With a step back, I jingle his keys between us. “Nowwe’re even.”
His eyes flash in warning. “Don’t?—”
I wind up and throw them as far as I can behind him. Then I take off towards the farmhouse. By the time I’ve mounted my bike, keys in the ignition, Decker is hitting the long driveway. Pants up but missing his shirt and jacket.
“When I catch up to you,” he yells, “that pretty ass is mine.”
“Sure we can’t justmove past all this?” I call out.
“Not a chance in hell.”
I grin as I fire up the engine. Then I slam down my visor and tear back onto the road.
Like I said. I know how to leave a man in the dust.
15
“We need more shots!”Kat yells as she motions for me to follow. She keeps talking, but I can’t hear a word over the music wailing across the small dive bar Bex and the Danforth sisters have dragged me to tonight.
It’s Friday night, and one of the more renown local bands is playing, so the place is packed. We have to squeeze ourselves through the tight gaps between clusters of patrons with drinks in hand, bouncing to the assortment of ’90s alt-rock blasting from the back of the bar.
“What?” I yell.
Bex chimes in, and both she and Kat dip their heads back and scream, “Tequila!”
More tequila.
My stomach does a dip and my head spins, but I tread after them. I’m a pretty good drinker, but these two have me beat. I hit my limit about an hour ago. Around the time Triss bailed, wishing me luck as she pulled on Jack’s helmet and jumped on the back of his Harley. Jack barely looked at me. And only saidstay out of trouble, Graciebefore peeling onto the street and gunning it towards their end of town.
Stay out of trouble.
Please. Who the hell is he to tell me to stay out of trouble? I’ve been home almost two weeks, and the man has barely spoken to me. He’s lost his right to play big brother.
Kat hands me a shot of clear liquid and raises hers. “To the Sinner Sisters!”
Bex adds, “Knock ’em dead!”
They look at me, eyes wide, waiting for me to add the last line of their mantra.
Chest tight, I laugh. “And put ’em on their knees!”
We smash our glasses together, and I down the shot, eyes shut as I will the alcohol burning a trail down my esophagus to make it to my stomach and stay there.
Another wave of dizziness hits me, and I let out a deep breath. Yeah, I’m definitely at my limit.
The bar explodes with an eardrum-shattering roar as the band kicks off the first few notes of “Bitch” by Meredith Brooks. With a squeal, Kat grabs me by the hand and yanks me towards the small stage, where the lead singer, an Alanis Morissette look-alike, is already belting out the chorus. Kat and Bex shout out the anthem, and I scream it with them, losing myself in the song, the bounce of the crowd, the two women bumping shoulders with me.
Tonight has been bittersweet. Lots of food, drinking, dancing, and laughing. On the flip side, it’s shown me everything I lost when I left this place. Weirdness between Jack and me aside, I want to keep this. I want to be a part of the life the Sinners have built here. This family.
The band hits its final note—a long, deafening wail of a guitar—and the crowd erupts. With a dramatic twirl, Bex proclaims she’s going to get more shots.
God. Please no. I need some air.
I point to the back door, and Kat shakes her head, mouthing that horrible word again.Tequila.
These girls are fucking hardcore.
I again motion to the door, yelling that I’ll be back. Then I quickly turn away from the women who are trying to drink me into an early grave. If that smell hits my nose again, I’m certain all the liquor I just forced down my throat will come right back up.
