Pulling back, our foreheads touch. “Where the mountains of Salt Hollow,” I whisper under muffled breath, and Easton finishes for me, “Meet the ocean of Timber Heights.”
And he’s gone. Back to Alaska, where just two weeks ago his world fell apart.
And me? Well, I don’t know where I go from here. But I’m excited to find out.
30
COLLIE
One Month Later
“Pickleback?”
“Nope. Straight tequila tonight.”
A deep chuckle behind me causes me to turn. “Oh, goodie. You’re back,” I tell the guy who clearly can’t take a hint.
“Thought maybe you wanted to dance after that drink?”
Shot. It’s a shot.
I give him a glance over. He’s tall. Shaggy blond hair with bright blue eyes. Muscular. Not bad looking, actually. And I’m not interested in the slightest. “I’ll pass,” I tell him before turning back to my favorite bartender and friend, Freddie.
“Another.” I hold up the empty glass.
“Well, I’ll be over there if you change your mind,” the blond guy whispers into my ear, his hot breath making me cringe. “And I promise to make it worth your while.”
“Gag me,” I groan loud enough for only Freddie to hear as the guy walks away.
“Berkley,” Freddie shouts. “Come get your friend. She’s drunk.”
“I’m not fucking drunk,” I tell him, venom in my tone. “I’m just not interested in the guy. Is that so hard to believe?” Freddie fills my glass, all while looking at me like I’m crazy.
I can’t find it in me to care tonight.
One of my closest friends in Timber Heights, Berkley, abandons the guy she’s flirting with tonight and joins me at my side. “Hi, babe. You good?” She throws her arm around me, and I slump further into my seat.
“I’m fine, Berks. Just not interested. Freddie thinks I’m drunk. Which, I’m not. I’ve had three shots and could steer a horse with my eyes closed.”
A horse.My throat grows tight at the memory.
It’s been a month since I got back from Wyoming, and I’ve been a shell of myself. Going out to The Funky Rooster is nothing new for me. It’s what Berkley and I do most weekends to get out and meet guys. Although there aren’t many winners left in this small town, it’s typically worth a shot.
This is the first time I could barely find the energy to go. I agreed, telling myself I needed to try. To try and meet someone again, entertain the idea of screwing Easton’s impression out of my system or something. Never steered me wrong before.
But for a reason I can’t quite understand, I can’t so much as look at another man without feeling mind-numbingly ill. Sick to my stomach.
“You never drink tequila, baby girl,” Freddie chimes in.
“And? Your point is?” I slam the glass on the bar top, signaling with my eyes for him to grant me another.
“Picklebacks are your thing. If you aren’t drinkingwhiskey and ginger ale, you’re drinking picklebacks. I’ve served you at this bar for years, Collie. You’re either drunk or something is fucking you up in that pretty head of yours.”
“Cols,” Berkley stammers. “I hate to admit it, but Freddie is right. And did I just see you turn down Justin Bates? Have you seen that man?”
Oh. Was that Justin?“Didn’t even realize that was him.”
“See. Drunk.” Freddie points at me, and I want to sucker punch his red beard right off his face. “Anyone in their right mind would notice the hotness that is Justin Bates.”
