Liam smiles as he tosses me the keys.
“I sure do. And it’s already pulled up in Google Maps,” he says proudly.
Confident, responsible Liam is a huge fucking turn-on.
We climb into the Range Rover, already needing four-wheel drive, and I navigate very slowly toward our destination, smiling in relief when we pull up outside a saloon-style bar.
“Are we line dancing?” I ask. “Because I have no idea how.”
Liam chuckles. “Baby, you don’t really know how to do any kind of dance, but no, it’s a regular bar, just in a cooler building.”
I’d argue that Icandance, except he’s right. I have zero rhythm, but I’ll wing it for a chance to watch Liam move his hips to a beat.
Upon entering the bar, I like the vibe immediately. A carefully cultivated blend of the Western culture out here,coupled with modern lines and lighting. There aren’t any strobe lights or stripper poles, just a well-stocked bar, a moderately sized dance floor, and off to the side, several pool tables currently in use. There are also stalls for darts, helping contribute to the Western vibe, even though the music being piped through the speakers is a catchy dance remix of a current pop hit.
Liam takes my hand and threads us through the crowd.
It’s not a gay bar, and a twinge of discomfort nags at me as I think about the slurs, stares, and reactions Taylor has gotten over the years.God, my brother has way bigger balls than I’ve ever given him credit for.He doesn’t even bat a fake eyelash when he grabs his boyfriend’s ass in public or offers him an affectionate kiss at the dinner table.
Maybe being more like Taylor isn’t such a bad thing after all.
“What do you want to drink, baby?” Liam asks.
I laugh. “I swear all we’ve done on this trip is drink and sleep.”
“Don’t forget the orgasms. We drink, sleep, and come. But it’s a vacation. That’s what we’re supposed to do,” he replies.
Huh, he’s not wrong.
“I’ll just have a beer,” I say as he places the order for two light beers. Liam gets hit on while we’re waiting because Liam gets hit oneverywhere.
“Thank you. I’m flattered, but I’m here with my boyfriend,” he responds to the girl respectfully, turning to look at me.
I’ve never felt prouder in my entire life.
That is, until the girl mutters, “What a fucking waste,” loud enough for Liam to hear, and his face falls.
I’m about to say something, because fuck this bitch, when Liam beats me to it. Cocking his head to the side, he says, “Let me get this right…you think spending my night with the man Ilove is a waste because I’m not straight? Or because I turnedyoudown specifically?”
A look of shock passes across the girl’s face. She’s clearly not used to being called out for the words that spew from her mouth.
At a loss for an answer, and deciding it’s not worth having her ass handed to her by Liam again, she pushes the friends that are with her further down the bar without another word.
I’m holding my breath, waiting for Li’s reaction, but before he says anything, I release my breath because he’s repeatedly proven that he can handle the truth, and the ugly truth is that there are still so many small-minded people in the world who refuse to embrace love in all its forms.
Next thing I know, Liam’s giant hand is cupping my face as he leans down, brushing his lips across mine.
“I should probably just do this all night so there’s no more confusion,” he says.
“Fine by me,” I breathe.
We’re locked in a public-appropriate display of affection when the bartender yells, “Drink up, lovebirds,” and slides our beers across the bar.
We take a few minutes to drink our beers before making our way to the floor. I have plans to either bring my beer with me or finish it, but that plan goes to hell whenPleaseDon’t Stop the Musicby Rihanna starts blaring through the speakers.
Liam takes my glass out of my hand, sets it on the bar, and promptly pulls me to the middle of the crowd of bodies on the floor. The man has an unhealthy obsession with the artist.
I do my best to stay in my lane and sway back and forth. The most I can hope for is to be close to the beat and not embarrass the shit out of Liam, but within thirty seconds, he’s drawing stares. Like, people have stopped dancing to watch his moves, which means they’re also getting an eyeful of my uncoordinated ass.
