“You keep starin’ like that, Walker, you’re liable to burn a hole clean through her.”
Nash cut Darlene a hard look.“Mind your business, Dar.”
Darlene slapped a rag across the counter, swiping up a spill.“My bar.That makes it my business.”
A couple hours had slipped by since he’d walked in.Shooter’s had thinned some, but the noise sure as hell hadn’t.Crusher was on the mic, murdering a Skynyrd song.Snake had some woman pinned against the wall by the bathrooms.Rook was carving another coaster to death.Shawna was dancing with her girlfriends, all of them singing loud and off-key.
And Cassie—goddamn Cassie—sat between Luanne and Becca, her back to the bar, shooting the shit and laughing like she hadn’t a care in the world.Like he didn’t fucking exist.Even when she got up for refills, she refused to look his way.
But him?He couldn’t stop looking.
Her being at Shooter’s, surrounded by the same crowd—it was almost like old times.Except now he couldn’t get within five feet of her without lighting her fuse.Hell, maybe that part hadn’t changed much either.
The only real difference was that she wouldn’t be climbing on the back of his bike when the night was over.Wouldn’t be wrapped around him, tearing his clothes off as they fumbled their way inside.Half the time, they never even made it to bed.
Nash drained the last of his beer, the bottle landing hard on the counter.He scanned the room for something, anything to latch onto—anyone but Cassie.Nothing.No one.Same decrepit walls, same faces, same busted jukebox that hadn’t lit up since…hell, since before she’d left.
He lifted a hand.A fresh bottle slid his way.Darlene came with it, leaning a hip on the bar, one brow ticked up.“You might could try talkin’ to her.”
“She took a bat to the booze,” Rook said down the counter.“Tried to take it to Nash, too.”
“Well, I’ll be.”Darlene’s grin spread slow.“She been gone all them years, livin’ that high life, and still comes back swingin’.”She gave the counter another wipe.“You can take the girl outta these hills, but you ain’t takin’ these hills outta the girl.”
“She looks different,” Rook said, eyes on his knife-work.“But she ain’t.Was ribbin’ Crush and me like old times.”
Just then Crusher hit a note that made the whole room groan.A guy playing darts yelled, “I’ll pay someone to take that mic away!”
Crusher bellowed back mid-song, “Hell, everybody knows you ain’t got no cash, TJ!”
“I got cash if it shuts you up!”
Grinning, Crusher turned toward the crowd, leaning into it, singing worse on purpose—until Luanne pushed her way onto the stage, shoving him aside and snatching the mic.
“That’ll be enough of that.”
“Baby,” Crusher drawled, reaching for it again, both of them gripping it tight.“I know you didn’t just take my mic.”
“Don’t you baby me,” Luanne shot back.“I ain’t your girl.”
“Oooh—” someone hollered from the back.
Crusher grinned, slow and cocky.“You could be—for tonight, that is.”
A chorus of “oh hells” and whistles broke out around Shooter’s.
Luanne scoffed, planting a hand on her hip.
“Oh, please.Just lookin’ at you, I know you ain’t worth the rug burn.”
As the crowd howled, Luanne stepped closer to Crusher, her gaze dragging slow down his body.
“All that noise you’re always makin’, rollin’ up around town…”
Her lip curled.
“…tells me you’re compensatin’ for somethin’ small.”
“You say that like you ain’t curious,” Crusher blustered on.
