“Hi, cuz. Are you having a good time?”
Blair tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Not really. Tori bailed on me at the last minute. Food poisoning, she says, and I only found out after I’d already ordered my drink.”
“Oh no, that’s awful.”
“Yeah. She’s really sick, poor thing.” Blair’s eyes drifted across the room to the three young cowboys by the jukebox, circling her with toothy grins.
“I hope she feels better soon. I’ve had foodpoisoning before. It’s brutal.”
“It really is. So, what are you and Killian up to?”
“Nothing much. Getting ready for movie night. Why don’t you come over?”
Blair’s hand tightened around her phone. “Thanks, but I’m kind of stuck here. There are three greenhorn cowboys who won’t leave me alone, and I’m too skittish to slip outside until they move on.”
Celine’s tone softened. “Do you want Killian to come rescue you?”
Blair laughed, though it came out a little shaky. “No thanks. You two enjoy your night. I’ll figure something out.”
“If they’re harassing you, we’ll both come in there.”
“I appreciate it, really, but let me ask Scarlett if Noah’s coming in tonight. I’m too freaked to walk out by myself.”
“If Noah comes in, you know he’ll walk you to your car.”
“I know.” Blair glanced toward the bartender polishing mugs behind the counter. “Go watch your movie. Killian is so hot. I need a cowboy of my own, but not these rookie amateurs.”
Celine laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone. Call me if you need backup.”
“I will. Love you. Night.” She disconnected and tucked the phone back into her pocket.
She exhaled slowly, bracing herself as the trio swaggered back over, spurs jingling on the wooden floor. Each wore a dusty cowboy hat and the kind of cocky smirk meant to disarm. It did nothing for her.
“Hey, beautiful,” one said.
“Look, I’m flattered,” Blair said, forcing a polite smile, “but you fellas need to give me some space.”
The lanky one with freckles and too-big bootsleaned in. “How do you know you don’t like one of us unless you try?”
“No.” Short and flat.
They laughed, a hollow sound. “She’s playing hard to get.”
“I’m not playing.” Blair narrowed her eyes and flagged down Scarlett, the owner and bartender of Dewey’s.
Scarlett wiped a clean rag over a frosted mug and slid it down the counter to a customer, then made her way over. “Hey, Blair. Something else I can get you?”
“Nothing, thanks. Is Noah coming in tonight?” Blair kept her voice steady despite the tremor behind it.
“Not tonight. He’s working on a saddle.” Scarlett’s brow creased. “What’s wrong?”
“These guys won’t leave me alone. I’m scared to step outside.”
“Damn it, Liam’s not here either.” Scarlett patted her hand. “Just hang tight. Maybe they’ll get bored. If Dom comes in later he can walk you out.” She moved back down the bar to take another order.
Blair turned away, the low chatter of the cowboys still drifting over her shoulder. She stared at the swirls in her whiskey, heart pounding.
Then someone eased onto the stool beside her.
