“Hey, sugar. What can I get you?”
“Whiskey—Four Roses—neat,” he says without looking up.
The bridesmaids are intrigued, three of them glancing at each other before adjusting their skimpy pink dresses and making their way over to him. I busy myself wiping off the counter in front of me with a damp rag. My hair is in two French braids tonight, and I’m wearing my typical low-cut tank with Daisy Dukes and cowboy boots.
I haven’t spoken to Duke since he fingered me in his bed and I had a full-blown panic attack. I guess sex is triggering for me, which was asuperfun thing to find out mid-hookup.
This is the first time I’ve seen Duke outside of the ranch since his father’s funeral.
A man approaches my bar, leaning up against it. He has some gray sprinkled in his beard, and his brown eyes stay at a respectable level, focused on my face.
“Hey, can I get a beer? Miller, on tap.” He smiles kindly.
I nod, grabbing a clean mug.
“Just keep the tab open.” He slides his black Amex across the bar with his ring-free left hand.
“How’s your night going?”
Being chatty, especially with a slightly older man who’s out drinking alone and paying with a card like that, is how I make most of my tips.
“Can’t complain. This place is busy.”
“Yeah, it’s poppin’ most Fridays.” I slide the mug over with a smile.
In my peripheral vision, I see the three pink flamingos swarming Duke. I wonder if he can even tell them apart.
This was the reminder I needed that the night I spent in his bed was a waste of my time and emotional energy. He’s still the playboy he’s always been, and I’m still very much only interested in someone older, more mature, and stable.
Like the gentleman I’m serving right now.
Still, my stomach twists at the sound of feminine giggles to my right.
“So, you work most Fridays then?” he asks.
I nod, busying myself with filling drink orders from the machine printing them out. The waitresses wandering around send them over, and at the end of the night, they have to split tips with us.
“Yeah, I work every Friday. Are you new in town?”
“I’m here on business. Actually, I’m staying about two hours west of here on an oil rig. I just needed a change of scenery.”
An oil man. My interest is piqued. I don’t have any desire to get married again, but if I did, I would definitely only be to a man who has a successful, established career. Marrying for love was a onetime mistake I won’t be repeating.
“Wow, that’s quite a drive for a beer.”
“It was worth it,” he says with a wink.
I laugh, probably a little too loudly. The black cowboy hat to the right of us turns in our direction. The smile stays on my lips as the man leans into me.
“What’s your name?”
“Dallas.”
He whistles. “You seem like trouble, Dallas.”
“And yours?”
“Scott.”
