Page 75

‘I think we’re on hour five,’ Andrea commented.

‘You guys are fine,’ Stevie insisted. ‘You just need to add a glass of water for every cocktail.’

‘I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,’ Skye commented. ‘And I am not fine.’ Somewhere between leaving the cold air outside and entering the overheated bar, she’d started to feel the weight of her decisions. ‘I haven’t had this much to drink ever. My stomach feels pickled.’

The bartender placed the shots on the bar in front of them.

‘Put them on my tab, Tommy,’ Beau instructed. ‘We’ll close out.’

Skye couldn’t speak over the lump of bile fighting its way up her throat. She gingerly pushed the tequila shot towards Beau. ‘Please. I insist.’

‘I’m driving you all home,’ he argued. He passed both shots down to the couple sitting next to him with a simple, ‘On us.’

‘Boo.’ Stevie threw back her shot, and when Andrea made no move to down hers, Stevie shot hers too. ‘What happened to going dancing?’ She slammed the shot glass on the bar.

Saliva pooled in Skye’s mouth. She stood up, accidentally tipping over the barstool in her rush. It clattered to the floor. Everyone turned to look at her. But Skye didn’t care. Unsure of where the restroom was but one hundred per cent certain she was going to throw up, she started running for the exit.

She flung open the door, took a greedy gulp of air.

Her vision swam.

A self-pitying sob pushed up her throat. ‘Oh, God. Please no.’

It was going to happen.

She was going to be sick on a public sidewalk.

She braced for it just as a familiar voice, one that she’d tried to cut out of her memory, cut through her panic. ‘Skye?’

Skye looked up into TJ’s green eyes, eyes that were wide with shock. She sobbed, ‘Fucking perfect.’ And, leaning over, threw up on his boots.

TJ’s heart was racing like a Thoroughbred’s on the track. For a second there, he’d almost managed to convince himself that she was a figment of his imagination. How many times had he imagined running into her? How many times had he wished for it? Feared it?

Before he could recover from the shock of seeing those fucking blue eyes again, so panicked, she stumbled down the sidewalk, using one arm to try and hold herself up on the nearby wall as the next wave of sick came.

Without a thought to his boots, he followed her. ‘Hey,’ he said quietly, ‘relax. Stop running.’

‘Please leave me alone,’ she begged. But she stopped moving, plopped onto her butt right there on the dirty sidewalk and, burying her head in her hands, burst into tears.

TJ reached for her, but right as his fingertips grazed her hand, right as his heart jackhammered at that first contact after so long, Skye jerked out of his grasp. She leaned away.

Someone shouted, ‘Skye!’ from the bar’s entrance.

TJ managed to make out two girls before they descended on him like a pack of wolves. The black-haired one’s eyes widened when she saw him. But she didn’t say anything, just swayed tipsily.

The other silently inserted her body between Skye and him, forcing TJ to stand and move away.

‘TJ?’

TJ glanced up to see Beau Baker. ‘Hey, man. Sorry I’m late. One of the bulls got out.’

‘No worries. I was just about to text you.’ Beau looked down at Skye, and TJ could have sworn the other man’s eyes softened. ‘Raincheck?’ Beau asked. ‘I gotta get these girls home.’

‘She’s staying with you?’ TJ asked, and although he was surprised, he shouldn’t have been. He’d always known Skye would never willingly look up his family again.

‘Yeah.’ Beau looked back and forth between TJ and Skye. ‘Ah, Skye’s a friend of my mom’s. Barrel racer.’

‘We’ll Uber,’ the brunette said, changing the topic. But she clearly knew who TJ was. She glared at him, as if he were a threat. As if he were dangerous – to Skye.