Page 67
40
Carrie
Of course Kid was there. This was his home bar. Carrie knew he’d be at the table. She was prepared for this. She could handle this—as long as she didn’t make eye contact with him.
Shifting her attention to her best friend, she grinned widely as she witnessed how her man showered Kelsey with affection and attention. Every time they got together, Carrie was reminded of long-lost lovers meeting up after an extended absence. There was no difference between Kevlar returning to Kelsey after several months on an oil rig and him showing up at the salon to pick her up after her shift. They were adorably smitten with each other.
Which should be nauseating. Most would consider it over-the-top. In the past, Carrie would’ve been green with envy. She wanted that kind of love in her life and had doubted it being authentic. If she didn’t know her friend as well as she did, she might second-guess their public displays.
What Kevlar and Kelsey shared was real.
One day Carrie would have something like it.
Mike had robbed her of a lot of things, but she remained a hopeless romantic at heart. Well, maybe not as hopeless as she had once been, but she was still a romantic.
“We don’t want to interrupt guys’ night,” Kelsey said as she slid from Kevlar’s grip. “We’re just gonna shake our asses and have a few drinks.”
“Not too hard,” Kevlar warned playfully, offering the pair a wink.
As everyone shared a good-natured giggle, “A Bar Song” by Shaboozey began.
This was her out.
Carrie reached for Kelsey. “Let’s go! I know this one.”
Before her friend could protest, Carrie dragged Kelsey toward the dance floor and away from the collection of bikers. Kid’s gaze had bored a hole into her back, but she refused to look at him. Fuck him. She was there to have fun, and she wouldn’t be able to do that around his moody ass.
Once they moseyed onto the dance floor, the two women jumped right in and vined their way into a quarter turn and heel tap. Filling her lungs with a deep breath of freedom, she let herself get lost in the repetitive movements of line dancing.
As the song switched to “Texas Hold ’Em” by Beyonce, Kelsey went the wrong direction and bumped into Carrie as she threw her arm up to do the lasso motion.
“Incoming,” Kelsey said, jutting her chin to the right.
Carrie glanced and noted a man in skinny jeans with a large belt buckle and a flannel shirt staring at her and wearing a large grin. She returned his smile and tipped her hat toward him.
Kelsey slapped her arm. “What are you doing?”
“Flirting. Is that a problem?” Carrie whisper-hissed, tearing her gaze away from the man headed her way.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“It’s fine,” Carrie assured.
“Hey,” the man said, glancing between the two women. “How are you doing?”
“Pretty good,” Carrie answered.
Kelsey hooked her arm around Carrie’s. “We’re flattered, but—”
“Would you like to dance?” Carrie interrupted her friend as she wiggled out of her hold.
Carrie had gone out to blow the rust off her flirting skills. Kelsey was spoken for. Carrie wasn’t.
The man’s attention flicked between them again with a hint of confusion in his expression. “Sure.”
“Carrie,” Kelsey warned. “Can we talk for a second?”
“I’m going to get a beer,” Carrie’s potential dance partner commented as he pointed at the bar. “If you meet me there, I’ll buy you one.”
