Page 77 of Switch

Brooke smirks. “We’ll see.”

We order a round of tequila, clinking our glasses together before knocking them back. The burn is sharp, but it spreads warmth through my chest, loosening the tension in my shoulders.

Brooke nudges me. “So, how does it feel to be Jax-free for the weekend?”

I force a smirk. “Lighter. Clearer. Completely unbothered by emotionally unavailable bikers.”

Brianna snorts. “Uh-huh. That’s why you keep checking your phone.”

I scowl. “I have not—”

Before I can finish, Brooke snatches my phone from my hand and waves it in the air.

“Then you won’t mind if I keep this for the night?” she teases.

I lunge, but she dances out of reach, laughing. “Brooke, I swear—”

“You can have it back after you have some actual fun.” She shoves it into her tiny purse, effectively ending the discussion.

Bri lifts her glass. “To a Jax-free night.”

Brooke grins. “To making Bella remember what fun feels like.”

I sigh but clink my glass against theirs anyway, knocking back another drink.

“All right, all right. I’ll try.”

They whoop like I just agreed to commit a felony.

We spend the next hour dancing to upbeat country songs, twirling and laughing as Brooke nearly trips in her heels. For the first time in days, I feel light, untangled from the mess inside my head.

Then, as I pause to catch my breath at the bar, a tall, broad-shouldered man approaches. His button-up is crisp, his jeans fitted, his boots well-worn. A cowboy hat rests on his head, shadowing warm brown eyes and a friendly, dimpled smile.

“Ladies,” he greets, tipping his hat. “Mind if I steal one of you for a dance?”

Brooke elbows me before I can respond. “She minds. But she needs to get over it.”

I glare at her. “I do not need to get over anything.”

Brianna lifts a brow. “Then dance with him.”

I scoff. “It’s just a dance.”

“Exactly,” Brooke says, smirking. “And your ass has been glued to this barstool long enough.”

The cowboy laughs, amused. “No pressure, sweetheart. Just figured I’d ask.”

I look up at him, taking in the easy charm, the politeness in his stance. If I were another woman, maybe I’d be excited by the offer.

But I’m not another woman.

I’m Jax’s woman.

Even if I’m pissed at him.

Still, my sisters’ pointed stares burn into me, and I know they won’t let this go.

I sigh. “Fine. One dance.”

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