Page 24 of The Cowboy Complication

“I’m just tired.” Isla took another sip of her cola, deflecting Gertrude’s original insinuation with a bit of truth, and hoping the caffeine would give her the jolt she needed to make it through the night.

Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined a group of grandmas would like to party as much as the Bridge Bitches did. Based on what she’d seen over the past few hours, the girls could drink just about anyone under the table, and might easily close down the bar. They were living the kind of life she probably should have been enjoying for the past three years. A life that didn’t involve working her ass off thinking it would all pay off and that one day soon she’d be living the white picket fence life she dreamed of.

But maybe on some level she’d been on the right track, because going out wasn’t nearly as appealing as she thought it would be.

It was loud. It was stuffy. The floor was sticky and she was starting to get claustrophobic. Girls’ night was turning out to be nowhere near as fun as spending the night on the couch in her comfy pants watching Netflix was.

“Don’t you be upset over a mediocre man, honey.” Betty reached across the table to grab her hand. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you lucked out. Dodged a bullet that would have ruined your life.”

She’d heard similar sentiments from just about everyone who knew what happened between her and Eric. Her parents. Her cousins. Grady and Evelyn. They all told her she was better off. And she believed it. Knew what they were saying was true.

But tonight she didn’t really care. Eric wasn’t her primary focus anymore.

That position had been claimed by someone much more worthy of it. Someone better looking. Someone funnier. Someone more interesting. Someone all around superior to the man she wasted almost a decade on.

“I know.” Isla gave Betty a smile, but her eyes drifted around the bar, looking past the annoyingly congested cowboys in search of a dark-haired man wearing a uniform.

Cooper had said he might stop by. He was working, but she’d hoped there might be a little wiggle room in his shift where he could sneak in and make an appearance. Just a quick hello to help take the edge off her boredom and the overstimulation starting to make her skin itch.

But the minutes were ticking past and it was looking less and less likely that would be happening. Pulling out her cell phone, she checked to make sure she hadn’t missed a text from him, but not a single alert populated her screen.

Disappointment tugged at her gut, feeding off the insecurities creeping back in as all the cowboys in the place continued looking everywhere but at her.

Was she really that bad? Really that unappealing? Even after the effort she’d put in to look cute?

Instead of leggings, she’d pulled on her favorite pair of fitted jeans. A slouchy shirt that draped off one shoulder in a way she thought might be sexy replaced the hoodie she practically lived in. She’d even flat-ironed her hair and brushed on a coat of mascara.

Still, not one single man gave her the time of day.

And the worst part of it? Her desire to be noticed was purely superficial. She didn’t have any interest in the men packed into The Creekery like sardines. Even looking them over now, none of them stood out the way Cooper did. None of them caught her attention or made her want to know more about them.

Sighing, she reached for her glass and picked it up, wrapping her lips around the straw. Sucking hard to pull in as much sugar as possible, her mouth filled with nothing but slightly cool air. She looked down to find only ice staring back at her instead of the carbonated cola she was hoping for.

The empty glass was disappointing, but it also explained her full bladder. First she’d deal with one, then the other.

Pushing back her chair, Isla stood. “I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick.”

The girls were hunched close together, discussing something in low voices. Probably some secret potluck recipes no one else was supposed to know the ingredients to, so she left them to it and began working her way through the crowd.

Unsurprisingly, not a single man stopped her as she aimed for the ladies’ room. If anything, they seemed to avert their eyes and step out of her path. Parting like she was some sort of pariah, adding another ding to her bruised ego.

Ducking into the bathroom, she did her business and washed her hands. Taking one last look in the mirror to smooth down her dark hair, she pushed on a smile, knowing it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. As much as she hated to admit it, Eric was obviously right in his assessment of her. His claims were being proven true in real time, and fuck if it didn’t sting.

Stepping out into the main portion of the bar, she was greeted by an unexpected sight. A handful of cowboys were actually looking directly at her.

Maybe she wasn’t as invisible as she thought.

One of them pointed in her direction. “There she is.”

He sounded almost accusatory. Like she’d done something wrong. She was already feeling out of her element, so his strange tone and the sudden focus on her had unease brewing in her belly.

“Umm. What’s going on?”

Instead of answering her question, the pointing cowboy stepped away as she moved closer, looking a little frantic as he repeated himself, continuing to jab that accusing finger. “She’s right here.”

Isla turned to peer behind her, hoping she was maybe—once again—completely wrong about a man’s focus, but there was no one behind her. Just the empty bathroom hall.

What the heck was going on?

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