Page 1 of Curvy Girl and the Bad Boy Cowboy

Chapter 1 - Ethan

The neon lights of The Rusty Nail cast a blue haze over the bar as I drain my fourth—or maybe fifth—beer of the night. Country music thrums through the speakers, barely audible over the laughter and chatter of the few patrons still hanging around this late.

"And then Vincent had the nerve to tell me I shouldn't be staying out past midnight on weeknights," I say, slamming my empty bottle down harder than intended. "Like I'm supposed to check in with him now."

Max chuckles, his firefighter's badge glinting under the dim lights as he leans against the bar. "That's what happens when you become a dad, I guess."

"He's not my dad," I grumble. "He's my brother who suddenly thinks he's responsible because he's raising a five-year-old."

"Lucy is pretty cute though."

"Not the point." I motion to Darla, the bartender, for another round. "It's like they're all part of some secret club now. Vincent with Charlotte and little Lucy. Aaron with his mail-order bride—"

"Elena," Max corrects. "And you know she hates when you call her that."

"Fine, Elena. Then there's Jackson with Sarah, which—don't get me wrong—I've been rooting for them to get together since high school. And Cole..." I shake my head. "Cole with Luisa and her kid, who literally just showed up on our doorstep a month ago."

Darla slides two more beers our way. "Last call, boys. We're closing in twenty."

"Thanks." I wink, and she rolls her eyes, immune to my charm after years of the same routine.

Max clinks his bottle against mine. "To being the last single Covington standing."

"It's not even that I mind them being happy," I continue, the beer making my thoughts spill out unfiltered. "It's just suddenly I'm getting lectures about 'ranch responsibility' and 'growing up sometime' and 'maybe not tracking mud through the house at 2 AM.'"

"Tragic," Max deadpans.

"You don't get it because you live alone."

"I get plenty of responsibility lectures from Chief Miller, thank you very much."

A group of girls we know wave from the dance floor, and Max raises his eyebrows "Speaking of staying irresponsible..."

Ten minutes later, we're twirling Missy Jenkins and her friends around the sticky dance floor. I'm not drunk enough to forget these are the same girls we've been dancing with since senior year and not sober enough to care that nothing ever changes in Cedar Falls.

By closing time, we stumble out into the cool Cedar Falls night, the stars stretching endlessly above us. The crisp air hits my lungs, a refreshing change from the beer-soaked atmosphere inside.

"Look at that sky," Max says, tilting his head back so far he nearly topples over. "God, I love nights like this. And tomorrow I'm sleeping till noon. No alarms, no emergencies, just me and my bed having a beautiful reunion."

I laugh, but there's an edge of envy to it. "Must be nice. Jackson will be banging on my door at 7 AM sharp. 8 if he's feeling generous."

"Tell him to shove it."

"Easy for you to say. You don't live with four brothers who think because they've all found 'the one,' I need to fall in line too."

We walk—more like zigzag—down Main Street, our shadows long under the streetlights. The town is dead quiet except for our boots scuffing against the pavement.

"You know what your problem is?" Max says, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"Please enlighten me."

"You're jealous."

I shrug him off. "I am not jealous of my brothers being tied down."

"Not of that," Max says. "You're jealous they've found something that makes them want to wake up at 7 AM. You're still sleeping till noon because you've got nothing better to do."

"That's..." I start to argue, but the words die in my throat. "That's ridiculous. I love my freedom."

---