Page 22 of Spurred On

“I’ve decided maybe I do need to live a little.” Though preferably not as much as the last time I agreed to go out. But it’s not like I can get any ‘more’ married. So, it can’t get much worse.

“Great.” I realize she is holding a duffle bag and feel a fresh new wave of fear wash over me. She reminds me so much of Erin, who also terrifies me. Mostly because we are different; while I enjoy laying low and blending in, she likes to live out loud and actually be seen in everyroom she is in. “Now we just need to get you ready. If I am bringing you on the scene with me, we are going to do it with a bang.”

Lord, help me.

Forty-five minutes later, my long blonde hair is expertly curled into loose waves that cascade down my back. My blue eyes are rimmed with smudged liner and lashes so full that if I bat them fast enough, I might actually take flight.

Aspen doesn’t look too bad, either. Her chocolate brown hair is tied into a high pony with the ends perfectly curled. She rocks it with her denim skirt and pink cowboy boots. She and Erin would be fast friends, if not by their personalities, then by their shared style.

She has me dressed in a red sundress that hugs my upper body. Admittedly, I like the way I look. Feminine and a little edge of sexy with the way my breasts sit high. She brought me a pair of boots, hoping we would be the same size. I didn’t think to bring the boots I bought for Vegas, though, those are loosely considered cowboy boots since they were purchased from Target. Running my hands over where my red dress flares at my hips, I take one last deep breath.

“Alright, show me what a night in Windy Peaks looks like.”

The front of the bar looks exactly how I imagined a country bar would. Its exterior is made up of old weathered wood and faux saloon doors. And I must admit, I really like it. The small town here was nothing like I expected, but I’m starting to wonder if it was something I needed.

Aspen's steps come to a halt and she grabs my arm just before we walk in. “So, I need to warn you. You will be the shiny new toy here tonight. It’s pretty rare for a new pretty face to show up. And, well,” she gestures her hand from my head to my toes, “you’re hot. And they’re going to notice.” I almost blanch at being called hot. I’ve never thought of myself as ugly or unattractive per se, but kind of just there, I guess. Nothing special.

We take one step into the bar and I realize she was right. Whether my nerves are making me acutely aware of how it feels like every pair of eyes are on us, or if it’s actually happening, but it causes my steps to falter. I let out a quick breath, readying myself. This will be fun.

My eyes scan the crowd, taking note of everything. The two old guys huddled next to the bar, completely unaware of what’s going on around them. The two girls next to them, giving Aspen and me an apprehensive look. As if we are stepping on their turf, which we might be. The dance floor has a few couples spinning around to whatever song is playing on the speakers.

My eyes continue to search until they land on a pair of steely grey eyes. The nerves that were rising come to a quick halt. My eyes stay locked on him and the heat behind them. He doesn’t spare Aspen a glance. The way his eyes stay locked on me fills my confidence right back up. His presence here gives me a certain comfort I didn’t know I was searching for.

Aspen’s oblivious to it all, helping me take off the denim coat and hanging it up on the old coat rack to our left. “Alright, let’s go wreck the boys’ party.”

That's an idea I can get behind; being closer to Mav has never sounded quite so appealing. We weave our bodies through the crowd. There are more people here than I would have expected, but we soon make our way to the back, where the boys are playing pool.

“Hello, boys.” Aspen’s smile stretches across her face. “We’ll play next.”

My head whips around to look at Aspen. “Uh, I don’t need to play. I’ve never played pool a day in my life.”

She quickly dismisses my concern. “Well, being that you are a current resident of Windy Peaks, you’re going to have to learn. It’s basically a law.”

My eyes can’t help but roll because that is absurd. I look over to Maverick for confirmation. His shoulders shrug up as he responds, “She’s right.”

“Okay, well, just know I’m a really sore loser.” Having to scrape my way through adulthood has made me a bit competitive. It’s why I graduated at the top of my class. There wasn’t a lot I could control, but kicking ass was one of them. So, I did.

“You and Weston both,” Rhett says. Weston flips him off as he walks up to Aspen and gives her a hug.

“What brings you ladies out tonight?” Weston asks, his arm still loosely draped over his sister’s shoulder.

“I thought it would be a travesty for Ava to never get to experience Luke’s and, well, we were bored.” She acts as if she speaks for us both because I was perfectly content with my book. Though I have to admit this might end up being more fun than I had planned for myself.

“Well then, you better get to getting.” Weston gently pushes Aspen to the table. Feeling very out of my element, I look around.

“Do you want me to help you?” Maverick asks. My nose immediately scrunches up at the word help. Little does he know I’m a professional at figuring shit out on the fly.

“No, I'm pretty sure I can figure out how to hit a ball with a stick.” I look at him with a little extra sass.

He holds his palms up in surrender. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” The look on his face is cute, and I find myself having a hard time looking away. But I have a point to prove.

Strutting over to the table, I grab a pool stick that hangs on the wall.

“Ava, since we're popping your pool cherry, you can go ahead and do the honor of breaking. I’ll rack up and then you aim for the top of the triangle,” Weston instructs.

“Seems easy enough.” I shrug with mock confidence.

Fidgeting with the stick, I lean over the table. This can’t be that hard. But the stick is long and awkward to control. I try and close my eyes, picturing how I’ve seen other people play, but that was only on TV. I’ve never seen a game in real life. With more effort than it should require, I finally thread the stick between my index and middle finger and aim for the white ball, which makes a satisfying clanking sound when it makes contact. Unfortunately, that’s where my luck runs out. The white ball bounces around, hitting nothing.

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