Page 1 of Brands

Chapter 1

Blue

Val juts her chinin acknowledgement when I hold up a finger.

Just one more beer. If Clay doesn’t show, I gotta get out of here.

Or send a drink down the bar to the redhead who’s been making eyes at me for the last twenty minutes.

As if she can read my thoughts, Val appears in front of me with an ice cold bottle. “I highly don’t recommend it,” she says with the corner of her bright red mouth turned up in a smirk as her emerald eyes flick to the woman winking at me from the corner.

“Why not? It’s either that or work. She looks a little more appealing.” Propping my elbow on the smooth wood, I tuck my other thumb behind my belt buckle to fully appraise the temptress across the room.

“Yea, well, if you lean her way,she’dbe the one working.” Val’s throaty laugh lingers as she sweeps my empty away from me into a hidden bin beneath the counter.

Well, shit.

“Point taken.” I ain’t a fan of paying for favors.

Well, in Vegas for Dix’s wedding I may have lost a fair amount at the craps table to stay long enough for a very well endowed brunette to finally be coaxed to my room.

Money well spent.

I’m just lucky I didn’t come home with anything itching more than an empty wallet.

My drink is almost warm by the time the bell over the door lets out it’s tinny chime signally Clay’s arrival.

“Hey, Blue. Sorry I’m late.” Clay pushes his broad brimmed hat back on his head and slides into the stool next to me. “Had a damn first time freshener decide she didn’t want to be milked and ended up wallowing in the pond.”

“I guess that explains the musky smell.” I grin at him, making a point to raise my eyebrows and wrinkle my nose.

“Ha. Ha. I bet it makes you miss it?” He waves Val over. “Can I get a Coors? Shit. Sorry. Better make it water.” He grimaces and twists in his seat.

“Since when?” I’ve never known Clay to not be thirsty after all day in the dairy barn.

“My doc said to cut down on the alcohol.” He nods towards our maroon haired bartender when she slides the glass between his hands. “Thanks.”

He works his thumb up and down the condensation, but doesn’t raise it to his lips. “That’s why I asked you here today.” He stares at the ice cubes bobbing near the surface, then taps one down with the tip of his finger.

“For what? To tell me you quit drinking? Fuck, Clay. Whole lotta guys our age have peeled back. You start hitting the forties and the liver starts holding us hostage.” I run my palm over my own silver whiskers before taking another swig of my lukewarm beer.

I ain’t there yet. But the hangovers sure hurt a hell of a lot worse than they used to.

He crushes his hat over his eyes, then pulls it up just enough to meet mine. “I wish. My guts are all trained up to drink a barrel. Except I couldn’t piss it out.” He lets out a long exhale and his cheeks pale, making his blue eyes seem duller.

I almost start to laugh, but the serious expression makes me pause. “Clay? What’s up?” I’m not used to this somber side.

He and I usually cut up to the point we’re both laughing so hard we’re wipin’ tears.

With a hard swallow, he takes a deep breath. “I got cancer.”

I feel like I just got hit in the chest.

“Shit.” I guzzle down the last bit of my drink while I try and figure out what the hell to say.

He shakes his head, looking back at his hands. “Yea. Sucks donkey dick.” He glances around, dropping his tone to a whisper. “Fucking ball cancer. Testicular.”

“Damn. Can’t they just cut ‘em off? I can call you ‘Nutless Taylor’.” I try to add somelevity.

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