Page 43 of The Fine Line
Move on.
Don’t let them see they got to you.
I start to set the drink down. Then I change my mind. I raise it to my lips and throw it back in one sharp gulp, slamming the empty glass onto the bar.
I turn to leave—back exit, now—but only make it a few steps before a voice stops me cold.
“Hey—hey, wait!”
I freeze.
Of course.
I fully intend to keep walking. But—against my better judgment—I turn. Slowly.
And there he is.
Rhett. Drink in hand, slouched in the center of a leather couch, surrounded by at least five women draped around him from every angle. He moves to stand, struggling to untangle his arm from behind one of them, nearly spilling his drink in the process. They cling to him, buzzing around like bees to a hive full of honey.
And I just… stare.
Because sometimes, the most unbelievable thing…
Is how believable it really is.
eleven
CAROLINE
I don’t waste a second before turning away and taking off for the door.
“Cub, wait,” Rhett calls after me.
Even though he couldn’t stop me if he tried, my steps slow when a waitress steps into my path, balancing a tray of orange shots.
“Excuse me,” I say to her. “Are those on the Davis tab?”
She nods with a smile. “I’m bringing them over to the group right now.”
“Great.” I pluck one off the tray just as Rhett catches up.
“Cub?”
“And one for him,” I add, tipping my chin toward him and grabbing a second. “Thanks.”
As soon as she moves past us, I down both shots, dropping the empty glasses on a nearby table as I keep walking.
“Cub, would you just wait?—”
I spin around. “What do you want, Rhett?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’ve been worried.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Oh yeah. You looked real torn up back there.”
“What?” His brow furrows.
“You looked really concerned, sandwiched between your fan club. Any of them interested in your shoe store pitch?”
