Page 13 of Crashing the Altar
Giggles worked their way up my throat before bursting free. Collapsing against his solid form, I sucked in gasping breaths between fits of laughter.
“That’s right. Big, strong Tripp Sullivan is afraid of an oversized bird.”
“Not scared,” he groused. “Just think the nasty buggers are better off headless and roasted on the Thanksgiving dinner table.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face over his irrational fear of turkeys. “I’ll grant you mercy this time. No live turkeys on the ranch.”
His body went rigid beside me. “Should we be expecting any other kind of large fowl to be making an appearance later this year? Perhaps one carrying a bundle in its beak?”
Brows drawing down, I cocked my head. “What?”
Tripp shook his head. “Never mind. Not really my business, anyway.”
Normally, I’d pester him until he spilled whatever was weighing on him, but I could sense the shift in our dynamic. He was pulling away, putting up walls, and I hated it.
“Wanna go for a ride tomorrow morning?”
“Can’t. Already took enough flak from Dad about leaving the team, so I’ve gotta head back to Guymon first thing.”
“Oh.” It was impossible to keep the dejected tone from my voice. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
“Don’t really know.” He lifted his hat to run fingers through his dark hair. “June or July, whenever Aspen has the baby.”
My heart sank. By June or July, I’d be married, legally tied to another man. And my best friend just told me in a roundabout way that he wasn’t coming to my wedding.
Blinking back the tears that threatened to break free, I nodded. “Makes sense.”
“I’ve got an early day tomorrow, so I think I’m gonna call it a night. I can drive you back on my way.”
Pulling away from his warmth, I tried to hide the shiver that rolled through me by hopping off the back of the truck. Averting my gaze—knowing I’d start sobbing if I so much as looked at him—I jerked my head in the direction of the house I grew up in. “That’s okay. I can walk.”
I turned on my heel and began to march away, not turning back even when he called out behind me nor when his truck rolled behind me at a safe distance, the headlights illuminating the path in the darkness as he followed me home.
With a weak wave over my shoulder, I slipped inside and barely managed to latch my bedroom door before I collapsed against it and finally let myself cry over the dream I’d given up when I allowed another man to slip his ring on my finger.
Chapter 3
Tripp
Ilied.Ididn’tturn in like I told Penny I would. Instead, I was cozied up to the bar inside the Watering Hole, nursing my third—or was it fourth?—whiskey. I’d lost count at some point, but however many it was, I hadn’t hit the magic number required to wipe this day from my memory. I was determined to keep going until my mind went blank and my chest stopped aching.
Was this how I was destined to spend the rest of my days? Numbing the pain at the local bar because the woman I loved—my best friend—was building a life with someone else?
Nausea churned in my stomach at the mere thought of him touching her perfect body, of him having carnal knowledge of how she looked, sounded, and tasted when she came. Grimacing, I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat, chasing the foul taste away with what remained of my whiskey before signaling for another.
Jesse folded both arms over her chest as she shot me with a look of disapproval. “I don’t know what’s got you drowning in a bottle tonight, Tripp, but I’m not about to let you drink yourself to death over it.”
They’d all know soon enough. As soon as news broke of Penny’s engagement, I wouldn’t be able to escape the hushed whispers around town about how I was the fool who’d let her get away when she’d been right there for the taking all along.
That’s why I had to get the hell outta dodge the minute the sun came up. I couldn’t stay here and watch her marry another man while simultaneously being forced to endure everyone’s opinion on the matter.
Pushing the empty tumbler across the lacquered wood counter, I changed my drink order. “Fine. A water, then.”
Jesse placed the dirty glass into a bin for washing, then held her hand out, curling her fingers in agimmemotion. When I raised an eyebrow at the gesture, she demanded, “Keys.”
I groaned. “Oh, come on.”
She gave a firm shake of her head. “I’ve already let you have one more than I should have, so you can bet your ass I’m not about to let you drive home. Hand ’em over.”
