Page 35 of Awaiting the Storm
I nod. “Why? You tired of me already?”
She shrugs. “No. I just thought maybe you’d left.”
“I considered it.”
She arches a brow. “What changed your mind?”
“You walked away from him.”
Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t reply. She doesn’t need to. That answer sits between us like a lit match.
A waitress swings by, and I order a round for the table—more bourbon, a beer for Cabe, and before I can ask Matty what she wants, she speaks up.
“Tequila,” she says, handing over her empty glass. “One shot.”
Then she stands, removes the hat from her head, sets it on the table, and announces she’s going to get napkins.
As she watches her go, Shelby whistles, dragging it out low and dramatic. “Oh boy.”
Charli leans across the table, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Now, things are gonna get interesting.”
Cabe groans. “Fuck. This night’s about to go sideways, isn’t it?”
Charli bumps her glass against my empty one. “Better buckle up, cowboy. When tequila shots start flowing, there’s no telling where the night’s going to lead.”
Cabe shakes his head, clearly concerned about where this evening is going to end up.
Charli tosses the lime from her drink at him. “Don’t be such a worrywart.”
Shelby and Elise snicker.
“That’s rich, coming from the woman who has chores at dawn,” he grumbles.
“Wehave chores at dawn. Which isn’t too long from now, so we might as well enjoy ourselves till then,” she says as Matty returns with a stack of cocktail napkins in hand.
“Ugh. I was a different man when I let you two talk me into this,” Cabe cries, and they laugh as the waitress returns with our order.
Matty ignores them, and I watch the way her eyes sparkle as she grabs the shot and downs it. The way the color’s high in her cheeks now, the way her lips press together to hold back a smile. She’s not trying so hard to hold everything together for once. And the sight’s damn near magnetic.
“Another, please,” she says as she licks a drop of tequila from the corner of her mouth.
“Make it six, with a saltshaker and lime wedges, please,” Charli calls.
The waitress hurries to the bar and returns with six more shots. Matty reaches for one before anyone else. She sprinkles salt on her wrist, throws the shot back, licks the salt off her skin, and chases it with a bite of lime sucked between her lips.
I can’t stop staring.
She wipes her fingers with one of the napkins, then glances sideways at me. “What?”
I shake my head, lips lifting into a grin. “Nothing.”
“Not used to women who can drink you under the table?”
“I think I’m not used to women like you at all.”
Her expression flickers—something unreadable—but then the band kicks into a crowd favorite, and Shelby and Charli jump up again to head back to the dance floor.
Elise grabs Cabe’s hand as he takes his shot and slams the glass on the table, pulling him up.
