Page 74 of That Moment
“Good to know.” He leans in as the song changes, not too close. “I’m Miles, by the way.”
“Adrienne.”
“Nice to meet you, Adrienne.” He reaches for my hand when the dance breaks apart and slips a small folded card into my palm, smooth as a magic trick. “If you ever want to be trouble on a Tuesday night sometime, I’d love to experience that.”
I laugh, a little delighted. “Bold.”
“Optimistic,” he says, backing away with a harmless salute.
I tuck the card into my clutch without looking at it. I’m not calling him. The point is I can. The point is, options feel good after weeks of orbiting one man’s gravity.
We close the place down without trying. At some point, we switch to water. Juniper herds us with the skill set of a woman who regularly wrangles cattle. We pile back into the SUV, cheeks flushed, hair wild, voices hoarse from singing.
“Successful night,” Amelia declares, kicking off her heels. “I only thought about work once.”
“I thought about sex three times,” Dolly sighs happily. “Ranger is about to get his brains fucked out when I get home.” She flops back against the seat, her heavy-lidded eyelids already telling me that she’s going to be fast asleep by the time we get her home.
“Proud of you,” Brooklyn says dryly. “You seemed to hit it off with that guy.”
“Why, because we danced?” She shrugs. “He did give me his number, though.” I reach into my clutch and show them his card.
Dolly’s eyes fly open, and she sits up. “Oh my god, are you going to call him?”
I shrug, “he lives all the way out here, I doubt it. But still, feels nice to know I still got it.”
I lean my head against the window, breathing in the crisp mountain air as we drive home. Lights smear into soft lines as my eyes grow heavy. The mountains sit dark and watchful behind everything, like they know too much.
My clutch buzzes in my hand. I pull the phone out to see the battery bar blinking red and one unread message from Scotty lingering. I don’t open anything. I don’t need to see what he said. I already know how my body will react if I do.
By the time they drop me at my place, the wine has settled into a hum beneath my skin. I hug everyone, promise brunch, promise to text when I wake up. The porch light I forgot to set to auto blinds me.
Inside, I toss my clutch on the dresser and toe off my heels with a groan. I don’t brush my hair. I don’t even brush my teeth. It’s all I can do to peel off my dress and face-plant into bed.
For twelve whole seconds before sleep hits, I don’t think about Scotty or what I told him or what he’ll say in the morning. I just think about how my feet hurt and how my throat is raw from laughing.
Then the lights go out in my brain, and I’m gone.
Chapter 12
Scotty
Eight fifty-seven.
I stare at the clock on the wall like I can intimidate it into rolling backward. It doesn’t. The second hand ticks, loud as a hammer on an empty bay.
Her coffee sits next to mine on the counter. I brought her the stupid seasonal one she likes. It’s cold now.
I call again, straight to voicemail. I end the call before the beep and toss the phone on the workbench. It skids, knocks a socket loose, and the metal rings across the concrete.
“She said she’d be here,” I mutter to no one but the empty shop and the Mustang staring at me.
My brain, unhelpful, queues up a highlight reel of last night’s worst-case scenarios: Adrienne laughing with some idiot who isn't afraid to go after her. A hand at her waist that isn’t mine. Her phone dead at the bottom of a purse she forgot she even brought because she’s too busy falling in love with some Joe fuckin Schmoe.
I yank the Mustang’s tarp back in frustration. I really don’t fucking like that she can get to me like this. But what pisses me off is that this isn’t the first time she’s done this to me, and itprobably won’t be the last. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall into her trap this time, then I went and let myself get tangled in her web.
I don’t want to think.
I reach for the radio and turn the speaker up. Metallica fills the bay, the screeching guitar a welcome distraction.
