Page 33 of Make Me Yours
The back room at Ropers smelled like cigar smoke and spilled beer, the type that clung to your clothes no matter how quickly you got home to shower. Bruce pushed open the swinging door, and sure enough, Easton and Joe were already at the table, a deck of cards fanned between them and a mountain of poker chips piled in the middle like bait.
“Took you long enough,” Easton said, shoving a stack of chips my way. “We were about to start without you.”
“Never dreamed of ghosting you,” I said, dropping into the chair across from him.
Joe leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, the brim of his cap shadowing his eyes. “Bruce buy you that steak yet, or did he weasel out?”
Bruce chuckled, pulling his chair closer. “I bought him the best damn ribeye in the county. Paid him back for a favor.”
We anted up, cards sliding across the table, chips clacking as hands were sorted. The banter was easy— it came with years of shared ground and not much else to do on a Monday night.
Easton glanced up from his cards. “My Harley finally got confirmed. Dealer says a month, maybe two.”
Bruce snorted. “Hope you get it before the Sturgis rally.”
That earned a round of laughter, but Easton just smirked and tossed in a bet. “I hope so, too. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
Then, just like that, he shifted gears. “Speaking of waiting—you know Lilly’s having financial trouble, right?”
My head jerked up. “What makes you think I’d know that?”
The question earned a chorus of snickers.
Joe leaned forward, tapping his cards on the table. “This is Lovelace, son. Everybody knows everything. Secrets don’t last around here.”
My jaw tightened. I hated that Lilly’s life was spread across barroom chatter, hated more that I didn’t know how much of it was true.
Bruce threw in another chip, clearly uninterested in the turn the conversation had taken. But Joe wasn’t done. He shot me a grin. “So how’s it going with the elusive florist?”
I shrugged, playing it neutral. “Fine.”
Easton chuckled, giving Joe a sideways look. “Don’t rile him up. He’s working hard at keeping that temper in check.”
“PTSD,” Joe said, nodding like it was a fact written on my forehead.
I forced a low and easy laugh, but the words sat heavy inside. They weren’t wrong. Some nights, the noise in my head roared louder than anything around me. But what weighed me down more than the past was the present—the picture of Lilly bent over her flowers, sunlight in her hair, and the gnawing question of whether she wanted me enough to push through the mess I carried with me.
I tossed in a chip, raised the pot, and did my best to look like a man focused on the game, not one coming apart at the seams over a woman he couldn’t get out of his head.
The poker game broke up with the usual grumbling—Bruce crowing over his winnings, Joe swearing he’d been dealt garbage all night, Easton promising he’d clean us out next time. I pushedmy chair back and followed them out, the noise of the bar swelling around us again.
June was wiping down the counter, her ponytail swinging as she leaned over to catch a spot of spilled beer. When she saw me, her mouth curved into a sly smile. She set the rag aside and braced her elbows on the bar, leaning in close enough that the light caught the green flecks in her eyes. “You look like a lonely cowboy,” she drawled, voice smooth as the whiskey bottles lined up behind her. “You know I can make you smile… at least for a while.”
For a half second, I let the offer hang there. We had traveled this road a time or two before. She was pretty, no doubt about it—a lot of fun—and the easy road stretched clear right in front of me. One nod, one grin, and I wouldn’t be heading home alone.
But that wasn’t what I wanted.
I shook my head, giving her a polite smile that I hoped didn’t sting. “Appreciate it, June. But not tonight.”
Her eyes narrowed just a fraction, then she shrugged like it was no skin off her back and moved to the other end of the bar.
I slid a bill across the counter for a beer I hadn’t even ordered, more to fill the silence than anything. My thoughts weren’t on June, or the bar, or the game I’d just lost a few chips on. They were back on a woman who smelled like expensive perfume and laughed like the world might be worth living in after all.
Lilly.
She was the one I wanted. The only one.
The night hit me with a chill the second I stepped outside Ropers. The door thudded shut behind me, muffling the laughter and clatter inside. The sky stretched wide and sharp overhead, stars scattered so clear they looked close enough to grab.
