Page 5 of Drifter’s Heart

Night Caps and Wilder Nights

My brother’s hot best friend is stalking me.

I can’t work out if that’s cute or annoying, but West walking away without so much as giving me a good night kiss is frustrating as all hell. Even if he did snark his denim-clad behind off. And no amount of flirting got him across the line to⁠—

Flirt back. Kiss me.

Take me home.

I must be losing my touch.

The thought that West might not want me after all eats at me. Could his being here be purely a coincidence? Jury’s out for sure. I dance up a storm and drink more than my limited budget allows after paying out for babysitting, even though I’ve paid for a full night’s worth of time for my daughter’s safety. Whatever. It’s not like I want anything to do with the Coyote boys anyway. I know better. My brother would have many things to say about that, should I take one of them home. Not that it’s his choice. The joys of having a control freak for a brother. Ha. My next shift starts in a full twelve hours, so I have plenty of time to sober up from my few drinks. Plus, Tom isn’t on tomorrow to see me haggard and crawling across the ER floor after I deliver patients to the hospital.

A hand taps my shoulder. “I might head out for the night.” Tom’s gaze is distant as I focus on him. “I’ve got another gig tomorrow night and I want to get some sleep between shifts.”

“Sure.” I nod, and the whole room heats. Water. Dammit, West’s influence is still with me even if he isn’t. I was salivating for that tall glass of water earlier. Plus the one in his hand. “I get that. Wait. Are you on shift tomorrow?”

He grimaces. “I promised Andy I’d swap. It’ll be fun to welcome the ass crack of dawn.”

“Eee.” I shake my head in sympathy. “I’ll be right there with you. Unless there’s an emergency call out. Let’s hope not.” I give him a hug that he returns, his touch light. I tip my head to the side, studying him. Tom’s usually bouncy curls hang past high cheekbones I envy, his pale face pasty. “Are you feeling okay?”

Tom lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. “Same night… different club, I guess.” He frowns, grabs a napkin and a pencil from the bar for tabs and scribbles.

“Mmm.” I make a noncommittal noise. “Well, sleep tight.” I wait.

“See you in the morning.” Tom collects his crumpled napkin and drifts away, accompanied by his drummer. The other musician throws me a what can you do look over his shoulder, though concern is mirrored in his gaze too.

“I’m out too,” announces Jenny, a nurse who works the ER on a regular basis as well as having a reputation for being a party girl, and she flings back her final shot. She heads toward the bathrooms, waving her phone over her head. “Called an Uber.”

I blink after them. Maybe Tom is coming down with something? He’s usually a whole lot more effervescent.

“See you in the morning,” I mutter to their backs, placing my untouched shot on the bar, my craving depleting. My phone buzzes in my purse slung across my body, but I ignore the notification. The battery was down last time I checked an hour ago, and it’ll be one of the nurses, telling me they’re home safe, anyway.

Maybe an Uber isn’t such a bad idea. I hang out until I’m at the front of the building, scanning the row of cabs and the even longer line of patrons jostling one another for the next available one.

“There’s more people on the outside than on the inside,” I say to the security guard, who eyes the line with at least as much concern as I do. He huffs a laugh as I turn away, heading down the block, already calculating my chances of getting a ride within the hour versus hiking home myself.

I mean, it’s not that far across town, right? I check my phone with its seventeen percent battery, ignoring the notifications. If I leave now, I’ll get in just before dawn. Maybe. Wait. What time does the sun rise at this time of year? Hell, it doesn’t matter. My shift isn’t for… Yep, I can make it.

My phone buzzes again in my hand. Twice more. Sighing, I check the screen. And wish I hadn’t.

There are nights when I miss you, you know that?

I read the first message, and freeze. Just seeing my ex-husband’s name is enough to bring the drinks and my dinner to the top of my throat. Acid burns there, but I force it back. I close my eyes, but his name is burned on the inside of my eyelids.

Please be a hallucination. Please.

You have a family, asshole. And it’s not us. Thank fuck.

When I open my eyes and his name is still on the screen, I wish I’d taken that last shot. Lie. No, I don’t. I need to be sober because no matter how much I want to delete the messages, I just can’t. Some stupid part of me hopes he’ll be nice. Just this once.

I wish I could go back to those days when it was just us. Do you remember those?

Don’t do this to me. You utter asshole. Not now. Not tonight.

It’s so wrong of my independent, single-mom ass to wish West were here right now to sass the fuck out of me. He’s damn good at that. Hell, the man once flirted his perfect, denim-covered backside off at three a.m. when I was in desperate need of a brooding cowboy pick-me-up. His timing can’t be better.

Yet right now he’s not here. But my asshole of an ex is taking up prime real estate on my screen.