AllFreeNovel
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There were women out there, thousands of them, who would kill for a date with the country music star, but I don’t see him like that. He’s just Cash.
“I don’t buy it,” Marci says.
“Buy what?”
“That he chose her over you,” she replies. “I don’t think you’re second best. I don’t know. I think if he knew what your feelings were back then, that he would have gone for it with you.”
I sigh. “Let’s be real about this.”
“I am being real. He likes you and you like him. All the other stuff is bullshit.” Marci has an affliction: getting things off her chest.
“I don’t want to live in Heatstroke near my mother. I don’t want any of this.”
Marci looks ready to argue.
I’m saved from further prying by Belle and Hannah. They set down a tray of tequila shots on the table, and I cross two fingers in front of myself.
“Hell no,” I say. “I have work tomorrow.”
“We all have work tomorrow.” Hannah, who has the Taylor family’s good looks—blue eyes, dark hair, and pouty lips—sits down and nudges Belle. “Apart from this bitch. She’s on vacation.”
“Call it a sabbatical,” Belle says. “I need a break. I think I’m going to die if I have to work with one more bratty sports star.”
I frown.
Hannah hands out the tequila shots. “Belle works for one of those big PR firms out in Houston. Sexy sports guys are her bread and butter.”
“Bread and butter?” Belle makes a gagging noise, and it’s hilarious on a woman who is so well-put together. Even in casual wear, she has an air of grace. “They’re my arch nemeses. Seriously, they’re all brats. You think that those A-List celebrities with their teeny, tiny little poodles in purses and their retainers are bad? Try a six-foot-five football player.”
“Why? What do they do?”
“It’s not what they do,” Belle says, and kicks back the shot. She smacks her lips then pulls a face. “It’s what they don’t do. They don’t behave. They don’t ask for anything politely. And they think they own the world and everyone in it.”
“That last one is something they do do, isn’t it?” Hannah asks.
Marci scoffs. “Ha! Do-do. Doo-doo.”
“Really?” Hannah asks, her shot halfway to her mouth.
“What? Come on. Doo-doo.” Marci takes a shot of tequila. “Like poop.”
“I’m cutting her off,” Belle announces, to the table and anyone who will listen.
We burst out laughing, and I feel lighter already. There’s nothing like some good girl time, and I missed that so much when I was in Dallas. The only girl time I got was when I was forced into spaces with Grace Rowling’s friends or family members or other willing victims. Marci was my saving grace in those times—I’d FaceTime her whenever possible.
“Hope you never meet Leo,” Hannah says. “You would hate him.”
“Why?” Belle asks.
“He’s a rugby player,” Hannah replies. “He’s like a walking meat wall of ego. I mean, he’s my brother and I love him, but the man’s a pain in the ass.”
Belle grimaces. “Hard pass.”
I’ve had one cocktail tonight, and if I take this shot, I’m done for the evening. I down it and pull a face as the girls cheer. The guy behind the bar has turned up the music, and men and women make their way out onto the sand to dance. There’s a dancefloor too, but the party spills out onto the beach, and it’s a vibe.
“Ladies, we have to do this more often,” Marci says. “The hanging out together part, not the tequila.”
“Hear, hear,” Hannah says. “Marc has got a point. You’re going back to Houston soon, and June’s only here for the summer, right?”
