She walked away, and I shamelessly watched her ass swing as she went. Okay, that was a douchebag move, but that ass was made to be watched.
“Hi there.” An intoxicated blonde wearing a tiara and veil leaned heavily on the counter beside me, pressing her breasts together above her low-cut tank top. Ah yes, the bride who had been table dancing a few songs ago. “You’re pretty hot.”
“Thanks,” I answered with a practiced smile. “I…like your tiara.”
She drunkenly wiped the back of her hand across her lips. “So, I never do this, but I have this bucket list I’m supposed to finish tonight,” she whispered loudly. “You know, part of the party.” She pointed to her chest, where her status as the bride was emblazoned in glitter.
“Okay?” My eyes flickered to the bridesmaids who were gathered a discreet distance behind her, watching us without said discretion.
“So, do you want to be number eleven?” She grinned as she blatantly undressed me with her eyes, lingering on the bulge in my jeans that wasn’t there for her.
Fuck no, I didn’t.
“Is number eleven, take a shot with a stranger?” I offered as her bridesmaids giggled drunkenly.
“No. But if you take me somewhere quiet, I’ll show you,” she offered, letting her fingers trail down her chest to her neckline.
“Sorry, I have to pass. I have an early morning.” I turned my body to face toward the bar in hopes that she’d get the point.
If she didn’t, Echo blatantly wrinkling her nose at her got the point across loud and clear. “You ladies need me to call you a cab?”
“We have a limo,” the bride snapped, then turned and walked out, her bridesmaids following her like little obedient ducklings.
“You missed a sure thing right there, West Coast. And if you’d mentioned that a Reaper tryout was the reason you were getting up early, I bet a few of her friends would have joined in.” Echo watched me with blatant curiosity. “Not a one-night stand kind of guy?”
“I don’t mind one-night stands,” I said with a shrug. “But I don’t fuck women who belong to other men, let alone ones who are marrying them.”
“Not a cheater,” she said, raising her glass of water. “Noted.”
“I’d rather cut my dick off than cheat, or be with someone who does. When you give your word, you keep it. It’s as simple as that. What the fuck does marriage even mean to someone who does shit like that?” I nodded toward the door.
“What does marriage mean in general?” Echo challenged. “It’s stupid to promise yourself to someone for the rest of your life like you have any control or say in what’s going to happen. People fuck up. They leave. They cheat. They die. I don’t know why we don’t contract marriage for terms. Shit, it worked out well for Langley, right?”
I chuckled. “It did.” I chugged the rest of my water and set the glass on the counter. It was good to know that Echo was trustworthy. There were very few people who knew how Langley and Axel started out.
“Look, unfortunately for me, I like having you here,” Echo drawled with a roll of her eyes. Before I could ask her exactly what she meant, she continued. “But you need to get some sleep. Forget about everything that’s holding you back and give it what you have.”
“And if I make it?” I asked her. “Then what? I move my mother out here? I’m gone three to four days a week? She’s alone in a facility she doesn’t know? I can’t just walk out on her. I fucking refuse.” The last words came out harsher than I intended, but Echo didn’t flinch.
She looked around the bar, her eyes lingering on the soft leather of the booths, the high-end stone of the bar, and what looked to be hand-carved built-ins that housed the expensive liquor supply. “You know, my dad and I always dreamed of owning a bar together. We’d talk about what brands we’d keep in stock, and what music we’d allow on the jukebox. I told him I drew the line at Waylon Jennings, but he always preached that it wasn’t a bar without him.” A smile lifted her lips, and I knew without her saying another word that she’d lost her father. “He’ll never get to see our dream because he’s gone. I’ll have to build my dream without him.” Her eyes met mine, and my heart clenched at the emotion she fought to keep at bay. “I bet your mother would give everything to experience your dream with you, so don’t use her as an excuse.”
“I just don’t know what good making the team will do if I can’t leave her in Seattle and it’s really unfair to move her here, away from everyone she knows.”
“I just don’t know why you think you make the choices for a grown woman,” she countered, then sighed. “Look. The first step is to make the team. That’s what earns you the right to make the decision about taking the contract. That’s what gives you the chance to offer the move to your mother. It’s not all on your shoulders, you know.”