“You really think so?” I glance around. There are a whole lot of good-looking cowboys in here, but no one that grabs my attenti
on quite the way Noah does.
“I know so.” Charlotte takes a drink and scoots out of the booth. “Watch this.”
“Charlotte. Charlotte.” I hiss her name several times, but she doesn’t turn around. My eyes nearly bug out of my head when I see her hips swaying seductively from side to side. Charlotte is beautiful, with curves in all the places I’ll never have curves, and I’m crazy jealous of her hourglass figure.
Without a care in the world, she saunters up to a group of men hovering around a pool table. Although I can’t hear what they’re saying, I do see the appreciative looks she’s getting. They all laugh and talk, and before I know it, she’s heading back.
Waggling her brows, Charlotte smirks. “We’ve got next game.”
“But I don’t know how to play pool,” I say, glancing back toward the group of men, two of whom are looking at me. One of them waves, flashing me a friendly smile, and I wave back.
“Those two fine-looking men are Rhett and Cooper. They’re twins,” she says in an excited whisper.
“I see that,” I whisper back. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know how to shoot pool.”
“Yes, but Cooper does, and one thing that’s sure to get your mind off Noah is that man pressing you up against the pool table as he shows you how to hold the stick,” she says suggestively.
Oh Lord. “I’m going to need alcohol for this.”
Raising my arm, I flag our waitress, and in a matter of minutes Charlotte and I are staring at four shot glasses filled with Southern Comfort.
“To friends,” she says.
Clinking my glass against hers, I smile. “To friends.”
I tip my head back, eyes watering as the whiskey burns a path down my throat.
“Holy shit,” Charlotte hisses, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. “That is the most disgusting shot I’ve ever had. Next time I pick the flavor.” She cringes, a tremor running through her body, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Deal.”
“You ladies about ready?” The deep southern drawl pulls my eyes upward.
One of the twins Charlotte talked to is standing next to the table, his blue eyes shining and twin dimples winking, and good God I’m so far out of my league right now that I can’t even see the damn stadium.
I’m having mixed feelings about playing pool with this guy, and not because I don’t find him attractive. Because I do. Very much so. And because oddly enough, I feel like I’m cheating on Noah. Which is absolutely absurd, because Noah doesn’t want me.
My stomach churns at that thought, and I begin to second-guess the greasy food and shot of whiskey.
Charlotte catches my attention and smiles as though she understands the craziness going on in my head. It must be a woman thing. And then, because she’s so amazing, she says, “Almost, Coop. I can call you Coop, right?” she asks, but keeps talking, not giving him a chance to respond. “Lennon has one more shot, and then we’ll be right there.”
Cooper gives us a lazy smile, raps his knuckles on the table twice, and walks back over to join his friends.
Grabbing the shot glass, I bring it to my lips and tip my head back, allowing the amber liquid to wash away any and all thoughts of Noah.
Noah who?
Okay, who am I kidding, it didn’t really work, but damn it I wanted it to. And if you want something bad enough, you have to make it happen. That’s another thing I’ve learned in my twenty-four years. Right now I really want to not think about Noah and his stupid lips that aren’t at all soft and his dumb hair that isn’t sexy—
“Here, do this one too,” Charlotte says, handing me her second shot. “You look like you could use it. You are breathing, right? Because your face is turning blotchy and red.”
I nod. “Heat rash, maybe? I get them all the time,” I say, taking the glass from Charlotte. I chug the last shot. My arms and legs begin to tingle, my lips getting numb.
I’ll regret this tomorrow, but tonight I don’t care.
It’s been two days since I kissed Lennon, and I haven’t stopped thinking about her since. That’s not from lack of trying. I’ve buried myself in work, gotten my bike taken care of, and even cleaned out the gutters. But nothing fucking works. She’s stuck in my head like an old, familiar song.