Chad is a good guy. He’s the type of guy who wants a family and a home right here in this small town. He wants peace and quiet. I hate peace and quiet. I’m not a good girl—just ask any of the old biddies in town. I’m a Jezebel. Maybe I’ll have a family one day, but it’ll be later, after I see the world…
Oh, God, all my excuses sound so lame with this gorgeous man standing here, burning with lust for me, that massive snake straining in his sweatpants.
“Right. You’re right. We should… slow it down.” Chad steps back, scrubbing a hand behind his neck. It drops quickly, covering the anaconda in his pants, shoving it down. Poor anaconda. “I need a few minutes before I can drive you home. What is it? One hour per drink?”
Both our eyes go to the tequila and empty beer bottles on the bar.
“It’s okay.” I pull out my phone and slide down to my feet. “I’ll call an Uber.”
“No, I should drive you. Or at least let me pay…”
I turn my phone face to him. “Already done.”
I know myself. I have to act fast, rip off the Band-Aid, or I won’t leave at all. Now my only question is why the hell did my brain pick tonight to do the right thing?
“I still can’t believe they have Uber in this town,” Chad mutters.
“It’s because of the strip.” Looking down at my phone, I feel guilty. “Listen, I didn’t mean to—” The device dings. “Shit, it’s already here.”
I pick up the plastic bag holding my clothes and start for the door. My shoes are down on the landing.
“Wait…” Chad puts a hand on my forearm. It’s warm and inviting, and I hesitate, looking up into his whiskey eyes. “I had a great time tonight.”
I step forward and give him the quickest peck on the cheek. “Me too.”
Then I run down the stairs, snatching my ruined shoes off the step as I dash into the night before I can second-guess myself.
Nine
Tabby
The universe hates me.
The second I jump into the Uber, I nearly jump right back out again.
“Tabby?” None other than Jimmy Rhodes is behind the wheel. “You’re World Sites, LLC?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Earning money. What are you doing at Deputy Tucker’s place? Drunk?”
“I am not drunk.” Seeing him is a total buzz-kill, and I slump back against the seat crossing my arms. “Are you even old enough to drive for Uber?”
“I told you I’m eighteen now.” He’s driving too s
low down the short road through town. He doesn’t turn at the stop sign like he should, and I sit up quick.
“You’re taking the long way.”
“I’m following my Uber directions. It’s how I get paid.” He’s silent, but it doesn’t last long. “Really, Tab? Chad Tucker? He is not the guy for you. You’re too different.”
Tell me about it. “I expect you think you’re the guy for me?”
“Maybe.”
“Snap out of it, Jimmy. I’m never going out with you.”
His shoulders slump and all the cockiness is gone. Now I feel doubly bad.