7
Trey
Iwasn’t sure which was worse.
The long, awkward silences at the beginning of the night.
Or.
The way Wes was flirting with my mom, now.
Good God, but I wanted to pound that man’s face in.
And the pièce de résistance?
Lexi was wearing a pink, off the shoulder dress. It was short, but also cute, and ruffly.
The second I saw her, I wanted to wrap her up in my arms—and kiss the crap right out of her.
Her hair fell down her bare—help me Jesus—shoulders, making me want to trail my tongue over her shoulder, and up her neck to her plump, pink lips.
A ridiculous song came on, and my mom grabbed Lexi’s hand. “Oh my gosh, I love this song, come dance with me.”
And off they went, one giggling more than the other.
It was a stupid song with some very inappropriate lyrics—that chicks around the globe seemed to love.
Lexi and Mom started shaking their stuff while I shook my head. “I do not know why women love that song so much,” I said as I tipped back the last of my whiskey.
“Women are a mystery,” he mumbled out, his eyes clearly still stuck on my mom.
Honestly.
The guy needed to stop.
“Wes, what exactly are you staring at?” I finally confronted him.
He twisted his head toward me and grinned. “That,” he said, pointing at my mom, “is the one that got away. You ever had anyone like that?”
I answered him swiftly and honestly, “Nope.”
“Word of advice? You ever find the one—and I know it ain’t my daughter—” he kept staring at my mom like she was a medium rare filet, “don’t let her go.”
He picked up his beer and took a long swig. “Or, you’ll spend the rest of your life pining away, searching for the next best thing.”
His eyes returned to mine. “And let me tell you something,” he said, “that just does not exist. Now, excuse me while I go attempt to right some wrongs.”
After that, Wes downed the rest of his beer and headed toward the dance floor.
Where my mom and Lexi were currently making large fools of themselves.
They knew it.
All the other women on the dance floor knew it because they were doing the exact same thing.
I watched as Wes walked up to the DJ, and spoke to him. He passed something from his wallet to the guy—obviously cash—then shook his hand.
When the current song ended, David Lee Murphy’s, Dust On The Bottle started playing.