CHAPTER 12
Reagan
Iwas feeling a pretty decent buzz as I walked back from the bathroom to the farm table out on the patio where Cheyenne and I had been posted all night. I knew that in the morning I was going to regret drinking that last Jack and Coke, but right now I was feeling good. Two was usually my limit, but I’d gone for a third.
The night had not gone at all as I’d planned—starting with Kevin giving me a sloppy wet kiss during the picture that Cheyenne had insisted I take with him. I was told the kiss was an honor, since apparently Mr. Bacon didn’t lay one on just anybody that took a selfie with him, but in my estimation, it was just very wet.
Both Hank and Jimmy had made appearances, each staying for about an hour. They’d come and gone in well-choreographed shifts. I wasn’t sure if they’d planned it so that they could each get time to spend with their long lost sister or if it had been a coincidence, but I’d done my best to make myself scarce while they were visiting. I also made sure to be back at the table when she was left on her own. There’d been a steady stream of people welcoming Cheyenne back to town and she’d seemed a tad overwhelmed.
While Jimmy and Hank had been there, I’d played a game of pool in the back and Skittles the parrot had squawked, “You suck!” every time I missed a shot. I’d danced with several gentleman, and my favorite partner had been Ray. He had to be pushing eighty, was barely an inch taller than my five foot two, and was a hundred pounds soaking wet. But he had moves like Fred Astaire and more stories to tell than LeVar Burton from Reading Rainbow. He’d been born and raised in Firefly and had resided above the bar for over fifty years. He filled me in on some of the juicier town history that Stew hadn’t covered during the trolley ride.
My biggest takeaway of the night, though, had to be that the spell I’d fallen under had amplified a million times over. Billy and I hadn’t had much in the way of interaction. He’d kept an eye on his sister and stopped by to check on her all night. It was sweet to see how protective he was over her. But no sooner would he appear than he’d be called away.
All night he’d kept an eye on Cheyenne, and I’d kept both of mine on him. I’d been trying to work out what it was about him that had me acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. It had taken me a few hours and the third Jack and Coke had helped. The answer was: it was physiological. I was drawn to him on a cellular level. It was an animal, primal attraction that I really wanted to act on.
Witnessing Billy Comfort in his element had been its own, more potent, form of intoxication. And it had also confirmed that my initial diagnosis this morning, that there was something more to him than just his drop dead gorgeous good looks.
My hypothesis that his sex appeal ran much deeper than that had been right on the money. Call it mojo, essence, charm, or charisma; whatever you labeled it, he had it, and I was responding to it.
It was in the effortless way he moved when he made up to five drinks at a time while never letting his smile or the conversation drop. It was in the way he spoke to each person as if there was no one else in the bar, making every person he interacted with feel how firmly he was in total control of a room filled with inebriated idiots. He oozed authority and confidence in the most seductive and arousing way.
And it was something I feared my current tipsy self was not going to be able to resist. Sober Reagan had a difficult time controlling her impulses around Billy Comfort, three-Jack-and-Coke Reagan didn’t have a freaking prayer. I needed to go home before I embarrassed myself. That was the responsible and professional thing to do.
But if I were being honest, I knew that if I’d really wanted to be responsible and not let the line between Billy and me blur—if I truly wanted things to stay strictly professional—then I wouldn’t have put on my best pair of “holy shit” jeans before heading out the door (so called because they tended to make guys say “holy shit” when they saw my ass).
And I wouldn’t have taken the extra step of letting my hair down and giving myself a smoky eye. And I wouldn’t have kept looking at him after the first few times he’d caught me staring at him over the course of the night.
But I did, and I did, and I did. So, even before I downed that first Jack and Coke, and especially after, I’d known exactly what I wanted. And it was Billy. I was tipsy but not drunk, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse for wanting to take him back to my room, throw him on the bed, and have my way with him.
As for Cheyenne, though, I’d say that it was safe to say she was firmly in drunk territory. She must’ve needed the liquid courage to make it through the night. Either that, or her tolerance was crazy low, because as I walked up to the table, I found her head resting on her arms, and she was snoring softly.
Billy materialized beside me. “She’s out like a light.”
I nodded. “Big day.”
Our bodies weren’t touching at all, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t feel him. Heat radiated off of him and electricity zapped between us.
What the hell kind of spell did this half-grinning charmer cast on me?
And, more to the point, how could I break it so that I didn’t freeze around him? Because all night, I’d not said more than a few words to him. As of right this minute, he must’ve thought I was totally socially inept. Or an ice queen. I couldn’t decide which would be worse.
Whichever, though, one thing was for sure: I could barely form words around him.
I tried again. “She probably just needs to sleep it off.”
Okay. Not the greatest banter, but more than two words. Baby steps, Reagan. Baby steps.
Billy’s face lit up with the flirtiest, sexiest smile I’d ever seen, and my lady parts responded with a wave of heat and tingles that made me squirm.
“You know, lady lawyer, I think you’re right. Do you know where she’s staying?”
“Nope. I met her here.”
He glanced around the bar and then sighed. “I’m going to tell Cash he’s on his own to close up. I think I’ll take her back to my place and let her crash out there.”
“I’ll come with you.” The unsolicited suggestion came out without the involvement of my mental filter, which normally employed a much stricter vetting process. As soon as the words flew from my mouth, my eyes went wide and my face lost color. Thinking fast, I grabbed her purse. “To help.”
I waited, wondering if he was going to call me out on the unprovoked self-invite. My heart was beating so hard and fast I would’ve sworn there were wild horses running through my chest. I’d never done anything like that before.