“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me.” She rolls her eyes, and I fight the urge to laugh. “I’m just glad to see my girl happy,” she mutters, pushing in next to me then motioning for the bartender to come over. Once he’s close, she asks him for a vodka and cranberry with extra vodka, and then smiles as he hands it to her.
“Gran, you’re not supposed to be drinking.” Jax takes the drink from her just as she puts it to her lips, and her nose scrunches up in disgust.
“If no one knows I’m drinking it, I can drink it,” she informs him, resting her hands on her hips.
“It doesn’t work like that, Gran, and I saw you order it and know you’re drinking, so your point is moot.”
“You sound like your mom,” she grumbles, then huffs before stomping off in the direction of Lilly, who is standing with Cash and Trevor.
“I’m not quite sure she likes me,” I say, watching her go, hearing Jax laugh.
“You could commit a murder in front of all of these people, and none of them would bat an eyelash. Trust me, you’ve won everyone over without even trying,” he tells me, then looks out at the dance floor to where his sister is now dancing with her cousin Bax, who flew in yesterday with her other cousin Cobi, from Montana, where they have been working. “How’s she doing?”
“Good, she’s been preoccupied with my brother, his wife, and our nephews in town, so she hasn’t had much time to dwell. Have you heard anything new?” I ask as he motions for the bartender to come back over.
“No, nothing. And normally with a story like hers being on the news, there would at least be a couple solid leads, but no one has come forward with any new information.”
“Did you look into Isla?” I know right now isn’t exactly the time to be talking about this shit, but with everything going on we haven’t had a second to touch base in over a week.
“I did. She was in New York and didn’t step foot back into Tennessee until days after the incident,” he says, then pauses, asking the bartender for a beer when he finally makes his way down the bar toward us.
“I have to be honest with you. The more time that goes by without anything else occurring, the more my gut is telling me it was just an accident,” he mutters under his breath, smiling at someone who passes.
“I want to believe that, but I’m not going to let my guard down. I’d rather be overly cautions than pissed at myself if something happened again.”
“We’re on the same page with that, especially with the women who’ve turned up dead.”
“Have you heard anything about that?”
“Not much. The cops I know are keeping a tight lid on the cases since they seem to have been committed by the same person,” he explains, taking a pull from the beer the bartender hands him.
“What about the women?”
“I only know what I’ve read in the papers, and I imagine you’ve read the same things I have.”
I had read the papers. One woman was a known prostitute, and the other was a college student. The only thing they had in common, as far as I could tell, was the fact their bodies were found in town and they were both from Nashville.
“Did you ever think about the rest of the men in the world when you planned this shit?” Parker asks, breaking into our conversation, and I raise a brow at him as he leans across the bar and asks the bartender for a shot of whiskey.
“Cara is currently talking to a group of women about wanting us to renew our vows. First, I didn’t know that was an actual thing. And second, there’s no damn way I could ever pull off something like this,” he waves his hand around, “without asking her mom to help me, and that shit will never happen since I still remember what it was like when she took over our first wedding,” he grumbles, picking up the drink the bartender sets down in front of him, shooting half the glass back before looking at me once more with narrowed eyes.
Shaking my head, I open my mouth to speak, but then look out toward the middle of the room when the DJ calls my name and requests me to meet my wife on the dance floor.
“Christ, and now you’re going to dance. I’m never going to live this down,” Parker mutters with a disbelieving huff, which I ignore as I set my glass of bourbon on top of the bar.
Walking toward my wife, I watch her hold out her hand and her face light up as “A Thousand Years” begins to play through the speakers. “Will you dance with me?” she asks, and without answering I pull her against me as soon as I’m close enough to do so, and then rest one hand on her waist and the other on the back of her neck. “This day has been amazing. Thank you,” she whispers, tilting her head back to look up at me.