If I was going to a damn country bar, I was going looking like the son of Dean Finlay. Country bars weren’t my thing, although Blaire’s boots were definitely on my list of favorite things. Any reason to see her in those boots was a plus.
I grabbed a Slacker Demon shirt and threw it on with my jeans. Then I added my thumb ring. I brushed my teeth and added deodorant before stopping and looking at myself in the mirror. I was missing something.
I grabbed a few of the small hoops I wore on occasion and slid them into my ear. Sticking out my tongue, I grinned, thinking about Blaire’s interest in my tongue piercing. She was almost in my lap last night trying to look at it. If she attempted that tonight, I might just let her crawl all over me. Shaking my head at my thoughts, which would lead to nothing but trouble, I ran for the stairs. I hadn’t taken ten minutes, but I was pushing it.
On my way back down the stairs, my eyes found Blaire, who was watching me closely. It made my heart speed up when she looked at me like I was some kind of treat. God knows I had thought about tasting her in many, many ways. The idea of her having any naughty thoughts about me got me more excited than I needed to be in these tight jeans.
When her eyes made it to my face, I stuck out my tongue so she could see the piercing. Her eyes flared, and I wanted to groan. Damn, the things I wanted to show her with this little piece of silver.
“I figure if I’m going to a honky-tonk with guys in boots and cowboy hats, I need to stay true to my roots. Rock and roll is in my blood. I can’t pretend to fit in anywhere else,” I explained.
She laughed. “You’re going to look as out of place tonight as I do at your parties. This should be fun. Come on, rock-star spawn,” she said, looking pleased before heading toward the door.
I hurried around her and opened the door for her. Something else I should have been doing all along. “Since your friend is riding with us, why don’t we take one of my cars? We ’d all be more comfortable than in your truck,” I suggested. I wanted her sitting up front with me. Close to me. So I could look at those legs . . . and boots. I didn’t want to be crammed into a truck with Bethy.
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “But we’d fit in better if we took my truck.”
I pulled out the small remote from my pocket to open the door to the garage where my Range Rover was parked. Blaire swung her gaze over and watched as the door opened.
“That’s certainly impressive,” she said.
“Does that mean we can take mine? I’m not crazy about sharing a seat with Bethy. The girl likes to touch things without permission,” I said. She’d never touched me, but I had heard about her.
“Yes, she does. She’s a bit of a flirt, isn’t she?” Blaire said, grinning.
“ ‘Flirt’ is a kind word for her,” I replied.
“OK. Sure. We can take the badass Rush Finlay’s killer wheels, if he insists,” Blaire said with a shrug.
Score. Now I needed to get her into the passenger seat before she tried to climb into the back. I headed toward the Range Rover, nodding for her to follow.
I opened the door for her, and she stopped and looked up at me. “Do you open all your friends’ car doors?”
I never opened doors for girls. It made them expect more. But with Blaire, I wanted to. I wanted her to feel cherished. Damn, this was dangerous. “No,” I told her honestly, and moved away to get in on my side. I shouldn’t flirt. I shouldn’t treat her like there could be more.
I climbed in. I wasn’t sure what to say to her now.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude,” she said, breaking the silence.
I was making this weird for her. I had to work on that if this was going to work. “No. You’re right. I just don’t have any female friends, so I’m not good at balancing what I should do and what I shouldn’t.”
“So you open doors for your dates? That’s a very chivalrous thing to do. Your mother raised you right.” She almost sounded jealous. But . . . no. That made no sense.
“Actually, no, I don’t. I . . . you just seem like the kind of girl who deserves to have her door opened. It just made sense in my head at the moment. But I get what you’re saying. If we’re going to be friends, I need to draw a line and stay behind it.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Thank you for opening it for me. It was sweet.”
I just shrugged. I wasn’t sure I could say more without sounding like an idiot.
“We need to pick Bethy up at the country club. She’ll be at the office back behind the clubhouse at the golf course. She had to work today. She’s showering and dressing there,” Blaire explained.
I pulled out of the driveway and turned toward the club. Blaire and Bethy seemed like two completely different people. The idea of them being friends didn’t fit. “How did you and Bethy become friends?”
“We worked together one day. I think we were both in need of a friend. She’s fun and free-spirited. Everything I’m not.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You don’t want to be like Bethy. Trust me.”
She didn’t argue with me. At least she knew that Bethy was not someone to imitate. When she didn’t say anything else, I focused on getting us to the club and not staring at her legs, which she’d just crossed, making her skirt even shorter. Blaire had great legs. The little bit of sun she’d gotten on the beach made her skin glow.
The idea of those legs wrapped around me made me tremble. I kept my eyes on the road, and when she shifted, I didn’t look down. She was moving her legs. Damn.
When I parked in front of the office, she opened the door immediately and jumped down. Shit. Was she moving to let Bethy into the passenger seat? I didn’t want Bethy next to me.
Blaire had started for the door when it opened, and out stepped Bethy, dressed like she charged for sex. Red leather shorts? Really?
“What the hell are you doing in one of Rush’s rides?” she asked, looking at the Range Rover and then back at Blaire.
“He’s going with us. Rush wants to check out a honkytonk, too. So . . .” Blaire glanced back at me.
“This is seriously going to cramp your chances of picking up a man. Just saying,” Bethy said, as she walked down the steps. Then she paused and took in Blaire’s outfit. “Or not. You look hot. I mean, I knew you were gorgeous, but you look really hot in that outfit. I want me some real cowgirl boots. Where’d you get those?” No shit. She looked f**king amazing. I hadn’t spent time around Bethy, but I liked the fact she wasn’t too catty to admit that Blaire looked amazing.
“Thank you, and as for the boots, I got them for Christmas two years ago from my mom. They were hers. I had loved them since she bought them, and after she got, after . . . she got sick, she gave them to me.”
My chest constricted. I hadn’t known they were her mother’s. Fuck. I’d been thinking about doing naughty things to her in them, and they were a memory from her mother. I felt like an ass.
“Your mom got sick?” Bethy asked. Apparently, they hadn’t talked much. Or was I the only one Blaire had told about her mom?
“Yeah. But that’s another story. Come on, let’s go find us some cowboys,” Blaire said, waving off her question. She wanted to find a cowboy. Damn, that made it hard to breathe. She wouldn’t have a hard time finding a man with a pulse. They were all going to come running when they saw her. I couldn’t hinder her fun time. She’d never let me come with her again.
Finding a way to stay close and watch her without getting in the way was going to be tricky. And hard as f**k. I was going to want to rip the arms off anyone who touched her. I wasn’t making any promises if someone touched her ass. It would be on then.
Bethy sauntered toward the Range Rover, grinning at me like she knew my secret. Then she walked past the passenger door and opened the door to the backseat. “I’ll let you ride up front, because I have a sneaky feeling that is where the driver wants you,” she said, as she let her hair fall over her face and winked at me.
Huh. This girl wasn’t so bad after all.
Blaire climbed back into the front seat and smiled at me. “Time to get our country on,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rush Finlay going to the honky-tonk. My, my, my, what a funny thought,” Bethy said in an amused tone that said she understood exactly why I was here.
“Funny,” I agreed. “Where we headed, Bethy?” I asked her, to distract her from going any further with the teasing and embarrassing Blaire.
“Head toward the Alabama line. It’s about thirty miles that way,” she told me. I’d figured it had to be a drive. No places in Rosemary Beach or its surrounding areas were where you would find honky-tonk patrons.
Bethy talked about work that day and all that Blaire had missed. Some drama with cart girls. Apparently, one had the hots for Jimmy, who was a server in the restaurant at the club. She got mad at another girl because she was flirting with Jimmy. Jimmy was well loved among the cougars at the club, too. Problem was, Jimmy preferred men. It was a big secret, because Jimmy liked the tips he got from the older female members. So they were all wasting their time. Most people didn’t know he batted for the other team.
Blaire found this funny, and I enjoyed listening to her laugh. I even turned the music down so I could focus on what she was saying to Bethy. She tried to include me some, but mostly she listened to Bethy talk.
We pulled up in front of a bar I recognized. I should have known we were headed here when Bethy had said to head toward the Alabama state line. This wasn’t just any bar. It was a famous one. Rednecks from all over made their way here to have a beer.
Blaire opened her own door before I could get to her. I decided to back off some and let her enjoy herself. At least the best that I could. I walked beside them as Bethy explained about the bar and why it was famous. After opening the door to the bar, I stepped back and let the girls enter. Blaire’s eyes were wide as she took in the place. Bethy explained that the live band would start up soon, and Blaire’s smile got bigger. I didn’t look around. I knew men were checking her out, and I wasn’t sure I could handle it. I kept my focus on her. Then Bethy mentioned tequila shots. Bad idea.
I moved behind Blaire and placed my hand on her back. She might not realize it, but it showed possession, and these ass**les needed to know I was with her. I led the girls over to an empty booth farther away from the dance floor. The music was so damn loud I couldn’t hear Blaire’s soft voice.
Blaire slid in on one side, and I made sure to stand so that Bethy had no choice but to push me aside or sit across from Blaire. Then I slid in beside Blaire. Bethy didn’t miss my move and shot me a glare. She wanted Blaire to hunt for cowboys tonight.
I wasn’t going to make that easy. Even if Blaire wanted to,
I wasn’t sure I could physically allow her to without beating some ass-wipe’s head in.
“What do you want to drink?” I asked, leaning down toward Blaire’s ear so she could hear me. And so I could smell her.
“I’m not sure,” she said, and glanced over at Bethy “What do I drink?” she asked her.
Bethy looked surprised and laughed. “You haven’t been drinking before?”
No, she hadn’t been drinking before. Could Bethy not look at Blaire and be able to tell this?
“I’m not old enough to buy my own alcohol. Are you?” she asked sweetly.
I was so glad I was here. The idea of this happening without me here to protect her made me ill.
Bethy clapped her hands like she was giddy with delight at the idea that Blaire was a complete innocent. “This is gonna be so much fun. And yes, I’m twenty-one, or at least my ID says I am.” She looked at me. “You need to let her out. I’m taking her to the bar.”
Like hell she was. I looked at Blaire, ignoring Bethy. “You’ve never had alcohol?” I asked, already knowing she hadn’t.
“Nope. But I intend to remedy that tonight,” she said with determination. Too damn sweet.
“Then you need to go slow. You won’t have a very high tolerance,” I explained, then turned to grab the arm of the waitress walking past us. I had to feed Blaire first. “We need a menu.”
“Why are you ordering food? We’re here to drink and dance with cowboys. Not eat,” Bethy said angrily.
She could f**k off. I wasn’t going to let her hurt Blaire. Drinking could hurt her if not done right. If Bethy wanted to argue with me, then we were gonna have a problem. “She’s never drunk before. She needs to eat first, or she’ll be bent over puking her guts out and cursing you in two hours’ time.
Bethy waved her hand at me as if I were talking Chinese. “Whatever, Daddy Rush. I’m going to get me somethin’ to drink, and I’m getting her somethin’, too. So feed her fast.”