“Hi, Jasper,” I say before flopping down onto the couch next to Beau.
“Hey,” he huffs out. Clearly not chatty, which is fine by me.
“We ordered you a drink.” Beau pushes a small wine glass, full to the top, in my direction with a bit of a grimace on his face. “Thought you seemed like a white wine gal.”
Jasper chuckles and tips his beer back.
My eyes roll. These guys are having way too much fun with the city-girl jokes. The worst part is, they’re not even wrong. “Wine and tequila. But this doesn’t feel like a tequila night.”
They both laugh, and I reach for the glass of wine, praying I don’t spill it all over myself.
From here, I have a perfect view of Rhett, seated on a stool where two round tables have been pulled together. He’s smiling, talking with his hands, and my eyes trail along them, the veined tops of them, catching on the glint of silver on his finger. The ring that matches the silver cuff bracelet around his wrist.
Only Rhett Eaton could make jewelry look so goddamn manly.
Outwardly, he seems like he’s having a good time, but there’s something off about it. Something is not quite right. His face looks serene and in his element, but his shoulders are tight. There’s a set to his jaw and a pinch to the corners of his eyes. His smile doesn’t quite stretch all the way.
“You trying to cast some sort of curse on my little brother?” Beau asks, head swiveling between my face and where I’m staring.
I snort and take a big gulp of wine. It tastes terrible, but I don’t care. I need a little liquid courage. “No. I’m trying to figure out how to do my job without making him hate me more than he already does.”
“Fair. He does seem to hate you.”
“Rhett?” Jasper asks with a raised brow.
I nod absently just as Beau says, “Oh, hell yeah.”
The hockey player snorts. “Nah. That kid doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He’s nice to everyone.”
But does he mean it? That’s the question bouncing around in my head as I watch him sit there rigidly as a woman rubs his shoulder while staring at him with hearts in her eyes.
“You think he’ll be nice to me when I walk over there and tell him he can’t take all those girls home tonight? Or drink too much?” I probably should have put my foot down on going out at all tonight. All the ways tonight could go wrong flash through my head.
Jasper scoffs and shakes his head. But it’s Beau who pipes up. “Rhett doesn’t care about taking those girls home. He’s just too nice to tell them to leave him alone.”
“Facts,” Jasper grumbles with a smirk before tipping the brown bottle back against his lips.
“If he was a prick like Jasper, he’d be fine.”
Jasper doesn’t even try to correct his friend’s assessment.
“I don’t know . . .” My nose wrinkles as I weigh my options.
It’s at that moment the server swings past. “Y’all doing okay? Can I grab you another round?”
And then Beau’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.
“Yeah.” He pulls a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and places it in the middle of the table. “I will give you another one of those for every ultra-girly milk-based beverage you take over to my brother.”
The server’s eyes widen. And so do mine.
Jasper holds a fist up over his lips and his shoulders shake. “Put an umbrella in it.”
Beau’s not done though. “And announce to the table that the drink is from his future wife and that she knows this is his favorite.”
My jaw drops as I stare at Beau. “What are you doing?”
“Pissing him off enough to drag him away from that table for you.”
I laugh. This is not the plan I had in mind. Boys.
The server nibbles at her lip, staring down at the cash as she hugs the brown plastic tray to her chest. “Is this a trick?”
“No, Bailey,” Beau answers, his voice softening. “This has nothing to do with you. All in good fun.”
She turns wide eyes on him, looking particularly young in this moment. Though I know to work in the bar, she has to be at least eighteen. “Okay. Fine.”
And with that, she swipes the cash off the table and scurries away.
7
Rhett
Kip: Talked to the rest of your sponsors today. A couple were undecided on what they’re going to do. But Wrangler and Ariat are still on . . . so long as you keep your shit together.
Kip: Hello? You going to thank me?