Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Are she and Slick together? Maybe it’s a friends-with-benefits situation. Maybe their relationship is new, and they haven’t put a label on it yet.
Doesn’t fucking matter. He’s talking to other girls, and it’s upsetting her, and he doesn’t seem to give a shit. Tells me everything I need to know.
“Maybe we should go,” Wyatt says. “I’m…tired.”
“You’re fine.”
“Cash, she’s allowed—”
“I don’t care.”
“Then why do you look like you want to punch him?”
I don’t have an answer for that, so I don’t give one. I just sit and glower, watching as Slick finally turns back to Mollie. He doesn’t dance, though. He leans down to say something in her ear, and then he’s heading back toward us.
Mollie stays on the dance floor, looking annoyed. A little disappointed, even.
I bite the inside of my cheek and taste blood.
Wyatt repeats, “We should go.”
He’s right. But my boots don’t budge. Slick saunters over, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and scans the wall behind the bar. Almost like he’s looking for a menu.
I laugh.
“What?” He eyes me.
“Nothing. Just—”
“Tallulah will make you anything you want,” Wyatt interrupts. “She knows her shit backward and forward.”
“Bet you don’t have Willett bourbon back there, do you?” Palmer asks Tallulah.
The bartender gives him a tight smile as she wipes her hands on a towel. “You lookin’ for the Family Estate Rye or the Johnny Drum?”
Palmer blinks. “Y’all have Johnny Drum?”
“We do.”
“I’ll take that, then. Ice, splash of ginger.”
This guy deserves to be punched.
“No ginger,” I grunt. “Or ice.”
Palmer’s eyebrows snap together. “Excuse me?”
“Whiskey that good, you don’t add anything to it.”
“I’ll drink it how I damn well please.” He takes a step closer. “You got a problem, son?”
It’s the son that gets me.
And the slicked-back hair.
And the drink order and the way he flirted with other women in front of Mollie and that dumb fucking Denali truck.
I got several inches on the guy. He doesn’t flinch, though, when I step closer too. “I do have a problem, actually. You calling me son for starters. You hurtin’ Mollie’s feelings, though—that’s what really bothers me.”
“Cash.” The warning is clear in Wyatt’s voice. “Cool it.”
Holding up my hands, I keep my eyes locked on Slick’s. “I was raised better’n than to throw the first punch. Were you, son?”
His gaze flashes. “What’s your deal?”
“My deal is, you treat your date with respect.”
“Mollie’s just a friend.”
I laugh again. “You’re an idiot, then.”
It happens quick. One second, I’m staring down Slick. The next, his fist rams into my jaw.
Pain blooms inside my face. I taste blood. My heart beats loudly inside my ears. Wyatt shouts. But before he can grab me to hold me back, I’m coiling my right arm and hitting Slick in the mouth.
He falls back with a howl. Suddenly, the entire bar’s on its feet, the music going dead just in time for me to hear Mollie scream my name.
“Cash! Palmer! What the hell, y’all? Stop!”
She’s making a mad dash toward us from the dance floor.
Palmer regroups, the hand holding his mouth falling away.
It’s covered in blood. A white-hot sense of satisfaction shoots through my veins.
Wyatt is finally able to grab me by the arms and pull me back. Ryder and Duke appear at my side, Ryder standing between Slick and me.
“Easy.” He glowers at Slick. “You’re outnumbered, so whatever you’re thinkin’ about doing, don’t.”
Tallulah throws her towel over her shoulder. “No fights in the bar. Y’all wanna go at it, head outside.”
Mollie is here now, breathless. Her eyes are—well, I can’t tell what she’s feeling, but it sure as hell ain’t disappointment or hurt anymore.
Ryder has the good sense to move closer to Mollie, standing between her and Palmer. I taught him well.
I try to yank my arms free, but Wyatt doesn’t let me go.
Slick eyes me. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Already told you. You upset Mollie.”
“What?” Mollie’s eyes bulge, a divot appearing on her forehead. “How did you—he didn’t—”
“I can’t believe that’s why you’re being such a dick,” Palmer says.
I glare at him. “That not a good enough reason?”
“You’re crazy, bro. All y’all”—he glances around our little half circle of Rivers—“are crazy.”
I give my arms a vicious yank, finally pulling out of Wyatt’s grasp. I jab my finger into Palmer’s chest, my mouth an inch from his face. “Good. Then you won’t ever come back to Hartsville, you hear me? I so much as see that pussy-ass truck again, you’ll be in for a world of hurt. Got me?”
He narrows his eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Cash”—I push him—“Rivers.”
“Fuck you,” he says, and then he charges.
I’m bigger than him, and I have my brothers. It ain’t a fair fight. That don’t stop me from locking my arm around his head in a half nelson. I hold him there while he tries to jab me in the side.