Page 17

“You coming or not? Because as much as she’s gorgeous dancing on top of the tables, the manager is pretty pissed about it.” I heard men in the background whistling at her, breaking my eardrums in the phone.

I jumped from my bunk as if flames were shooting out of it. “I’ll be there in ten.” I woke Presley and told him about the emergency and left as quickly as I could.

The Whiskey Shack sat about five miles outside of town, far enough away for most people in the valley to ignore, close enough to still be a nuisance. Like your typical dive bar, neon signs filled every window, and inside was dark and likely dirty. You wouldn’t dare eat off of it’s floor. And I did not like seeing a few motorcycles from a local gang parked out front.

Inside, my eyes adjusted and located Lacey right away. Long gone were her prissy city clothes. The small town cutie came out to play in cutoff shorts, and a blue halter top. Her white boots stomped on the table top as she danced, with a few admiring onlookers. Beyond her I could see Reed shaking his red face. It was bad enough he had to put up with the local bikers causing trouble in his bar on occasion, but a single drunk girl like her?

“How in the hell did this happen? When I left Lacey this morning, she seemed to have her shit together,” I asked Branson.

“According to some of the patrons here, she waltzed in with Jasmine Jones,” he explained.

“The mayor’s wife?” I scrunched my face and did not care for this one bit.

“Soon to be ex-wife. Apparently the two were drinking buddies, causing a ruckus, and dancing and such. Only when things got out of hand, Jasmine knew when to leave. And she left Lacey behind.”

“Some friend.” I snorted and marched over to Lacey. “Hey darlin’. Looks like you’re having a good time.”

“Hudson! Did you come to dance with me?” She fell to her knees, continued to gyrate her hips, pouting. “No one wants to have fun with me. I’m a prin—no, a piranha.”

“You are no such thing.”

“Then you’ll dance with me right? C’mon, let’s give them somethin’ to talk about…” She slurred her words and stood again and shook her ass in front of my face, and a part of me liked the show—er, but no. This wasn’t good.

“Branson, how about you do your job and get her the hell outta here? Put her in your drunk tank for the night,” Reed yelled.

“Not happening. We like the show,” one big ugly biker fucker hollered back, and sat too close to the table, licking his lips, eyes following her. He made a move to reach out and touch her leg, but I intercepted.

“Keep your grubby paws to yourself, or you’ll have me to deal with,” I scowled at him. Branson crossed his arms and glared at him, coming to my aid.

He backed off quickly.

I reached my hands up to her. “Hey Lace, come on down here and we can dance. I’ll show you my moves.”

She took me by surprise jumping off the table and landing in my arms without warning. I caught her though, and rushed for the door, the bikers shouting behind me. As we stepped outside I heard Branson use his voice of authority to shut them down.

I knew he’d be fine. No one messed with Branson, not only because he was the best officer in town, but because he was a Goodson. We’d all watched out for each other over the years and got into plenty enough scraps that proved we could handle ourselves in a bar brawl.

“Wee. I like you carrying me.” Lacey flung her arms over her head. “Give me a ride around the parking lot. Pretty please?”

“Time to slow down there, young lady. Gotta get you home.”

“You’re not fun, Hudson. I came here to have a good time. You’re ruining it.”

Not true. I knew how to have a great time with a woman. Not like this though. And no way would I let Lacey make a fool of herself anymore than she already had.

“Are you kidding me? You had a ton of fun from what I heard. Hell, you closed the bar down. Now it’s time to go home.” I appeased her, and put her inside of Betty. I grabbed the seatbelt, but she yanked it from me.

“Stop. I can do this myself. I’ve been fine on my own. All by myself,” she complained, tugging the seat belt over and over but it wouldn’t budge. On the fourth tug she yanked the entire belt mechanism clear off of the frame. She gasped, holding it up the blue belt and silver clasp in front of her. “Oh no. I hurt Betsy. I’m so sorry Hudson. I didn’t mean to,” her words ran out in slurred, shaky cries.

“It’s fine. Nothing I can’t fix,” I griped and pulled the belt from her hand, setting it on the floorboard. Just another thing to add to my list of things to do.

She hunched over, her face in her hands. “I’m a mess. All alone. I miss Mom and Carson. I have no one…” She blubbered on, the alcohol talking for her.

Now I was upset. I shoved away and paced, running a hand through my hair.

“You gotme,Lace. Jesus, if you’d just open your beautiful eyes and realize I’ve been here the entire time. But you don’t want me. I’m older than you, and you probably don’t even think I’m anything to look at. Carson was always the “cute one” you could never see past. I’m grumpy and fight fires for a living. Hell, you probably think I could never even measure up to those men in suits and penthouses back in the city that you’ve been dating?—”

Lacey suddenly fell over sideways onto the seat, passed out. My shoulders drooped. Even if she heard any of that, she’d probably forget every word by morning.