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Brody and Anna exit the booth long enough to let Poppy out before sliding back in. I watch Poppy head right for the side of the bar not visible to us at the table and then drop my gaze.

I feel bad that this has upset Bryce so much, but she could have turned my brother down. Something tells me that Bryce isn’t one to fall under the trap of peer pressure.

So why didn’t she just say no?

5

BRYCE

I’mthree vodka shots deep by the time I feel Poppy slide onto the stool beside me at the bar. I wave at the bartender who took over for Vic’s mom for the night for a fourth before facing my best friend.

She’s watching with a soft, concern-lined expression, and I huff at her. “Whatever you’re planning on saying, don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” she lies.

“And I wasn’t about to have another shot.”

The bartender slides another glass across the counter, and I take it, shooting it back without a flinch. It burns like a motherfucker, but that’s the best part. He chuckles at my eagerness, and I glare at him.

“Can I get a water, please?” Poppy asks before he disappears.

“’Course.”

I tap my black-painted nails on the bar, leaning my body weight against it. “Water?”

“For you, asshole.”

“I don’t want water.”

“And I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow with a hangover from hell, but here we are.”

“I’ll keep my complaining to myself.”

She sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder to spin me around, bringing us face to face. “I’m sorry I offered your room. Is that why you’re like this right now?”

“She could have stayed in the guest house. You’re hardly there.”

It’s the place she and Garrison stay at when they’re in town on the weekends. But recently, they haven’t been staying on the ranch long enough to use it. Not with Mr. Fancy Pants CEO whisking her all over the world on these endless fucking trips of theirs.

She scrunches her brows, frowning. “Are you mad at me?”

I spot the brown hair of the bartender and shout, “Can I have a bottle?”

“Of water!” Poppy adds.

Pinning her beneath a harsh glare, I try to shake her hand off my shoulder. “Don’t mother me right now. I can handle my liquor.”

“I know that. I’ve been drinking with you since we were fourteen, sneaking pink Sour Puss into my parents’ garage. This isn’t about that.”

The mention of the watermelon-flavoured poison rolls my stomach. Bartender #2 hands her a glass of water, and she pushes it directly in front of me before I can tell him to dump it somewhere.

Eyes zoned into me and the glass of water I haven’t moved to grab yet, she doesn’t look away until I’ve lifted it to my mouth and drank it. It’s not the taste I’m searching for, and before she can mother me again, I order another shot.

“You want to talk about this, Poppy? You can wait. I’m not interested right now.”

“What exactly do you think I’m wanting to talk about, though? Your feelings about me not using the guest house enough or the fact I didn’t suggest it to Daisy? Because if it’s option number one, then you’re right about not getting into it here and now. But option two? That’s something I’m curiousenough about now to dig into. You heard her just as well as I did. She isn’t interested in staying on Steele Ranch, and last time I checked, the guest house was smack dab in the middle of it.”

“It’s nicer than my place,” I mutter, ignoring everything else she’s said.