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“We need to leave now.”
“So go.”
“You and I,” I clarify.
“I’m not going anywhere except somewhere fun, more fun than this place, since you’re here and you’re always stopping my fun. You’re like the fun police.” She smiles at her own stupid joke and continues. “That’s exactly what you are! You’re the fun police. I should really get you a badge made and you can wear it all around—you know, to stop everyone’s fun,” she rambles and bursts into full-on giggles.
Christ, she’s fucking wasted.
“How much did you drink?” I yell over the music. I thought it was going to die down, but apparently the elderly dancers have been goaded into an encore.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. A few, and this one, too.” She takes the cup from my hand before I can stop her, sets it on the table, and hoists herself back onto the chair.
“Don’t drink that. You’re obviously smashed.”
“What’s that sound?” She puts her hand to her ear. “Is that the siren of the fun police I hear? Wah, wah, wah.” For a second she pouts like a child, then laughs. “Go away if you’re going to be a fun-sucker.” Tessa lifts the glass to her mouth and takes three large gulps. She’s swallowed half the drink in seconds.
“You’re going to get sick,” I say.
“Blah, blah, blah,” she mocks, tilting her head back and forth with each word. She looks past me, and a small smirk plays on her lips. “You know Robert, right?”
I look to my side to find the asshole is standing next to me with a drink in each hand.
“Nice to see you again,” Robert says, then half smiles. His eyes are bloodshot. He’s drunk, too.
Did he take advantage of her? Did he kiss her?
I take a deep breath. His father is the sheriff. His father is the sheriff. His father is the sheriff.
His father is the fucking sheriff of this shithole of a town.
I look back at Tessa and say over my shoulder, “Go away.”
Tessa rolls her eyes. I forgot how ballsy she becomes when she has liquor in her veins. “Don’t go,” she says, challenging me, and he sits down at the table. “Don’t you have company to entertain?” she taunts.
“No, I don’t. Let’s go home.” I’m barely controlling my temper. If this were any other night, Robert’s face would be imprinted on the table by now.
“That cabin isn’t home; we’re hours from home.” She finishes off the drink she stole from me. Then she gives me a look that somehow manages to mix loathing, drunk-flippancy, and indifference. “Actually, as of Monday, I don’t have a home anyway, thanks to you.”
Chapter forty-seven
TESSA
Hardin’s nostrils flare as he tries to control his temper. I glance over at Robert, who looks slightly uncomfortable, though not in the least bit intimidated by Hardin.
“If you’re purposely trying to make me angry, it’s working,” Hardin says.
“I’m not, I just don’t want to go.” And right as the music cuts off, I practically yell, “I want to drink and be young and have fun!”
Everyone turns to me. I’m not sure what to do with all the attention, so I awkwardly wave my hand in the air. Someone gives a hoot of approval, and half the bar raises their glasses in salute and then goes back to talking. The music resumes, and Robert laughs. Hardin glowers.
“You’ve obviously had enough to drink,” he says, eyeing the now half-empty glass that Robert brought to me.
“News flash, Hardin: I’m an adult,” I remark in a childish tone.
“Dammit, Tessa.”
“Maybe I should go . . .” Robert stands.
“Obviously,” Hardin replies at the same time that I say “No.”
But then, looking around us, I let out a sigh. As much as I was enjoying my evening with Robert, I know that Hardin will stand here the entire time making rude remarks, threats, whatever he has to do to make him leave. It’s better if he does go.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go and you can stay,” I tell Robert.
He shakes his head with understanding. “No, no—don’t worry about it. I had a long day, anyway.” He’s so calm and easy­going about everything. It’s really refreshing.
“I’ll walk you out,” I tell him. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see him again, and he’s been so kind to me tonight.
“No, you won’t,” Hardin chimes in, but I ignore him and follow Robert toward the door of the small bar. When I look back at the table, Hardin is leaning against it with his eyes closed. I hope he’s taking deep breaths in and out, because I’m in no mood for his crap tonight.
Once we get outside, I turn to Robert. “I really am sorry. I didn’t know he was here. I was just trying to have a fun night.”
Robert smiles and slouches a little to better meet my eyes. “Remember when I said to stop to apologizing for everything?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pad and pen. “I’m not expecting anything, but if someday you’re bored and alone in Seattle, give me a call. Or not. It’s up to you if you want to or not.” He writes something down, then hands it to me.
“Okay.” I don’t want to make any promises that I can’t keep, so I just smile and tuck the small paper into the top of my dress. “Sorry!” I squeak when I realize that I basically just fondled myself in front of him.
“Stop saying sorry!” He laughs. “And especially not for that!” He looks at the entrance to the bar, then out at the dark, dark night. “Well, I better go. It was nice to meet you; maybe we’ll see one another again?”