Page 2 of Riding the Line (Willow Ridge #2)

Cherry

Present Day

I never thought something as insignificant and small as a drawing on a napkin could make me smile so much.

I can’t stop the silly grin that spreads through my cheeks as I admire the rough sketch of me.

Black pen strokes follow the curve of my body and my flowing hair as I lean across the table, while the neon light from the sign hanging above the glass shelves of liquor behind me casts a sultry red glow over the drawing.

I imagine Duke as he was sketching me – dark eyes roving over every inch of my body, taking note of each line and contour of my figure under the red mood lighting, committing them to memory.

But deep down, I know it’s just a product of bartender boredom. He’s always scribbling on napkins, even if he doesn’t let me see what sketch has distracted him. A girl can only dream that she’s so special—

‘Earth to Cherry!’ Montana – my best friend – shouts, ripping me from my childish daydream.

My attention whips up over the bar to where she’s standing amongst the mismatched wooden tables, waving at me with a cloth in her hand.

Levi – the other bartender who’s also helping us close up Duke’s bar tonight – gives me a quick, closed-lip smile from where he’s been wiping down the red leather seats in the booths.

‘Sorry.’ I quickly fold up the napkin and pocket it in my jeans. As I round the dark wooden bar, I swipe up the cloth I was supposed to be using and start wiping down the top. ‘What’s up?’

‘It’s your turn, girl,’ Montana relays, her eyes brightening with anticipation. ‘Truth or dare?’

Right, we’re still playing this game – Montana’s attempt to make closing time feel a little less of a drag tonight.

It’s a stark difference to the closing argument game I usually play with our boss, Duke, to pass the time.

I make a mental note that it’s my turn to pick the next debate for Monday night.

I sigh, ‘Truth.’

Montana and Levi both groan in response, before Montana skips up to the bar, pinning me with her critical stare.

I know exactly what’s coming when she raises her brows – the exact same look she usually gives me before convincing me to come out to whatever house party or club I’d decided against going to.

The same look she’s been giving me since we became best friends on the first day of high school.

‘Oh, come on, Cherry. You always pick truth – it’s getting boring now. There’s only so many times I can hear about the two guys you’ve slept with.’

‘Hey, that’s one more than last year. It’s an improvement.’ I attempt to deter her with an innocent smile. Montana doesn’t need to know that said encounter was a bit too quick and awkward, and just meant I ended up using my vibrator when I got home to finish myself off.

She doesn’t budge, just folds her arms.

I can’t help but smile at her strong will.

The same strong will that had her standing by my side throughout high school, even as my seizures and constant doctor’s appointments had me missing too many classes and other friends withdrew, not willing to wait up for me.

Even miles apart when I’m at college studying interior design, that friendship holds, and once I’m back working at the bar during school breaks, we pick it right up where we left off.

‘Besides, maybe I don’t want to make a fool out of myself, like some people.’ I wave my hand down her front to emphasise the stain on her dress as a result of Levi daring her to chug a drink in five seconds.

Montana grins, as if somehow proud of the mess.

She leans an elbow against the bar to blink her big chestnut eyes at me.

‘Okay, but you’re the one who’s been going on and on since you’ve been back home about wanting to do more crazy things before you graduate.

I didn’t make that bucket list to help you step out of your comfort zone for no reason, girl. ’

I chew on my lip, because that bucket list is still sitting in my bag, waiting for me to stop ignoring it and start ticking things off – like getting tattoos together.

Montana settles a hand on my shoulder. ‘Choosing truth all the time ain’t gonna make you feel more confident, Cherry. I’m just trying to help.’

Neither is always choosing dare, necessarily.

It’s not my fault that seven minutes in heaven intensified during my teen years and no longer meant giggling awkwardly in a closet together before returning to your friends blushing.

Instead, you’re running out of the bathroom at your friends’ party at seventeen, cheeks flaming, because you froze when one of the guys from the football team tried to stick his tongue in your mouth.

And I’d just gotten over the humiliation of halting the final football game of the season after my brain decided that would be a great time to have a seizure in front of the whole high school and their families.

Though, I suppose had I been allowed to go to more parties and had those awkward encounters growing up, I might not have freaked out so much when I got dared to make out with Jonny Miller at Montana’s party …

Nor would I have probably knocked over that tray of drinks last summer when one of my friend Sawyer’s bull-riding associates tried hitting on me.

I don’t know if it was his wicked smile or the fact he called me darlin’ – either way my limbs were stunned and the drinks went flying.

It was that or word vomit and shouting any sports facts I can think of, which is the usual extent of my flirting abilities.

I’m not like Montana, with overflowing confidence and sass built from years of dating through high school.

My two older brothers, Wyatt and Hunter, made sure of that too, letting most of the boys at high school know that I was off limits unless they wanted to chance their wrath too.

Or perhaps it’s because the only guy I’ve ever found myself wanting basically treats me like a little sister, and makes all other guys seem … bland.

Whoever said unrequited feelings were a bitch, hit the nail on the head.

But I’m working on it. And Montana knows my awkwardness around the opposite sex is part of the reason I’m so intent on building my confidence this year before I graduate and get a job at an interior design firm.

I want to be able to utter more than a single sentence when I look at a man and have more experiences than the years spent at home fearing my epilepsy.

So I’m not forever destined to be the toned-down version of me I relegated myself to as a teen.

It’s why I asked her to help make that bucket list.

‘Fine!’ I shake my head, laughing, and throw the cloth down. Montana grins wildly, clearly satisfied with how easily she’s convinced me. ‘I pick dare. Do your worst.’

She giggles and pretends to stroke her invisible beard. Her face crumples in deliberation before zapping to light with what I know is going to be the cause of terrible regret for me.

‘Ooh, I’ve got it!’ She beams, the fairy lights along the rafters in the bar twinkling in her eager eyes. ‘Give Levi a lap dance.’

My eyes immediately snap over to Levi, who freezes midway through rearranging some chairs.

His face pales, but I doubt his heart is beating as fast as mine – like hooves pounding against dirt.

Levi shoves the chair he’s holding under the table.

‘Montana, that’s just weird. You can’t make Cherry do that. ’

Montana pouts, moaning, ‘You’re no fun, Levi!’

He holds up his hands. ‘Just trying to be respectful.’

In all honesty, he probably wouldn’t be the worst guy to give a lap dance to – he’s reasonably attractive, with golden skin and copper hair, and is a good few inches taller than me, which as a girl of five-foot-nine isn’t always the easiest to find.

But I’ve never seen him as anything more than a co-worker, and I’d rather not be so embarrassed I can’t ever work the same shift as him again.

‘Fine,’ Montana huffs, twirling her brunette hair in contemplation, before a feline smirk settles on her face. ‘You can give me a lap dance instead.’

Levi snorts and I shoot him a look. ‘Not going to protest against that one, huh?’

He shrugs, failing to hide the smug grin dancing on his lips. ‘Wouldn’t be the worst thing to watch.’

‘Exactly!’ Montana squeals and grabs my hands, dragging me over to one of the tables.

As we approach, Levi swivels out a chair, gesturing for us both. I offer him a saccharine smile. Montana plonks herself in the chair, letting go of my hands as she says, ‘Choose a good song, something sexy.’

This really was not how I expected my night to go.

I gulp down a calming breath before whipping out my phone from my pocket, the napkin accidentally coming with it. Even though I know it means nothing, I lie to myself that Duke must think I’m captivating enough to ignore his work for, that I’m so distracting he just had to stop and draw me.

Like I’m his muse.

As opposed to just his best friend’s little sister.

I shove the drawing back in my pocket and scroll through the playlist I usually save for when I’m alone in bed, eventually choosing ‘Worst Way’ by Riley Green.

Montana’s face lights up when the song starts. ‘Make me proud.’

I try to ignore the fact that Levi’s watching as I school my features into something more serious, keeping my eyes on Montana. When the lyrics start, I slowly walk towards her, trailing my fingers along her shoulders and neck as I circle the chair.

I’ve danced with Montana at parties before, our hands roaming each other’s bodies, both tipsy and lost in the music, not caring about who was watching.

This doesn’t have to be any different. I close my eyes and let my mind drift off into the beat of the music, dropping into that primal part of me that wants to feel the heat of another pressed against me.

When I’m back at her front, I bend over, showing off my ass, which Montana responds to with a loud cheer.

Flipping my hair over one shoulder, I bring myself back up to a stand, purposefully dragging out the movement for an achingly long time.

She pats me on the ass with a giggle and I fail to suppress my smile as I pivot.

Settling my arms over her shoulders, I straddle her lap.

Her warmth seeps into me and I try to imagine I’m a few drinks in, letting myself grind against her in time with the music.

My chest presses against hers and her hot breath flows across my skin as she laughs.

I’m half expecting her to pull out some dollars and shove them down my top with the way she seems to be enjoying it so much.

My body loosens even more, and before I know it, I’m flipping around again, ass still in her lap as I lean over, continuing to roll my hips against her.

I’m so lost in the way the music waves through me, dropping deeper into the euphoria of it, almost forgetting that we’re in the middle of an empty bar.

I must miss the sound of the locks going and the door swinging open, because when I flick my hair back up, biting my lip, I suddenly lock eyes with the man standing in the doorway.

My boss.

My brother’s best friend.

Duke Bennett.