“Have not,” I retort.
“He needs more from you.”
I furrow my brow. “Absolutely not. He made that clear.”
Josey blows a puff of air through her pursed lips. “You can help each other.”
“With orgasms, maybe.”
“Now you’re thinking.”
“Right, but that’s the extent.”
“No way. You’re both in need of healing. Very different varieties, but that will work for your benefit. He seems to have a knack for rescuing you, right?”
Here she goes again. My romantic bestie is up on her soapbox. She has her chin resting on an open palm, a dreamy glint in her gaze. More than anything, I want her to find someone. No one deserves a happily ever after more than her. I hate to disappoint her, especially when she’s nearly bubbling over with glee.
It would be easy enough to offer myself on a silver platter to the brash asshole for another round. The fire still racing through my veins couldn’t agree more. But the possibility of temporary pleasure isn’t worth the risk of my heart or my pride. “It’s not going further with Ford. He’s too surly with an extra scoop of jaded.” I release a sharp exhale. “Guess we have that in common.”
Josey whistles. “You haven’t met his brother. Hot damn.”
She earns an exaggerated eye roll for that. “I can’t imagine anyone being sexier than Ford.”
“To you, maybe. Grant is just…yum. I’m just sad he left Silo Springs.”
“Why did he?”
“There’s some family drama.” She buttons her lips. “That’s not my story to tell.”
There’s almost nothing worse than getting teased with the idea of getting the inside intel, only to have it snatched away. But what do I want that information for? I stow any hint of interest from my expression. “I’m all too familiar with that.”
Josey’s grin trembles ever so slightly at the corners. “Life is messy, Keke. That doesn’t make it any less beautiful.”
“No truer words, bae.”
“Speaking is the truth.” The sparkle returns to her eyes. “Does Millie know about your adult slumber party?”
I lift the mug to my lips, very thankful I hadn’t taken a sip. “You better be joking with that question.”
“Don’t fault me for trying to lighten the mood.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I giggle and resume my attempts at getting work done. “Keep the entertainment coming. Unlike a certain someone, I enjoy the company of others.”
Healing Hug #14: A little self-love goes at least halfway.
The prodding in my skull doesn’t give me a moment’s rest. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Snarky wit that gets me harder than steel. But to be fair, everything about Keegan makes my dick twitch. Her bewitching spell is precisely why I find myself parking in a rear lot off Main Street.
The slap of my boots bounces off the brick walls as I stride through the shadowed alley. A streak of sun pours across my back, the unrelenting rays finding me regardless of where I try to hide. It seems the elements of nature, along with a few select individuals, are also conspiring against me to lighten up.
I straighten my shoulders and continue stalking forward, shoving those idiotic thoughts away. The weather is warm and bright. My mood just happens to be the polar opposite. What else is fucking new? This is a regular afternoon in June. No one is forcing me to change my ways or be more visible in town. These decisions are my own. I’m allowed to drop into a bar for a beer. That’s a normal thing to do. But who the hell am I trying to convince?
The desire to be better is driving me faster than before. These needs are chasing me, hounding me with relentless efforts. The familiar path I’m on led me to a very different place two weeks ago. I reach the sidewalk and hang a right. The opposite direction offers a collection of memories that I’ve been trying to erase from existence. That’s an impossible task, especially when a coil tightens in my gut just being in close proximity.
I’m staying the fuck away from Bronco Buck indefinitely, but there’s another bar on this same street that calls to me. It’s a safe spot where I’m guaranteed to be left alone, for the most part. The patrons at Howlers aren’t known for idle chatter or being overly social. I can blend in with the throng without trying. Misfits and outcasts. Bikers and guys from the worst side of the tracks. They find solace in the rundown tavern. I couldn’t ask for a better establishment to escape in.
The thrum of midday traffic vibrates the ground beneath my feet. I dodge a puddle on the cobbled concrete, a sure sign that Wyoming isn’t just blue skies and rainbows. A thick sigh whizzes off my lips when a neon sign flashes at me from the end of this block. That familiar beacon hauls me in, offering a sense of security I would never admit to wanting.
Being isolated at home for days on end remains more grueling as of late. The limited options I’ve managed to entertain myself with in the past have fallen flat. I’ve been leaving more often, for whatever excuses I can create that don’t risk an encounter with a particular breed of wildcat. Running into Keegan would be catastrophic to any semblance of progress I’ve made. A few more weeks, or months, and that woman will be out of my system. I don’t care how fast my heart races at the mere idea of seeing her. Or that my body is strung so damn tight with rampant arousal. There’s no doubt I’m being punished.
I jerk my head in a sharp nod. That’s fitting, and all the more reason to stay on the safe side of town. No way will I risk running into that busty blonde. This afternoon, I’m only looking to enjoy a drink that I don’t have to pour myself. That whole concept of getting shitfaced with a
