“I’m just wondering when you’re finally going to accept the fact that you belong together?” His hand draws his glass back up to his lips.
I shake my head at him, seething with irritation. “You make it sound like we’re living back in the days where daughters’ hands were handed down in business arrangements, complete with dowries.”
“Nonsense. I just know compatibility when I see it.”
“Well, maybe you need to get your eyes checked then.”
“Sydney, Andrew and his family can offer you the same type of security that I can. And he’s voiced his interest in you countless times. He’s the type of man you should be looking for. It’s time for you to start thinking about your future.”
“Boy. What an archaic way of telling me that I’m not getting any younger.” I cringe as a boulder of unrelenting defeat rests in my stomach. This same issue has been clouding every interaction with my father lately. And while deep down I want to believe that a part of him just wants me to be taken care of, another part aches for him to see that I’m capable of doing this, or anything really, on my own.
Our waiter comes back to the table, volleying his eyes between the two of us, taking in the palpable tension. “Are we ready to order?”
I stand and remove my napkin from my lap, placing it calmly on the table even though my true desire is to throw it down. “I’m no longer hungry.”
“Sydney …” my father warns, as we participate in a silent stare-off.
“I need to get back to work. Next time you decide to surprise me, make sure it’s worth my time. I love you, Dad … but this manipulation tactic is getting old. I will be taking classes at Elite, and if it makes you feel better, you can have your team follow me every minute of the day. They can track my pee schedule and when I brush my teeth for all I care. But I’m standing firm on this. And most importantly, stop trying to push Andrew on me.”
I turn on my heel, lift my chin high in the air, and stride out of the restaurant as sweat drips down my back, ruminating on the fact that I stood up to my father in a public setting and I know it was the least appropriate time to do so. But I’ll be damned if I listen to his old-fashioned values and suggestive control anymore. There will surely be consequences from my actions, but I can’t think about that right now. As my ankles threaten to buckle on each step to my car, the shakiness of my hands subsides once I grip my steering wheel and crank the engine, returning to my office to do the job that I was born to do.
Chapter 4
Javier
“Jesus Christ. What the fuck did you bring me to?” My eyes scour the room as I take it all in, trying to avoid a brain aneurysm from the flashing lights and country music blaring through the speakers.
The old, open air barn has been converted into one of the biggest displays of country culture I have ever seen, and I can’t decide if I fucking hate it, or it’s one of the most genius ideas ever and I’m pissed I didn’t come up with it.
As we step through the doors after our IDs were checked and hands were stamped, we’re immediately greeted by a long, wooden bar where twenty-something girls in cut-off shorts and equally small tops run around filling drink orders left and right, the sound of cash drawers slamming ring out over the music. And as far as the eye can see, other bars line walls and glossy wooden dance floors where cowboy boots scuff the ground as couples spin and two-step along to the beat.
Steel beams are exposed in the ceiling accompanied by HVAC ducts blowing stark cold air conditioning in the room to combat the Texas humidity outside. The walls are covered in ship-lap, giving that country feel to the 100,000 square-foot space. To the left of the entrance is the gate that opens up to the bull riding arena. Yes, there is a fucking bull riding arena in this bar, and right behind that is the tunnel that leads to the full restaurant, serving up authentic Texas barbeque.
“Now this is just what we needed!” Selena squeals as she threads her arm through her friend, Claudia’s, and they descend the small flight of stairs to reach the main floor. The four of us remain close as we weave through the crowd and make our way to a bar on the right side of the room. Neon signs flash and hover from the ceiling, directing you to different areas of ‘the world’s largest honky tonk’, or for me, my worst fucking nightmare.
“This definitely isn’t what I needed,” I mutter in her ear as we take up residence along a bar, waiting for a server to acknowledge us.
Selena turns around and shoots me a sour glare. “Yes you did. Look, I know this isn’t your typical scene …” she says and I scoff sarcastically. “But we’re here to let loose and get out of the house. So relax, big brother, and at least admire the eye-candy,” she teases as a short, Latina woman struts by us in shorts that barely cover her ass and long black hair that is practically kissing her butt cheeks as well, her eyes landing on mine as a shit-eating grin spreads across her lips.
I throw my chin in her direction with a smolder I reserve for the ladies before she turns back around and continues to walk away from me, but I take the moment to memorize her ass in case we run into each other again.
“See? Plenty of ass to keep you occupied.” She swats my chest playfully as the bartender comes over and takes our order. As I declared earlier in the week, I will not be drinking tonight. The
