I spin around to see who’s calling my name, and I’m shocked to find Beckham getting out of his truck. “Beckham,” my mouth curls in a friendly smile, “what are you doing here?”
He strides over to us, engulfing my thin frame in a tight embrace. “I think that’s the question for you. I thought you didn’t do the bar scene, or was that just your excuse for ending our date early?” His tone is a teasing one as he releases me and playfully tugs on one of my curls.
“No, I still don’t drink, smartass,” I retort, poking him in the abs. “We’re stopping by to see a friend who works here. Oh, you remember my sister, Dakota, right?”
He extends his hand to her as his head bobs up and down. “Of course, I never forget a beautiful girl. It’s nice to see you again, Dakota.” Then, he turns his attention back to me and says, “This is the place where I told you my cousin works. I haven’t been by in a couple of weeks, because of midterms, and I figured I earned a night off. Have you been here before?”
Shaking our heads, Beckham holds the door open for us, and we trade the frigid parking lot for the warm exuberance of the crowded bar. He ushers us inside the warm, lively pub, and I shrug my coat off, handing it to the guy at the door, who greets Beckham with some weird guy handshake. Beckham introduces us, but I don’t catch his name, because I immediately begin to scan the room, looking for Crew, not wanting him to get the wrong idea about Beckham and me walking in together.
The first thing I notice is how crowded the place is. I can barely see the tables, let alone the bar, with not one single stool left unoccupied, and every single person is attractive—like as in a beer commercial attractive. Laughter fills the air from the standing-room waiting area, and the sea of attractiveness overwhelms me. I say a silent prayer of thanks to Cheyenne for dolling me up, because the waitresses’ sleek midriffs are seriously intimidating. Loud music from the jukebox reverberates through the space, and many of the people can’t help themselves from either tapping their feet or swaying their hips to the contagious beat.
“That’s my cousin right over there. Her name is Tasha. The one in the red and blue plaid.” Beckham points across the room as we loiter just inside the door, unable to move much due to the throng of bodies in our way.
Following his finger, I catch a glimpse of the busty redhead leaning over the bar, who is about to spill out of her knotted flannel halter. She’s laughing and reaching for a drink from the bartender, who’s playing a game of keep-away with her, prompting a little more cleavage to be revealed with each stretch of her arm.
I smile as I follow her outstretched arm, curious to see if her game is working on her target. And it looks like it is. Feeling the grin on my face morph into shock as I see Crew dangle the glass from his hand, two inches from blood-red nails, I realize I was wrong. Crew doesn’t look like he needs cheered up at all. In fact, he looks downright thrilled to play games with his hot, half-naked coworker. Maybe he likes her flavor too…
Wanting nothing more than to get out of here as quickly as possible, I move to turn around, but Dakota catches my arm and yanks me close to her side. “Don’t you even think about it,” she whispers harshly. “You’re gonna march your ass over there and claim your man in front of Tits McGee and all of her clones. Don’t let her intimidate you. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
Beckham is already halfway across the floor, but as soon as he realizes we aren’t right behind him, he stops and waits for us to catch up. Not seeing any way out of it, I trudge ahead through the crowd with my sister on my heels, feeling nauseous the entire way.
“Hey, cuz, come over here!” Beckham calls out, getting his cousin’s attention. “I want to introduce you to Hudson, the girl from school I’ve told you about, and her sister, Dakota.”
Tasha prances over to us with a fake smile plastered on her face, first hugging Beckham, and then shaking mine and Dakota’s hands. “So, you’re the weed girl. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says to me in the phoniest voice I’ve ever heard, making no effort to hide her judgmental gaze roaming down the length my body. “Why don’t y’all follow me to the bar? I’ll get my man to hook you up with your first round.”
Her man?! What the serious fuck?
Knowing damn well I’m about to lose my shit on this bimbo, Dakota squeezes my hand and shakes her head, which only pisses me off even more. I decide to play along with the charade, now wondering more than ever how Crew is going to react when he sees us. Silently, I pray he doesn’t disappoint me. I know we’re a long way from being in love or any of that shit, and it has nothing to do with me giving him my virginity; I just really thought we had the start of something good…something special.
“Crew, baby!” she yells over the music to get his attention, her boobs jiggling with every word. “Can you get my cousin and his friends their first round on the house?”
“Anything for you, T,” he hollers back, while grabbing a beer from the cooler for another customer. “Gimme one sec.”
With a lighthearted smirk playing on his lips, he spins around to face our small group huddled at the end of the bar, and the minute his eyes meets mine, all of the color drains from his face.
Obviously confused, he strides toward us and asks, “Hudson? What are you doing here?” Then, his attention swings back and forth between Dakota and Beckham. “Are you with both of them?”
Offering what I know is a poor excuse for a smile, I shake my head. “No, Kota and I came to surprise you. Beckham was just pulling up in the parking lot at the same time we were. He came to see his cousin, Tasha,” I glance over at her listening intently to our conversation, “who you obviously know quite well.”
“Wait,” she interrupts, clearly irritated as she snarls her upper lip. “How do you two know each other?”
I stare at Crew, waiting for him to answer the question, while my stomach lurches high into the back of my throat. His Adam’s apple bobs wildly as he swallows, holding my eyes with his own, both of us realizing the magnitude of this moment.
“Hudson’s my girl.”
Tonight fucking blows. I dodged one bullet with my honest, yet hesitant, answer to the question about who Hudson is to me, but based on the fiery look in Tasha’s eyes ever since, another battle is just getting started.
As if her usual boobs-in-my-face, seductively biting her lip act isn’t enough, she’s laying it on thick now—for Hudson’s benefit, I’m sure. She’s suddenly become the clumsiest damn cocktail waitress in the world. First, her pen magically rolls out of her fingers and over the bar, which means she needs to come search for it on the ground, on her hands and knees in front of me, of course. Then, she accidentally slips down at the register and asks me to help her up, rubbing her tits up the length of my body as she stands and teases that she may need an ass massage later.
It’s not like I can tell her no, or call her out in front of a crowd of customers and look like a complete dick. So I piss my girl off instead. ‘Cause, you know, that’s always fun.
Hudson isn’t helping matters either, with the daggers she keeps throwing my way. What the fuck? It’s not like I’m waving dollar bills at Tasha, encouraging her. I’m a bartender. I get drinks for waitresses. Yes, they’re half-dressed, and no, she didn’t know that, but still. I’m sure she thought she was being sweet by showing up unannounced, but between the heat from Tasha and the ice from Hudson, I just want them all to go away. Can’t they let me do my damn job in fucking peace?
And Tasha—she’s not the brightest crayon in the box, but she’s smart enough to know what her best assets are. I just wish she wasn’t trying to shove them down my throat tonight, and that she’d find someone else to set her sights on. I know I can’t be blatantly rude after what Rory told me about her influence around here, but I’m not sure how to get it through her oblivious head.