He’d been unable to stand seeing Rose happy with someone else.
Frowning, anxious to run, to feel something other than this stabbing helplessness, urged him to move. He needed to get on the road, get driving, and wanted a whiskey—or four. He wanted to get wasted so he’d numb this ache in his chest. He strode to his office, grabbed his wallet, snatched his keys to the Beast off a hook, and killed the lights inside as he swiped his Stetson and locked his door to jog down the steps and climb up in the driver’s seat.
He roared the Beast around the drive and kicked out onto the long drive leading to the main road. Out his left, he could see the lights around the RVs, could see the crew milling about to pack up their extra gear. Instinctively he looked for Rose’s dark curls among the group, but it was too dark for him to distinguish her, and he felt that awful pang squeeze his heart once more. He faced forward and didn’t look at them again.
By the time he reached the outskirts of Alpine, his mind was a mix of competing emotions. His phone buzzed.
“I swear if it’s that girl again—”
Tyler’s name lit up the screen. Thank God.
Tyler:I got some information lined up for your girl’s momma. Sorry it took so long. Been breeding a few heifers, and Seth sprained his ankle in soccer. I emailed you some links to resources. You have a minute to talk?
Toby’s forehead sank to his steering wheel as he idled at a stoplight. “Jeez, I can’t tell him it might already be over. He’ll give me such a load of shit.”
He racked his brain as he pulled out of town. If only Rose would listen to him. But why would she? She’d been played before. She’d already been gun-shy. If he kept pressuring her, he’d only push her farther away. He turned off the street and rolled to a stop, putting the transmission in Park. His chest ached, knowing things might be over when they’d barely gotten started.
He was pushing through the door to Amigo’s before he realized he was even hitting a bar. The drab lighting illuminated the room in a cool, bluish glow. A Bud Light lamp hung over the pool table, the balls racked in the middle, but no one seemed interested in using it right now. Only a few men sat at the bar and a cluster of women sat in a corner booth with a pitcher, along with a smattering of couples at booths around the periphery. The women eyed him as he glanced their way.
One of them flashed him a smile. He ignored it and pulled up at the bar, sitting down a couple stools away from another man who looked over at him and gave a cursory nod, and took his hat off, propping it on his knee.
“Hey, Toby. You got a haircut. What’s the occasion?” the bartender asked as he dried a beer glass, hanging it by the handle on a rack and picking up another wet one to dry.
Toby frowned and raked his fingers over his head self-consciously. Rose and her son had been the occasion. “Just needed one.”
“Looks good, man. What’ll it be tonight?”
“Shot of JD,” Toby replied out of habit.
The man behind the counter nodded and finished drying the glass. He pulled down the bottle of Jack, poured the shot, and slid it across the counter.
Toby picked up the shot, staring at the glass filled with amber liquid. Immediately, he felt his gut rebel. At the thought of the taste, at the thought of how he’d met Rose. How he’d been a hungover wreck that morning after a night where he’d almost had sex with another. He missed her. It seemed silly after only several hours, but it was becoming clear that he missed the idea of them making something more, of him being hers and her being his, her silly quirks, her sexy moves, her pretty eyes, her ambition, the spark of chemistry that flared each moment he felt her presence nearby. It settled in his heart and shrouded it in grief, squeezing, making regular pumping feel strained. He rotated the shot glass around in his fingers, examining it.
How’d he even end up at Amigo’s?
Someone walked up beside him. She had long legs in tight jeans. His eyes trailed up her body. It was the woman from the booth who’d smiled at him. She leaned against the counter suggestively, her chest thrust up a bit, her tank top low-cut, as she caught the bartender’s attention, but he knew she’d really done it for his benefit. Shame washed over him. This whiskey in his hand, this woman trying to hit on him bundled into a bitter reminder that he was falling into old habits. That he was still that screwup. And as he felt the girl next to him turn his way and sidle a little closer, he thought of what he wanted.
He wanted Rose.
But even if he couldn’t have her, he didn’t want this anymore. He’d run away from his problems again like he’d done countless times, hoping to avoid them. He wanted to make his plans for the Legacy a reality, even if it no longer included Rose in the bigger picture. He didn’t want this woman next to him when he’d begun to see the special bond that could be forged between two people. Just the idea of sleeping with someone else to soothe the heartache, after beautiful lovemaking with Rose this evening, made his stomach revolt.
I don’t want anyone else.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He yanked it out, praying it would be Rose. Tyler’s name illuminated the screen, and he felt the split-second hope dashed.
Tyler:You alive, baby bro? You got a minute to talk about your girl’s mom? I’ve got a barn of cows to feed bright and early and gotta hit the hay.
Toby frowned. Tyler would keep hounding him until he gave him a time to talk, and he couldn’t bear to tell his brother what had happened. Leave me alone, Ty.
His thumbs moved over the keypad.
Toby:Can’t talk tonight, but I’ll call you tomorrow.
The reply began to pulse.
Tyler:Suit yourself. I thought you were anxious to figure something out.
Toby:I am. Just dealing with a little issue right now.