In the Dust Read online

  “I have a better idea.” He takes a step closer. “Let’s play teams. Loser buys the next round.”

  I glance at Harper, hoping she’ll tell him to kick rocks, but instead I find her deep in conversation with Jackson. So much for girls' night.

  But Colton’s not dumb. He knows I’m a sucker for competition even if I’m not the best at pool. “One round,” I answer, biting my lip.

  He lets out a deep chuckle, taking another step towards me and closing the gap between us. “Whatever you say, Dixie May.”

  I slide my jean jacket off and set it onto the tall chair next to us as Harper finishes racking the balls. Jackson, being a gentleman, lets her break first. She’s better at this than I am, making it look easy as she pulls the pool stick back, snapping it forward and sending the balls spiraling around the table.

  “Solids!” She walks around the side of the table. “This reminds me of that time we went to that pool hall with Gina.”

  “I think we had more fun there. Better company, I’d say.” I look back at Harper, smirking. “You remember that guy that couldn’t keep his hands off of me?”

  Harper lets out a loud laugh, knowing exactly what I’m doing. “Duh, he was hot as fuck, too. I could never forget a face like that.”

  I mean she’s not lying, he was hot, but I shut it down quickly. Colton doesn’t need to know that, though.

  I sneak a peek at him as he tips the long neck bottle to his lips and takes a swig. He’s trying to act like it doesn’t bother him, but his jaw is clenched as he sets the beer on the table a little too hard.

  It’s finally my turn. I step up to the table and lean forward, pulling the stick back. “You’re doing it all wrong. Let me show you how to properly hold the cue.” Colton leans in before I can even agree.

  He’s so full of himself. I look back at him for a moment before reluctantly making my decision. “Fine.”

  He leans in close, guiding my body forward. “So, is your little boyfriend missing you in New York?” He slides his foot between mine to bump them further apart to widen my stance.

  He’s curious about the mysterious boyfriend of mine. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

  He nods. “How long have y’all been together?”

  I slide on a smile. “Six months.”

  “I see,” he sighs as he releases me, walking over to the table to grab his beer.

  I note the shift in his tone. Is he jealous? “What about you? Are you seeing someone?” I ask.

  “That isn’t the word I’d use, but yeah, I guess I am.”

  I can feel my cheeks reddening. Of course he is. I mean, I figured he would have moved on by now. I have. But that doesn’t explain the slight twinge of jealousy I now seem to be feeling. Not that I’ll admit it.

  “Are things serious with Chad?”

  I scoff, “His name is Brad, and obviously things are serious. We’ve been together long enough.”

  Colton takes a swig of his drink. Setting it back down, he strides over to me, closing the distance between us again. “Six months is nothing.” He leans in, looking me straight in the eyes and whispering, “City boys don’t know how to properly take care of a woman.”

  “He takes care of me, in every way, just fine.”

  His dark brow raises. “Every way?”

  I know what he means. Colton’s the only man I’ve ever been with in that way. But I can’t allow myself to give him the satisfaction.

  When I don’t respond, something devilish flickers in his eyes. “We’ll see about that, Dixie May.”

  “Why don’t you stop worrying about me and focus on your flavor of the week.”

  “I will be tonight,” he responds, winking at me.

  I roll my eyes as I turn to stand by Harper. Jackson is walking back from the bar and stops to hand us our drinks. He exchanges a look with Harper while handing her a Bud Light bottle.

  My eyes shoot to her while she stares at her drink, blushing a deep crimson. After a few seconds, Harper looks at me with a shy smile.

  “Let’s finish this game.” She takes a quick sip of her beer, sets it down, and grabs her cue.

  I need to ask her about that later.

  “You can do it, Dix. Just two more balls,” Harper beams.

  I saunter over to my pool stick, grabbing it and rubbing the white chalk on the end. Bringing it close to my lips, I slowly blow the loose particles off while staring at Colton.

  “Need me to show you one more time?”

  “I think I can manage this one, Colton,” I reply coyly.

  “Let me double check your stance.” He grins as he walks towards me.

  I’m already leaning over the pool table as Colton steps behind me. He places one hand on my hip, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. He slowly leans in beside me, his chest brushing my back as he glides his right hand down my arm, lining the end of the cue up with the solid yellow ball.

  Blinking slowly, I let out a breath trying to focus on the ball and the corner pocket instead of his delicious scent.

  “Dixie?”

  I swiftly turn my head to see who the owner of the voice is. That’s when reality slaps me in the face.

  “Brad?” My eyes widen as I realize Colton is still leaning over me in what looks like an intimate position.

  Well, shit.

  6

  “Hey!” A nervous grin rises on my face as I greet Brad. “What are you doing here?”

  He wraps his arm around me, looking at Colton with a sideways glance. “Well, I wanted to surprise you.” He gives an awkward grin as I finish off my beer.

  He reaches out to shake Harper’s hand. They’ve met a few times when she’s come out to visit me. Then, he introduces himself to Jackson.

  He seems to already be over what looked like me in a compromising position. That’s the thing about Brad; there’s nothing that ignites him. He’s always calm and collected, and no fiery embers ever swirl in his eyes.

  But the way he shakes Colton’s hand with a bit more muscle than he did with Jackson shows a faint hint of rivalry.

  Sometimes I wonder what he’d be like with a little competition to deal with, however, he’s not that kind of guy. He’s safe.

  The kind of man that makes you feel secure.

  “I can’t believe you're here.” I hope he doesn't detect the hint of sadness in my tone, because I can’t explain it myself.

  I look to Colton, who disappears into the crowd. “Yeah, I wanted to surprise you.” Brad shrugs.

  “Well, you sure did!” I grin, lightening the mood. “How was the flight?”

  He nods, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “It was good, I called you when I landed in Atlanta, but I didn’t want you to figure it out.”

  Colton returns, handing me a new bottle of beer. I thank him before returning my attention to Brad. “I’m glad you’re here.” It is pretty cool I’ll get to show him my hometown.

  “Me too, but I’m hungry,” he decides, wrapping his arms around my waist to walk us to the tall tabletop next to the pool game.

  I don’t miss the way Colton watches us. He’s never seen me with anyone else, and I can tell it’s bothering him from the way his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

  “Dixie?”

  Brad’s voice makes me fall back to reality. “Huh?”

  “What kind of food do they have?”

  I pluck the menu from behind the ketchup bottle, handing it to him. “This and that,” I say nervously, knowing he’s never had anything like this.

  His eyes skim the menu. “Is everything fried?”

  A laugh escapes me. “Not the salad,” I joke.

  Colton, Jackson, and Harper all meet us at the table. Colton takes the seat directly across from me, his eyes studying my every movement. It’s like I’m a science project he’s trying to dissect.

  The waitress walks over, her eyes trailing over Brad’s business attire in a bar full of cowboy hats and wranglers. “What can I get for ya, darli
n’?”

  The bar is crowded and loud, so Brad has to raise his voice to a higher octave to be heard. “The cobb salad, light vinaigrette.” He roams the menu for a moment more, his eyes narrowing as he searches for something they probably don’t have. “And a dry martini.”

  Colton tilts his head to the side and nearly spews his beer. I send him a warning glare, and he raises his hands up innocently.

  The waitress gives him a bright smile, holding in a laugh herself. “We don’t carry that.”

  I have to save him, so I say, “He’ll take some wine.”

  “I’ll take the bottle.”

  Awkward silence at the table is drowned out by the roars of people watching the game. Football is big here, and Colton doesn't even notice the silence as he cheers along with everyone else.

  But his attention doesn't stay on the television for long. “So, Brad,” Colton says. His cowboy hat hangs low on his head, the shadow casting over his blue eyes. “How long are you in town?”

  Brad turns to me, a little anxious. “I figured I’d stay for a bit.” He shrugs.

  Colton grits his teeth; he was clearly hoping the response would be just one night. I find myself wishing that too.

  “At my family’s place?” My voice is quieter than it should be. I should be elated. But my family’s never met him. He always seemed to be busy whenever they would come to town. Honestly, I don’t know if he fits in too well staying somewhere that’s so different from the city.

  “At the farm?” he nearly scoffs but stops himself. Brad is a nice guy, but he’s prissy. “No, I rented a summer home on the lake for two weeks.” His eyes pan to Colton. “For me and Dixie.”

  I watch the challenge rise between the men. Brad may be different than the cowboys here, but he’s not clueless. He sees the way Colton looks at me, and I don’t know if it’s the alcohol swimming through me or the nostalgia, but I see it too … and I don’t hate it.

  Stop it, Dixie.

  After Brad downs a few glasses of wine and has his salad, he begins to enjoy himself a little. His body is still tense; this kind of bar is nothing like we go to in the city. In New York, we visit places with a quiet atmosphere and a menu that triples its price for no reason. Not a cowboy bar with dim lighting, beer signs plastered on every wall, and peanut shells littering the floor.

  But I hope he enjoys it because I’ve always loved this place.

  “Who's down for a game?” Harper offers.

  Jackson racks the balls, and I don’t miss the way he bumps shoulders with my best friend … or the way her cheeks heat as he looks at her. Interesting.

  “You ever played?” I nudge Brad, and he shakes his head.

  “In college, a little.”

  Colton slaps a hand on his back. “Well we don’t play it city style.” He winks at me as he grabs a stick. “Here in the south, we do it differently.”

  Oh no, we’re going to get trashed tonight. “Shot pool!” Harper sings.

  “What is shot pool?” Brad wonders as she runs to the bar.

  “Well,” I say with a grin, wondering how interesting tonight will get, “Every ball you make, you drink.”

  He nods, watching with wide eyes as Harper returns with a tray full of tequila shots. “I don’t want to partake.” He shakes his head.

  I groan, “You have to. You came all the way here, didn’t you?” I wiggle my body to the music, showcasing a side of myself that he’s never seen. The real me. “Let’s party!”

  Brad watches as Colton breaks the rack of balls, landing a solid ball into the cup. “Shot!” we shout. But I notice Colton doesn’t take the shot of tequila.

  Then, it’s my turn. We broke it up into guys and girls, and while there’s more of them and just me and Harper, they’re still trying to show each other up. I land a striped ball into a pocket as Harper cheers me on.

  I bring the shot to my lips, throwing it back. It burns my throat; I haven’t done this in so long. And in a point to show how good he knows me, Colton saunters over the jukebox and hits a few buttons. ‘Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off’ starts playing through the speakers, and he looks directly at me. That’s a song between him and I, so this is just for me to remember as he winks at me from beneath his hat.

  Everyone’s getting past the point of tipsy, so it doesn't matter that less shots are being taken as we miss the pockets. We’re already half past gone. Brad’s trying to type in his phone, but it looks like he’s seeing double. Harper’s leaning against Jackson, and Colton’s standing close to me.

  He leans over as everyone’s distracted, his lips dangerously close to my ear. “His hand feels like yours, too soft.” His calloused hands stretch out over my bare shoulder, and it sends tingles down my spine. “What does he do?”

  I flip my hair, knowing he’s going to make fun of him and also a little worried that everyone can see, but no one’s paying attention to us. “Insurance agent.”

  A deep rumble escapes his chest. “Of fucking course he is.”

  The night rolls on, and surprisingly Brad makes a few balls in and takes a few shots. But me, I’m competitive, and that’s why I’m way too drunk right now.

  Brad steps away to use the bathroom, and I can barely stand as I lean back against something firm that smells of hay and smoke. Colton. “Hey there, darlin’.”

  “Nice to see ya,” I respond, a hint of tequila on my breath. These inside jokes are returning me to high school, to middle school. Hell, to elementary school. All those memories filled with him.

  My vision is fuzzy as I stand up to move away from him. He helps me, putting my hands on the table for balance.

  Brad returns, a wobble in his step from the alcohol. “Ready to get out of here?” He jangles his keys.

  Colton’s demeanor shifts into something angry. “You’re not driving.”

  Brad looks at him incredulously. “What? There’s probably like one cop in this town.” He laughs, taking a jab at my small town.

  “That’s not my fucking point.” Colton sneers. “I don’t give a shit if you go to jail, but you’re not putting Dixie in a car with you if you’re drunk.”

  Brad stupidly steps towards him. “I’ll put Dixie wherever I want too.”

  The men are standing in front of each other like statues, ready to tear each other apart. But next to Colton, Brad looks like an angry toddler. Colton’s got over a foot of height on him, and his broad shoulders and sculpted muscles showcase the power that would follow his punch.

  “Dixie!” A voice breaks me from my trance, a sweep of curly blonde hair dancing in front of me. It’s Anabelle, Willow Creek’s pride and joy, a ball of energy and fake smiles. “Dixie May, what in the world are you doin’ here?”

  Her thick accent bleeds through my ears, and I look past her for a moment to check on the guys. Their attention is turned to us, thankfully. “Came to help on the farm for the summer,” I reply with a drunk grin.

  “Oh, but you’re a city girl now.” She laughs. I’ll show you city girl you stupid, evil— “Do you even know how to work on a farm anymore?”

  Like she does? Anabelle Lee Henderson has never in her life had to lift her manicured nails for anything. Her father is the mayor, and her mother owns one of my favorite diners. I don’t know how she came from her parents because she’s nothing like them. They’re sweet, good people, and the longer I look at her the more I remember how cruel she is.

  “I’ll get by just fine, sweetheart,” I chide.

  Brad notices the disdain between us. “Working on a farm can’t be hard.” He grins.

  I nearly slap my palm to my forehead. Why would he say that?

  “Well, at least you have Colty here to help you out.” Her squeaky voice makes my teeth hurt. It’s not that I hate her, but Anabelle is reminding me now of the nightmare doll more than the girl who used to push me down at recess just because she could.

  She turns to Colton, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips to his cheek. She’s sinking her teeth into him,
and I don’t like it. He looks uncomfortable, but he gives her that beautifully perfect grin he always gave me. I dig my nails into my palms.

  I take it back. I do hate her.

  Colton crosses his muscled arms against his chest, sizing Brad up for the hundredth time tonight. “Not too hard, huh?” he asks Brad. “Meet me at the pasture in the morning. I’ll show you what farm work is really like.”

  Brad nods, unfazed. “Bet.”

  “I’m going to smoke,” Colton decides, pulling a pack of reds from his pocket. No one offers to go with him, but I need a moment to breathe.

  Anabelle releases him from her grip, looking up at him with a dramatic pout. “You know I hate that, Colty. It stinks!”

  But he just shrugs and turns to the door. “Who wants to play?” Harper tries to break the awkwardness.

  The moment everyone is distracted and Brad’s attempting to hold the pool stick straight, I slip outside.

  Colton’s back is leaned against the brick wall, with one foot pressed against it. He’s looking up at the stars, exhaling a plume of gray smoke. “Hey, Colty,” I sing.

  “Shut it, Peaches.”

  “I don’t think it stinks, you know.” I don’t know why I offer this information, but I do.

  A crooked smile lightens his features. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

  I want to ask him, how did it come to this? How does us not being together feel like some cosmic wrongdoing? But I don’t, I’m drunk, and this isn't a conversation we ever need to have.

  Then why can’t you stop thinking about him after all this time? I ask myself.

  But his arms look so strong, and I feel so weak that I just want to sink myself into his embrace and stay there. Against my better judgement, that’s exactly what I do.

  He doesn't respond at first, but it takes only a few seconds for his body to relax and his arms to wrap around me the way they always used to. He gives the best hugs, and I haven't experienced one of them in years.