Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(52)

It was damned unfortunate his pedestal was so high.

“Sure, why not,” I said, marveling at how unaffected I sounded.

He nodded, a small crinkle forming between his eyebrows, and started with the names. My sober brain was too busy worrying about the layout than the names, however, so I didn’t pay much attention until it came to Adam, which I greeted with a smile and a wink since I knew him.

He returned my smile. He looked all clean and pretty, too. In fact, all these guys were lookers. Each a different size and stature, and none so well built as William or Adam, or so huge as Moose, but all would turn my head if I saw them walking down the street.

“Well, make yourselves comfortable,” William finished, turning to me but sparing a glance for Randall.

“Thank you, garçon,” I waved him away like I was rich and he a servant.

He leaned back with a delighted laugh, watching as I escaped with Randall in tow. I needed to stay the hell away from him.

As I settled Randall on a small square, pleather stool, Adam walked over, which surprised me because I didn’t think he was much of a talker. He must’ve felt closer to me after...

“Howdy Jess!” Adam said, taking a stool across from me and a too close Randall.

“Hey Adam. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. You?” He emphasized the "you" in such a way that I knew he was asking about the last time we saw each other.

I glanced at Randall in a, hopefully, subtle signal for Adam to shut it, and said, “Really well, actually. Randall and I are just done with dinner and looking for shenanigans.”

Adam glanced at Randall then back at me. “I hope you gonna show us some of yer California moves tonight!”

“Californian moves don’t really go with Country music I’m afraid.”

“Nah, don’t reckon they would. Good thing there ain’t gonna be no country. We got us some hipity-hop, or pop, or some damn thing.”

“Well, then, you better clear the dance floor because I am going to Tear. It. Up!”

William took a stool next to Adam, damn him. My stomach did a summersault, making me inwardly groan.

“Do I hear someone has moves? Because I need a little competition.” William took a swig of his beer.

I snorted and looked out, toward the dance floor, which I couldn’t see. “Competition? Honey, you are outside your element here. A little fox trot? Maybe. Country swing? I’ll give you that. Hip hop?” I looked back. “Bitch, please, this is my house!”

Everyone started laughing, including Randall.

William’s eyes twinkled, focused on me like a predator. “Are you challenging me to a dance-off?”

He was great at playing serious; I was having a hard time keeping my face straight. I brought my hands to my h*ps and squared my shoulders, keeping my ankles crossed. I was trying to be tough, not flash them.

In the same stage whisper I said, “Yes. Yes, I think I am...”

Adam stood, hands lifted. “Everyone, we have a dance off!”

Laughter and clapping filled the area. I stood, William shadowing me, Randall confused and forlorn. I’d get to him in a minute. No one was going to try and compete in the dancing circuit on my turf.

I put up my hand for quiet, waiting for most of the guys to gather around. “We have to establish rules. California versus Texas, boys and girls. Such a thing might have been done in the past, but never like this. Never. Like. This.”

The crowd erupted in laughter. I did not tear my eyes away from William. He was having a hard time keeping his face straight.

I continued. “I need rules. I need guidelines. I want to beat this Lone Star boy fair and square!”

William opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but was overshadowed by, “Here’s your order, honey.”

The moment was shattered by the snotty waitress. Adam stepped around William to keep all the guys from reaching hands in, and William started orchestrating delivery, taking the waitress further into our area, and into the middle of the crowd of guys.

I sat back down, letting my knee glance against Randall’s. “Hey Randall, how ya holding up? Wanna join a dance-off?”

He gave me a half-hearted smile. “I never knew in a million years that I would be drinking with Davies. You seem to know him.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. Actually, I met him in the oddest of circumstances.” I gave him a rundown of my artful dive into a stand of dog food. By the end of the story Randall was laughing with me.

“But,” Randall continued, “you seem to know him pretty well, now.”

“Well, I saw him a couple months ago at the rodeo. I met him and his friends there.”

Randall nodded, thoughtful. He was about to say something else when Candace came over with Ty and pulled up a stool. She was all smiles and happiness.

“Hi Randall, again.” She giggled. “Have you been here before?”

“No. I don’t go out much.”

“Oh. In case you missed it, this is Ty.” Candace put her hand on Ty’s knee.

“How’s it be, Randy? Glad you could join us.” Ty shook Randall’s hand.

“It’s Randall—I don’t really like being called Randy.”

Ty’s face dropped a little, then went right back to a smile. “No sweat, man. You need a beer?”