Never is a Promise(33)

“Ready?” I handed the ladies their shots and sprinkled salt on the tops of their hands.

Salt. Shoot. Suck.

Dakota slammed her glass down on the bar and slapped her hand down, her face puckered and pinched from the tart lime.

“One more,” Dakota said, motioning toward Waylon.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Waylon said as he readied another round.

Dakota’s shoulders relaxed a bit and her face unstiffened.

“I don’t know if I should be offended that you need to drink to have fun around me or happy that you’re finally loosening up,” I said.

“I’m just trying to have a good time,” she said. “Don’t read anything into it.”

We’d spent the whole morning fishing with the kids before Ivy’d come to get them. That afternoon, I’d made Dakota a late lunch of tuna salad on white with potato chips as we sat in the rocking chairs on the porch mostly in silence. She hadn’t asked me a single question, and I hadn’t offered anything other than my company as she seemed to spend most of the day lost in thought.

The familiar deep rift of one of my older hits blasted from the speakers.

“Aw, Beau!” Waylon said with a proud grin. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Tailor Made,” Ivy said, bumping into me as my own familiar voice began rumbling and twanging over the music.

“Is this you?” Dakota asked, tilting her head toward the speaker. “It is.”

“My first platinum hit,” I said with an air of bittersweet melancholy, recalling how fantastic yet disappointing it was to hear the big news that day. I’d achieved something most people only ever dreamed of, yet I had no one to share it with – which was my own damn fault. “This song was about you, Kota.”

She whipped her eyes in my direction, and I nodded, watching as she pretended not to be listening intently.

“Waylon, can I get a beer?” I called out before leaning into her. “All my songs were about you, Kota. How could they not be?”

The jingle of the bells hanging on the door ushered our attention to the right, where a petite little platinum blonde with a mouth-gaping grin ran straight in our direction.

“Dakota Andrews,” she said, beaming as she spread her arms wide. Dakota met her hug with a smile.

“Annelise,” Dakota said, looking her up and down. They’d been best friends all through high school, and something told me they’d lost touch shortly after that. “How are you?”

“I ran into Ivy earlier today. She told me you were in town,” Annelise said, her eyes sparkling. “I just had to come down here and see you.” Annelise turned toward me, leaning across Dakota and smacking me playfully on the arm. “And Beau. Gosh, it’s been too long, you guys. This feels just like old times – Dakota Andrews and Beau Mason.”

Dakota tossed back her tequila, skipping the salt and lime that time and slamming the glass on the bar. “Will you excuse me for just a moment?”

She hopped down from the stool and headed back toward the restroom, emerging moments later. As I nursed my beer, I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, standing in the back and chit-chatting with Billy Loeffler.

“Oh, look,” Ivy said with a chuckle. “Billy’s trying to sink his meat hooks into Dakota.”

My jaw set as my gaze darted in their direction. A flash of jealousy heated my body as I pulled in a slow breath. I watched from afar as Dakota smiled at him, leaning in as he placed his hand on her arm. But when he leaned in to whisper something in her ear, that’s when I snapped.

“Don’t do it, Beau,” Ivy muttered under her breath. I had a jealous streak a mile wide, especially when it came to watching the woman I loved smile like that at fucking Billy Loeffler.

I stood up and worked my way to where they stood in the back of the bar. “Hey, guys. Billy, how’s it going?”

Billy strategically leaned in closer to Dakota, edging me out.

Wrong move, asshole.

I placed my hand on the small of Dakota’s back before gripping a fistful of her shirt and pulling her my way.

“So, anyway, you want to get dinner some night this week while you’re in town?” Billy asked her, ignoring my territorial stance. “It’d be great to catch up.”

“Oh, um.” Dakota turned to me.

“She’s busy.” I took her hand, lacing her fingers into mine, and steered her back toward the bar.

“Hey,” she said, jerking her hand out of mine when we got back to our seats. “What was that for?”

“You’ve got no business associating with Billy.” I hunched over the bar and pulled my beer closer. “He hasn’t changed a lick since we were younger.”