It’s so hard to keep my laugh quiet. Don’t lie, I reply. You were so turned on, weren’t you.
I think Mrs. Carter wanted to crawl in a hole and die. LOL
A fresh wave of missing her hits me, and I stare at our texts. I made the right decision. I know I did. There was no way Roger was going to accept our breakup. He proved that loud and clear; it took the bruises on my upper arms almost two weeks to fade away. It just makes me kinda mad that I had to give up my life to find safety.
Though I have to admit, I’m starting to like Rock Bridge. When I saw Aunt Sylvia earlier while ordering dinner for Smith, she told me to come back anytime and said she’d save me a seat whenever I wanted to visit. That any real friend of Smith’s was a friend of hers.
It’s nice to feel like I’m planting roots.
I hope you took pics, I write Michaela back, then tuck my phone away. We’re allowed to use our cell phones during slow times, but I don’t want to look like a slacker. I need this job and am so fortunate to have found it on short notice.
Felicia and Tawny, two other nurses working the shift with me, stroll over and plop down at the table. They’re both older than me, with Felicia in her thirties and Tawny in her early forties, but they’ve been nice so far. I enjoy shifts with them.
Tawny groans and presses her hands to her lower back, stretching. “Fuck, I’m whomped already, and we still have hours to go before we’re done.”
“Living the glamorous life,” Felicia says with a laugh as she sips on her water.
“No, the glamorous life would include a wealthy husband and a pool boy,” Tawny replies, her toothy grin wide.
We both chuckle.
“I just want a margarita and a bar of chocolate right now,” I say.
They groan.
“That sounds divine,” Tawny says with a nod. “We should make that happen.”
“Foley’s Sports Bar serves the best margaritas I’ve ever had in my entire life,” Felicia says. She pats her dark red hair to make sure it’s still in a bun and eyes us both. “We should go soon and get some.”
“Oh, hell yeah.” Tawny pauses. “I work tomorrow evening and then I’m off Saturday. What about you guys?”
My heart jumps in my throat. I’m actually being asked to join coworkers for a night out. I’m making real friends. Deepening my roots. “I work Saturday morning shift, so that evening would be good for me.”
Felicia wiggles in her chair in excitement. “I’m working Saturday morning too. Sounds like we have a date, bitches.”
“I haven’t been to Foley’s,” I tell them. “Is it good?” I remember the name though. Foley’s was the place Smith told me to go that first night I showed up at Outlaws. Where he said someone like me would be better suited.
“So have you been drinking out of town or something? Because that’s really the only place around,” Tawny says. She scrutinizes her perfectly painted nails.
“I’ve gone to Outlaws.”
Both women stare at me.
“The bar,” I add.
Felicia’s lips quirk. “Oh, we know what Outlaws is, trust me. But it…”
“Isn’t my type of joint,” I say with a laugh. “Yeah, I heard. They have good beer though.”
“And good-looking bartenders.” Tawny waggles her brows. “Those Beckett boys are hell raisers, but I hear they’re wild in the sack.”
I think about the night Smith and I had sex, the way he went down on me in the bathroom. God yes, he’s wild. I wish I knew how wild though.
“No fucking way,” Felicia says in shock, as she sees the look on my face. “You bagged a Beckett? Oh my God, you did!” she practically shouts, pointing at me.
My throat burns, a slow crawl that works its way up my cheeks. “I…” I swallow. “I’m kinda talking to Smith.”
“Sweetheart. No one talks to Smith.” Tawny lays a hand on my shoulder and gives me a sympathetic squeeze. “The Beckett boys are good for one thing. Fucking. Okay, two things—fucking and fighting. But they don’t date anyone, and they sure as hell don’t talk.”
It’s not true, though I don’t bother to correct the women. Smith and I have talked. I’m the new girl, though, so I know I’ll just hear how I don’t know enough yet. It’s like the script writes itself—I can almost predict it.
Tawny sighs and picks up a magazine near her. “I sure wish I could find out how well they are in bed. I’m far too old for them though. I don’t think they’re into cougars.”
Felicia laughs. “Please. I saw the way that guy at Foley’s was hitting on you. Remember him? The black-haired one who barely had enough facial hair to indicate he was out of puberty?”