Sidecar Crush

“Dang it, I was hoping I could get one,” Cassidy said.

“Same here,” Scarlett said. “I’d wear the shit out of that. Although I swear you’re a foot taller than I am. It’d still be a dress on me.”

“That would barely cover your ass,” Cassidy said.

Scarlett shrugged. “Would still be cute with a pair of boots.”

“Exactly.” I stuck my foot out so we could all ooh and ahh over my cowboy boots.

“So what’s it like, being on TV and all that?” Cassidy asked. “Must be pretty exciting.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but faltered. I wanted to tell her it was amazing. That I was finally so close to living my dream. I wanted to gush about how great my life was. But the words wouldn’t come.

“It’s all right,” I said. “The show wasn’t quite what I thought it would be. But I’m still hopeful that it’ll open some new doors.”

“What’s Brock Winston really like?” Scarlett asked. “He’s such a hunk of man candy. Is he dumb as a rock?”

I laughed. “I’m not really supposed to talk about my castmates. But off the record, kind of, yeah.”

“I knew it,” Scarlett said and took a swig of her beer. “He doesn’t seem like he has much going on upstairs.”

“I was never sure what Maisie Miller saw in him,” Cassidy said. “Did you meet her, too?”

“No,” I said. “She was supposed to be on the show, but she broke her leg and couldn’t be there for filming.”

Scarlett glanced toward the bar, then looked at me. “So, how was lunch with Jameson? We missed y’all at Moonshine.”

My cheeks warmed, and I hoped the light was too dim for anyone to notice. Just the mention of Jameson’s name should not have made me blush. “We decided to take our lunch down to the lake. It was nice.”

“Hmm,” Scarlett said and took another drink.

“Oh, stop hmming,” Cassidy said.

“I think she’s implying that Leah Mae had romantic intentions with regard to Jameson,” June said. “Or possibly the other way around.”

My cheeks flushed hotter.

“I meant nothing of the sort,” Scarlett said with a grin.

“Subtle,” Cassidy said.

“We were just catching up,” I said.

“Good man, Jameson,” Scarlett said. “He may be quiet, but he’s reliable. And have you seen his art? It’s absolutely amazing.”

“I haven’t,” I said. “I was hoping to have time to see his workshop, but I’m not sure if I will.”

“He invited you out to his workshop?” Scarlett asked, her eyes widening.

“Well, sure,” I said. “Is that unusual?”

“I’ve never seen it,” Cassidy said.

“I guess he just likes his privacy,” Scarlett said. “I’ve seen him work, but I hardly count, being his sister and all. You should go visit him, Leah Mae. It’s mighty sweet of him to offer.”

“I’d like to, but—”

I was cut short by a sudden loud commotion near the bar. Scarlett and Cassidy turned around, and I looked over to see what was going on.

“Oh god,” I said and jumped from my seat.

Kelvin was backing away from the bar while two red-faced men in t-shirts that said Bootleg Cock Spurs stalked toward him.

Scarlett gently grabbed my wrist. “Best to let things sort themselves out.”

“What are they going to do?” I asked.

“Depends,” she said.

“On what?”

“On what he did.”

I pulled my arm out of Scarlett’s grasp—she wasn’t holding me very hard—and rushed over to Kelvin.

“Excuse me.” I waved my hand to get the men’s attention. “Whatever happened, I’m sure he’s sorry. Can we just all get along tonight?”

“I’d stay out of the way, ma’am,” one of them grumbled.

I thought I recognized him. “Otto? Otto Holt?”

He glanced at me. “Yeah.”

“I thought that was you,” I said. “I’m Leah Mae Larkin. Remember me? Clay Larkin’s daughter.”

Otto eyed me, and the other man crossed his arms over his thick chest.