Rough Country (Tannen Boys 3)

Heads nod, and from over by the pool table, a guy calls out sarcastically, “Yes sir, Hank.” His laughter can be heard across the bar and his buddies high-five him.

“Keep it up, Chuckles, and I’ll cut you off,” Unc threatens.

The table of guys sobers and eye their almost empty pitcher. I’m pretty sure they’ll be ordering another one any minute in case Unc decides not to serve them any more tonight.

“Glad we understand each other, gentlemen. As you were.”

Unc walks back to his perch, limping slightly, but he covers it by making it seem like he’s checking the stock along the bar. Lemons, limes, napkins, ice . . .

They’re all good, Unc. You know I got you covered.

Somehow, I find myself sitting at a table with all the Tannen and Bennett women, a frozen Girly Beer in front of me, Olivia at my side and apparently off work for the evening.

Still in shock, I ask Olivia, “Has he ever done anything like this?”

“Hell no. It’s like Ebenezer Scrooge woke up and understood the meaning of Christmas or something. But I’m not going to argue. Actually, what I’m going to do is shoot this beer, sneak out the back door, and go over to Hannah’s shop and surprise her. If I’m off tonight—no offense to you ladies—but I’d rather spend the evening with my lady.”

She’s challenging them too, the way she did me at first. But the whole group smiles, Shayanne encouraging her to ‘go getcha some.’

Rix tells Olivia, “If Hank says anything, you’re in the bathroom. If he questions it, we’ll say you got your period. Shuts men up every time.”

She’s an absolute evil genius and I love it.

Olivia shows her appreciation by swallowing her beer in one long gulp, waving goodbye, and skirting around the dance floor to disappear into the kitchen.

“You think she’s okay to drive?” I ask, suddenly realizing that though it was only one beer, she downed it quickly so it’ll hit her all at once.

Shayanne laughs. “One, she’s no lightweight. Two, Hannah’s shop is down the street so she’s probably walking over. And three, the way she opened up her throat and poured that beer down, that woman would probably give one mean blowjob.”

I blink in shock. So does everyone else. Silently.

“What? I’m just saying,” Shayanne replies with a shrug. “You know how long it took me to not choke? Maybe I can ask her how she learned to do that?” She looks off toward the kitchen, and Sophie lays a staying hand on her arm. “Right, not now. Probably not the best time. But later . . .” She trails off.

“Breathe through your nose,” Katelyn offers quietly, and all our heads swivel her way. She shrugs, but it starts another tidal wave of laughter.

“I cannot believe you just said that!” Allyson’s eyes are wide with shock.

Katelyn’s returning smile is coy and innocent.

“What about you?” Shayanne whirls on me, eyes boring into my soul.

I can feel the blood rush out of my face and know I must be as pale as a ghost. “Uh, what about me?”

She is not asking if I choke, surely not. Right? Because that is not a conversation I’m having with Bobby’s family. Scratch that, it’s not a conversation I’m having with anyone, period. Privacy is a good thing, and as someone who picks and chooses what parts of my life I share, I recognize that more than most.

Shay realizes the direction of my thoughts and waves her hands spastically. ‘No, no, not like that. I mean ‘what about you?’ like ‘tell us about you.’ I wouldn’t go straight for sex life questions. I save that stuff for meeting five, at least. Unless you’re feeling like there’s something you want to share with the class?” She swirls her straw in her glass, one brow raised in question.

Every pair of eyes around the table weighs on me.

“No, uh . . . nope. I’m fine,” I stammer out.

“Don’t scare her,” Sophie whispers out of the side of her mouth to Shayanne. “We’re supposed to make her want to stay, not run for the hills from the crazy hillbillies.” To me, Sophie says, “I swear you get used to it. I’m a city girl too. Used to be all designer clothes, mani-pedis, and nightclubs every weekend. Now, ‘fancy’ means it hasn’t had cow shit or placenta on it, James painting my toes, and Hank’s.” She looks around the bar, sounding wistful. “Came here for a summer internship with Doc and never left. One day, when he retires—which he never will—I’ll take over the whole practice. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“That’s mostly because of James, though,” Katelyn says.

“How’d you two meet? Not to gossip, but I heard he used to be a professional bull rider?” I ask. The grapevine works well around here, and I guess I don’t mind it so much when it’s not about me. At dinner, they’d obviously been deeply in love, with each other and their little girl, but I didn’t exactly get everyone’s life story.