Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

“Yes. You should wear that one.” Liberty pointed to the animal-print dress. “It’ll bring out the beast in him.”

“The man is already a beast.” She held up a sleeveless brown dress with gold accents on the bust line. It looked like it’d hug Harper’s every curve.

“That’s the one.”

Harper smiled and started tossing out pieces of lingerie. Leopard-print crotchless panties slipped off the bed to the floor.

“So since I’m having a romantic dinner with my hubby tonight, I want you to come with me tomorrow night for girls’ night out.”

Liberty bit back a groan. “Thanks for the invite, but I don’t do well with that kinda stuff.”

“Oh, pooh. You met most of the ladies at my wedding.”

“The . . . older group of ladies who were doing shots?”

“Yep. They’re fun, and they’d love to see you again. So would Celia. I don’t know if Lainie and Janie can go, but Harlow plans to show up if Tierney doesn’t have her babysitting.”

Liberty watched Harper’s face. For some reason, this was important to her. “What the hell. I’ll go. But I’m not the designated driver.”

Buckeye Joe’s hadn’t changed since the last time Liberty had been in. It was her kind of place—cheap beer, lots of laughter, friends and neighbors hanging out.

Still, she felt like a fish out of water, not only because her mother had run off with the married bar owner, but because the table in front of her was filled with all of Harper’s friends.

Celia jumped up immediately and hugged her. “Liberty! I’m happy to see you! And wow. You look fantastic.”

She said, “Thanks,” then whispered, “It’s all smoke and mirrors and Harper’s doing.”

“Wrong. The Masterson girls are all gorgeous.”

That was stretching it.

Hooking her arm through Liberty’s, Harper said, “You remember my sister. Now she lives in Denver, which is lucky for us.” She pointed to a stout woman with carrot-colored hair. “Remember Bernice? I used to work for her at the Beauty Barn.” Then she rattled off the names of the rest of the women at the table.

A petite, white-haired woman wearing a tiara and fake gold eyelashes pulled out a chair in the middle of the group. “Now, sweetie, lose the panicked look. We’re completely harmless.”

Silence lingered.

Someone behind them yelled, “You’ll go to hell for lyin’.”

All of the women turned and glared at the heckler until the poor man hustled out the door.

Yikes.

Liberty slid into the seat. “I’ll apologize in advance. I’m horrible with names.”

“I’m Tilda.” She pointed to the woman two seats down. “See the one in the floral housedress chomping on a cigar? That’s Miz Maybelle.” Tilda leaned in and whispered, “She’s in her Poker Alice phase. The cigar is her good luck charm. It’s won her a whole pile of money at the casino.”

A sixtysomething, smartly made-up, impeccably dressed redhead offered her hand. “I’m Vivien. My son was in the army for fifteen years, so I wanted to thank you personally for your service.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

Then they all started chattering at once.

A whistle rent the air and the lady across the table, wearing purple camo and a lime green beret, shook her finger at everyone. “Girls, you ambushed her. While I’m sure she got used to that in Afghanistan, she doesn’t need that here.” She smiled and offered her gloved hand. “I’m Pearl, probably the closest thing to platoon leader this group has got.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Bet you’re good with guns, huh?” Pearl said. “So what’s your favorite kind of gun to shoot?”

“Besides an M16?”

The ladies laughed.

“Handgun? H and K P7. Shotgun? Twenty-gauge Ruger over-under. Rifle? AR-15. How about you?”

Each woman rattled off a different firearm and why they liked it; then they proceeded to argue about which one had the most stopping power. Why these ladies had to worry about “stopping power” worried Liberty, but she just went with it.

Pearl whistled again, and everyone held their ears. But the bartender could hear her plain as day. “Sherry! Another round. And don’t be stingy on the tequila this time.”

Liberty tried to catch Harper’s eye, but she was deep in conversation with another blonde she figured must be Harlow.

The drinks arrived, and no one took a sip until Harper stood. “Thank you to my good friends, and to the Mud Lilies, for such a warm welcome for my sister.”

“Hear, hear.”

The liquid burned like sweet fire as she swallowed. How could that be? Wasn’t it a margarita? She lifted it up for a closer look. “What is this?”

“A stargazer, which is a type of lily. It’s our signature drink. Like it?” Garnet asked.

“It’s . . . unique.”

“And it packs a wallop, so we’re only allowed to have one.”

“By law,” Miz Maybelle added.

Liberty glanced over at Pearl, who nodded.

Tilda primly stirred her drink with a straw. “The Muddy Gap council had a meeting and added it to the bylaws after an incident we had last year. For goodness’ sake, who knew that it was illegal to ride antelope?”

These women had to be f**king with her. Had to be.