One Wright Stand

“Well, you look great,” I told him honestly.

Because he did look hot as fuck. Dress pants and a white button-up with those same fancy shoes. His hair was all gelled, and there was a soft hue of pink across his cheeks from the pool earlier.

He just didn’t look like he belonged in a barn in West Texas.

“I feel ridiculous,” he admitted with a laugh.

“Psh,” I said, taking his arm and pulling him away from the entrance. “It’s just a Texas dance party. You do know how to line dance, don’t you?”

“I’m from Vancouver.”

I snorted. “We can get you some boots,” I teased playfully. “That’ll help.”

He shook his head. “I think I’ll pass. Tell me this place has alcohol. I’m going to need to drink more for this.”

“Thank God, yes.”

I grinned and drew him toward the bar. I liked that he was a little out of his element here. We could have gone back to Walkers, like yesterday, but I’d wanted Jordan to try something new. He’d been here a week, and he’d hardly seen anything in Lubbock. Not that there was a ton to see, but there was more than Wright Construction. That was for sure.

“They used to only serve their wine, which is actually surprisingly good. But when they were having money problems, they got a full bar. It brings in more people.”

“Interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a winery like this, and I’ve seen a lot of wineries.”

“We can go somewhere else,” I offered. I had known that this was going to be a culture shock for him, but I’d wanted to bring him anyway. Maybe it was a test. “I thought you’d want the whole experience.”

He leaned against the bar, taking my hand and pulling me closer to him. “You’re here. That’s all I need.”

I flushed all over. I wanted to reply with something flirtatious, but really, I had no words. I wasn’t used to guys who were as outgoing as I was or who knew how to charm a snake. Typically, I was more than most guys could handle, and they made that known rather quickly. There was only one other guy who had been able to deal with all of this. Jordan surprised me.

He ordered a drink and got me another beer. I was already a little tipsy, but a beer wouldn’t put me over the edge. I didn’t want to be as drunk as I had been last night. Cézanne had told me that she’d dropped me off at my place, but contrary to popular belief, I didn’t like not remembering how I’d gotten home. I was going to want to remember everything about tonight.

I took a sip of my beer, and then a hand clamped down on Jordan’s shoulder. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

My eyes widened at the giant of a guy who had his hand on Jordan. Hollin Abbey was tall and broad with shoulders for days. He was older than me and had gone to a different high school. We hadn’t hung in the same circles, but I still knew who he was. He worked at the winery. It didn’t explain why he was touching Jordan.

But when Jordan turned around, cool as ever, his face lit up. He stuck his hand out. “Hollin!”

“Hey, Jordan! Didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Didn’t expect to be here myself.”

My eyes widened. “And how exactly do you know someone in Lubbock? You’ve only been here a week!”

Jordan laughed and gestured to Hollin. “This is my cousin.”

I looked back at him blankly. “But…you’re a Wright.”

“Cousin on the other side,” Hollin chimed in. He held his hand out to me now. “Hollin Abbey. It’s Annie, right?”

“Yeah. We’ve met. So how are you two related?”

“He’s my uncle’s kid,” Jordan told me. “We met earlier this week. I didn’t expect to see him out.”

Hollin shrugged and ran a hand back through his sandy-blond hair. “I’m actually the manager here.”

“Here?” Jordan asked in surprise.

“Yeah, I help run the winery. The college crowd isn’t always here, and you’d be shocked to learn it cleans up pretty nicely on the weekends for tours and the like. The wine is great. I’d recommend it.”

“Huh,” Jordan said. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

Hollin laughed. “Yeah, it’s not the best on two-dollar Tuesday, I admit.”

“It does clean up,” I confirmed.

But Hollin was looking elsewhere. A fight had broken out on the other end of the bar. He shot us a pained expression. “If you’ll excuse me, I should handle that. Tell the bartenders that Hollin sent you and get some drinks on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jordan insisted.

“Hey, it’s not every day that my cousin walks into my bar.”

Jordan shook his head, but Hollin was already disappearing into the crowd, ready to pull apart the catfight. When Jordan slid his gaze back to me, I couldn’t help but give him a sidelong look.