Best Friend's Ex Box Set

My thoughts were interrupted when a familiar figure stepped in through the front door to head directly to the bar where I stood.

“Whiskey,” Bill Coates said, sitting down on the bar stool. He glared at me when I narrowed my eyes at him. “What? You don’t sell whiskey? Or are you planning to deny service to a customer?”

“I’m debating denying you service,” I replied coolly. He reeked of alcohol from the bar he had been drinking at before, and his blood-shot eyes were a testament to it as well. I distantly wondered if the other bar kicked him out again for disorderly conduct, or if Bill just wanted to try his luck at the Iron Stallion. “If you can behave yourself here, then you can stay.”

“So very kind of you,” he snarked out.

I looked up to catch sight of Joe staring at Bill with a frown. Holding up a hand, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured him a glass. I didn’t want any altercations in my business. Bill Coates had that effect on residents.

“What do you want?” I asked because I knew there was a specific reason why Bill had come into my business. “I know you’re here for a reason. You’ve never once stumbled over here after you were kicked out.”

Bill took a long and steady gulp of his whiskey. “Well, I wasn’t kicked out. I came here because I wanted to try your whiskey out for a change. Is that a crime?”

“I suppose not,” I said warily.

There were dark bags underneath Bill’s eyes. His skin was a sick pale while his clothes were wrinkled and smelt of stale laundry. It was obvious that sleep had evaded Bill for a few weeks. Then again, he lost a purebred stallion in a fire that I was on the fence about him starting.

“Haven’t slept much, Bill?”

He looked up harshly at that. “Do I look like shit or something?”

“As a matter of fact, you do. You look like death warmed over, or is that your morals weighing you down?”

“Morals?” Bill repeated, scoffing. “You think I burned that woman’s barn down, do you?”

“You are at the top of my suspect list. Let’s put it that way.”

“Why would I burn my own damn stallion to death?” he questioned, fingers clenching tightly around his whiskey glass. “Ever think about that? You’re a rancher, Colt. You know how much animals mean to us.”

“I don’t abuse my own,” I said coldly. “There’s a huge difference between the two of us, Coates. Don’t even try to compare me to you.”

“I would’ve let the horse out of the stall before lighting the son-of-a-bitch on fire,” Bill continued on. “That horse was money to me. It was a purebred fucking beauty. I didn’t ask for your girlfriend to meddle in my business.”

“Cheyenne is not my girlfriend,” I said.

Bill arched his eyebrows at that. Gritting my teeth in aggravation, I twisted a dishcloth in my hands to keep myself from reaching across the bar to smack that shit-eating look off of Bill’s face.

“Trouble in paradise?” Bill chuckled darkly. “Woman’s a piece of work. Good luck to you enjoying that in your bed at night.”

I smacked the palm of my hand against the bar top. A few customers jumped at the unexpected noise.

“Get out,” I said quietly, to not draw more attention. “If you’re going to insist on being crass, then get the fuck out of my business.”

“That fire ruined my life too,” Bill said. “I lost property in the fire. The only person who won’t be suffering any damages is Cheyenne.”

“She lost a barn,” I said, confused at his logic. “I’d say she suffered some damage in the process, Bill.”

“She also happens to have insurance to cover it. Where’s my insurance for my lost stallion?”

“You should’ve taken care of the stallion the way it needed to be taken care of. It’s your fault that horse landed in her sanctuary.”

Spittle formed at the corner of Bill’s lips. “It doesn’t matter how my horse ended up at her place. She still has a way to replace everything. I don’t have a way to replace a stallion, and my reputation is smeared thanks to her. PETA won’t leave me the hell alone.”

“What are you getting at?” I asked, and glanced at the clock above the bar. “I think it’s about time for you to find a ride, Bill. Call your neighbor.”

“I’m suggesting insurance fraud,” Bill replied, squinting at me heavily. “For a Smith, you sure are slow. Now that I think about it, you’re blinded by something else entirely.”

“You’re suggesting that Cheyenne lit her own barn on fire?”