Renie waited another two or three minutes to leave, in case he told her not to come, but he didn’t.
Billy was standing next to his truck when she pulled in. There wasn’t anywhere for her to park in the crowded lot, so she stopped and rolled down her window.
“Lookin’ for a ride, cowboy?”
Billy walked toward her car without answering. Even drunk Billy Patterson’s swagger was sexy as hell. Renie was five feet ten, Billy was at least six inches taller. He had dark, brown hair that he’d let grow longer than she’d ever seen it. His eyes were blue, but pale, not dark blue like hers.
His jacket hung open in the front, and his red plaid True Grit shirt fit tight across his chest, even with the top two buttons undone. His tan cowboy hat sat low enough that his eyes were partially covered, and when he smiled, his shit-eating grin and perfectly symmetrical dimples guaranteed Billy would get exactly what he wanted.
“Hey there, cowgirl.” Billy tipped his hat.
She smiled. “No cowgirls here that I can see.”
He climbed in the passenger seat and turned sideways, so he faced her. “Come on, Renie, you’re a cowgirl. You know you are. You have been since you were a little bit a nuthin’ ridin’ around on Pooh Bear.”
“How much did you have to drink tonight, Billy?”
“Not enough to chase the ghosts away, Renie.” Billy stroked the side of her face.
“Ghosts?” she whispered.
“Your ghosts, Renie. You been hauntin’ me tonight, you been hauntin’ me all week, and no amount of whiskey could get you out of my head.”
Billy cupped the back of her neck. “You know what I’m talkin’ about, don’t ya?”
If Billy kissed her right now, and then didn’t remember tomorrow, it would kill her.
“Please don’t, Billy.”
“I gotta.” He pulled her closer and put his lips on hers.
She gasped, and opened her lips slightly. He must’ve taken it as a sign. His mouth went from gentle to rough, his tongue attacked hers.
He pulled back, his hand still tight on her neck. “I knew it,” he said, his eyes looking deeply into hers.
“What did you know, Billy?”
“Fucking amazing. I knew it would be.” He leaned forward and nipped her bottom lip, pulling it until her mouth opened to his again.
Renie pulled back, getting lightheaded. “Let’s get you home,” she murmured.
“Home.” He threw his hat over the seat. “I live in your house, Renie.”
“It’s not my house, Billy. It’s your house now.” She pulled out of the parking lot.
“I can feel you in it, even when you ain’t there. It’s your house too, Renie. Your ghost hangs out there, hauntin’ me.”
Yep, he was drunk. She turned the music up, hoping he’d pass out between here and home.
She helped him into the house, and as far as the big couch in the family room.
“Come here,” he said, lying on his back, reaching up for her.
“Night, Billy.” She tossed a blanket at him.
“Wait, Renie, come back. We need to talk.”
“We’ll talk in the morning.” If he even remembered this. She went downstairs, no more ready to go to sleep than she was when he texted her to pick him up.