I can’t even argue with her; she’s right, for the most part. I don’t treat Tessa like shit all the time, only when she does something to get me going. Like right now.

And earlier.

“She’s looking,” Riley tells me, and my blood runs cold. I turn my head slowly in Tessa’s direction.

Her eyes are focused on mine—blazing—and I swear I see a hint of red in them as she looks at Riley and then back to me. She doesn’t move, she doesn’t even blink. Her stare turns from surprised to primal in an instant, and I’m taken aback by the murderous glare directed our way.

“She’s so pissed.” Riley laughs next to me, and it takes everything in me not to pour her backup drink over her head.

Instead, I mumble, “Shut up,” grab the drink, and walk toward Tessa.

Her douchey waiter is still at the end of the bar by the time I reach her.

“Whoa, I never thought I’d find you here, in a bar, drinking with another girl. Surprise, surprise,” she quips with a sarcastic smile.

“Why are you here?” I ask, stepping closer to her.

She leans away. “Why are you?”

“Tessa,” I warn, and she rolls her eyes.

“Not tonight, Hardin, not happening.” She climbs off of the tall chair and pulls her dress down.

“Don’t walk away from me.” My words come out as a command, but I know they’re really a plea. I reach for her arm, but she pulls away.

“Why not? That’s what you always do to me.” She glares at Riley again. “We’re both here with other people.”

I shake my head. “Fuck, no. That’s Lillian’s girlfriend.”

Her shoulders instantly relax. “Oh.” She looks into my eyes and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

“We need to leave now.”

“So go.”

“You and I,” I clarify.

“I’m not going anywhere except somewhere fun, more fun than this place, since you’re here and you’re always stopping my fun. You’re like the fun police.” She smiles at her own stupid joke and continues. “That’s exactly what you are! You’re the fun police. I should really get you a badge made and you can wear it all around—you know, to stop everyone’s fun,” she rambles and bursts into full-on giggles.

Christ, she’s fucking wasted.

“How much did you drink?” I yell over the music. I thought it was going to die down, but apparently the elderly dancers have been goaded into an encore.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. A few, and this one, too.” She takes the cup from my hand before I can stop her, sets it on the table, and hoists herself back onto the chair.

“Don’t drink that. You’re obviously smashed.”

“What’s that sound?” She puts her hand to her ear. “Is that the siren of the fun police I hear? Wah, wah, wah.” For a second she pouts like a child, then laughs. “Go away if you’re going to be a fun-sucker.” Tessa lifts the glass to her mouth and takes three large gulps. She’s swallowed half the drink in seconds.

“You’re going to get sick,” I say.

“Blah, blah, blah,” she mocks, tilting her head back and forth with each word. She looks past me, and a small smirk plays on her lips. “You know Robert, right?”

I look to my side to find the asshole is standing next to me with a drink in each hand.

“Nice to see you again,” Robert says, then half smiles. His eyes are bloodshot. He’s drunk, too.

Did he take advantage of her? Did he kiss her?

I take a deep breath. His father is the sheriff. His father is the sheriff. His father is the sheriff.

His father is the fucking sheriff of this shithole of a town.

I look back at Tessa and say over my shoulder, “Go away.”

Tessa rolls her eyes. I forgot how ballsy she becomes when she has liquor in her veins. “Don’t go,” she says, challenging me, and he sits down at the table. “Don’t you have company to entertain?” she taunts.

“No, I don’t. Let’s go home.” I’m barely controlling my temper. If this were any other night, Robert’s face would be imprinted on the table by now.

“That cabin isn’t home; we’re hours from home.” She finishes off the drink she stole from me. Then she gives me a look that somehow manages to mix loathing, drunk-flippancy, and indifference. “Actually, as of Monday, I don’t have a home anyway, thanks to you.”

chapter

forty-seven

TESSA

Hardin’s nostrils flare as he tries to control his temper. I glance over at Robert, who looks slightly uncomfortable, though not in the least bit intimidated by Hardin.

“If you’re purposely trying to make me angry, it’s working,” Hardin says.

“I’m not, I just don’t want to go.” And right as the music cuts off, I practically yell, “I want to drink and be young and have fun!”

Everyone turns to me. I’m not sure what to do with all the attention, so I awkwardly wave my hand in the air. Someone gives a hoot of approval, and half the bar raises their glasses in salute and then goes back to talking. The music resumes, and Robert laughs. Hardin glowers.

“You’ve obviously had enough to drink,” he says, eyeing the now half-empty glass that Robert brought to me.

“News flash, Hardin: I’m an adult,” I remark in a childish tone.

“Dammit, Tessa.”

“Maybe I should go . . .” Robert stands.

“Obviously,” Hardin replies at the same time that I say “No.”

But then, looking around us, I let out a sigh. As much as I was enjoying my evening with Robert, I know that Hardin will stand here the entire time making rude remarks, threats, whatever he has to do to make him leave. It’s better if he does go.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go and you can stay,” I tell Robert.

He shakes his head with understanding. “No, no—don’t worry about it. I had a long day, anyway.” He’s so calm and easygoing about everything. It’s really refreshing.

“I’ll walk you out,” I tell him. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see him again, and he’s been so kind to me tonight.

“No, you won’t,” Hardin chimes in, but I ignore him and follow Robert toward the door of the small bar. When I look back at the table, Hardin is leaning against it with his eyes closed. I hope he’s taking deep breaths in and out, because I’m in no mood for his crap tonight.

Once we get outside, I turn to Robert. “I really am sorry. I didn’t know he was here. I was just trying to have a fun night.”

Robert smiles and slouches a little to better meet my eyes. “Remember when I said to stop to apologizing for everything?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pad and pen. “I’m not expecting anything, but if someday you’re bored and alone in Seattle, give me a call. Or not. It’s up to you if you want to or not.” He writes something down, then hands it to me.

“Okay.” I don’t want to make any promises that I can’t keep, so I just smile and tuck the small paper into the top of my dress. “Sorry!” I squeak when I realize that I basically just fondled myself in front of him.

“Stop saying sorry!” He laughs. “And especially not for that!” He looks at the entrance to the bar, then out at the dark, dark night. “Well, I better go. It was nice to meet you; maybe we’ll see one another again?”

I nod and smile as he walks down the sidewalk.

“It’s cold out here,” Hardin’s voice says behind me, scaring the shit out of me.

I huff and walk past him back into the bar. The table that I was sitting at is now taken by a bald man and his supersized mug of beer. I grab my purse off the stool next to him, and he just gives me a dead-eyed look. Or rather, gives my breasts one.

Hardin is behind me. Again. “Let’s just go, please.”

I step over to the bar area. “Can I just get two feet of space? I don’t even want to be around you right now. You said some pretty hateful things to me,” I remind him.

“You know I didn’t mean them,” he answers, defending himself, attempting to make eye contact with me. I’m not falling for it.