Highball Rush by Claire Kingsley & Lucy Score

Author:Claire Kingsley & Lucy Score [Kingsley, Claire & Score, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Always Have, LLC
Published: 2019-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

25

MAYA

The Bodines had decided there was only one thing to do in the wake of this new crisis: eat our weight in comfort food and go drink at the Lookout.

I hopped out of Gibson’s truck, feeling a little sleepy after such a big meal. We’d gone home to check on Cash and play with him a little before heading back to Moonshine for dinner. I’d devoured most of a huge pepperoni roll and I had zero regrets.

Gibson walked around the front of his pickup, dressed in jeans and a dark t-shirt. He gave me a lazy smile, then draped his arm around my shoulders. Even though the lawsuit was stressing everyone out, Gibson had seemed relaxed since our meeting with his family. Those edges of his weren’t nearly so rough. I was starting to feel like I had my old Gibson back.

“Can I tell you something that’s a little bit silly?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“I used to daydream about my first time going to the Lookout.”

“You’ve never been here before, have you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I was too young.”

We started for the door, his arm still around me. “What’s silly about that?”

“This was kinda my daydream,” I said, feeling a little sheepish. “Walking in here with you.”

“You thought about that back then?”

I reached up and twined my fingers through his. “Um, yeah. I might have had a bit of a crush on you.”

He paused and looked down at me, one corner of his mouth hooking in a grin. “You did?”

“Come on, Gibs. You were the sexy, intimidating older guy. And you can sing. Of course I had a little crush.”

“And all this time, I thought you’d liked how I played guitar.”

“Look who has a sense of humor all of a sudden,” I said, nudging him with my hip. “A crush wasn’t why I liked hanging out with you. I just indulged in a little daydream once in a while.”

“Imagine that. Me, making a teenage girl’s dream come true.” He grabbed the door handle.

I looked up at him. “I’m not a teenager anymore.”

His brow furrowed and heat smoldered in his eyes. With a low rumble in his throat, he looked me up and down, a predator sizing up his prey. My body responded to his fire, a tingle rushing straight to my core. For a heartbeat, I wondered if he’d turn us around, put me in his truck, and drive us back to his place.

Instead, he opened the door.

Noise spilled out into the warm night and I stepped into the once-forbidden realm of whiskey and moonshine. The lights were dim, the air just shy of stuffy. Most of the stools around the L-shaped bar were taken. A lot of the tables, too. There were pool tables, neon beer signs, and peanut shells on the floor. Country music mixed with the din of a dozen conversations.

I’d been in countless bars before, but never this bar. Never the bar in my girlish fantasies. I’d forgotten about those daydreams—boxed them up with all things Callie. And now, here I was.

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