“Fine.”
Ash slipped down the bar toward the door to the kitchen. Her skin felt tight, every inch of her sensitive to the sogginess of her shirt, the tickle of errant wisps of hair against her face, the cinch of her belt.
What was wrong with her?
Jasmine’s laugh chased her all the way into the kitchen, nipping at her heels and making her flinch with the cheery sound of it. She paused just inside the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The last time she’d felt this way was the day before Jasmine had up and left Half Moon Creek.
Memories flooded her. The first week as a freshman, when Jasmine’s family had moved to town and Jazzy had decided they should be best friends because they were in three out of four classes together. They’d become inseparable after that, hanging out after school, and on weekends. All the important firsts were shared: first time skinny-dipping at the quarry, first time trying cigarettes—Jasmine’s idea. First time texting boys—ones Jasmine liked. First dates—Jasmine’s. First kisses—also Jasmine’s...
Four long years of Ashley living in Jasmine’s shadow.
Now, after just an hour, she was right back in it. Only now the shadow was bigger than ever, and Ash wondered if she’d ever see the light of day again.
“What are you doing?” Zoe, the shiest of her shy twin sisters, said. “You look sick.”
“I’m fine.” Ash gave herself a mental shake and went on into the office in the back to freshen up. Beth’s makeup bag sat open on the desk, and she had a stack of identical black tank tops with the pub’s logo on the back sitting on the corner. After stripping off her sticky shirt, she pulled one on.
She checked herself out in the mirror. God, how could Beth wear these all the time? Yes, they were made of that stretchy spandex cotton blend, but Beth had at least two cup sizes on Ash, and the tank top was tight on Ashley. However, right now, tight was better than beer-sodden, so, after unsuccessfully stretching the material—it was like elastic, snapping right back into place—Ashley loosened her hair and ran a brush through it before refastening her ponytail. There was no way she could pull off the sleek, sophisticated look that Jazz had, but at least it was neat. Neater.
Never one to wear much makeup, she pored through all the junk in Beth’s bag before finding a lip gloss that didn’t look too bright and some blush.
There.
She blinked at herself in the mirror.
Marginally better.
“Oh, my God. That’s a thousand times better,” her sister said when Ashley reemerged a minute later.
“Look at you!” Jasmine cried. “God, you are so cute.” She shook her head in wonder. “I tell you, you are exactly the same.” She indicated the bar with a sweep of her hand. “Just like this place. I love it.”
Something deep in the pit of Ashley’s stomach let out a low, menacing growl.
“It’s like time stands still here.”
Errrrr...
“It’s so comforting.” Jasmine closed her eyes and smiled. “You have no idea.”
The growly thing in her tummy reached up and snagged the inside of her throat, making it difficult to swallow.
“So, tell me, cutie-pie.” Because she was wearing high heels, Jasmine had to stoop a little in order to lean Ash’s way. “Anyone snatched you up yet?”
The hot, beasty thing inside of her had tentacles, one of which was snaking up her spinal cord and others that slithered into her extremities. Whatever it was, it was intent on possessing her, and the growl in her tummy slipped right out of her throat.
“What did you say?” Jasmine asked with a wrinkle of her nose.
Ash licked her lips, about to embark on a diatribe, about what? She had no idea. “Yeah, I’ve got a boyfriend.”
“You do?”
“Sure.”
Someone cleared his throat.
“Hey, honey, about those nachos...?”
Ashley spun. Colton Cross stood there, adjusting his cowboy hat so it tilted back on his thick head. Perfect. “Nachos?”
“Yeah.” He squinted.
“You want nachos, baby?” She beckoned him closer. “C’mere.”
A puzzled expression settled over his features as he leaned across the bar. When Ash fisted her hand in the front of his shirt and tugged, his expression went from puzzled to wide-eyed surprise.
“Look, I’m sorry if I offended—” he began.
She didn’t let him finish. For whatever-God-forsaken-reason, Ashley leaned across the bar and planted a juicy one, square on Colton Cross’s lips, sucking his apology right out of his mouth before he had a chance to finish.
“What the—”
Her mouth still close to his, she whispered, “Pretend to be my boyfriend, just for tonight, and your nachos and beer tab are on the house.”
WHAT THE FUCK had just happened? The snippy girl from behind the bar kissed him. Like, full-on, openmouthed kissed him.
“Pretend to be my boyfriend, just for tonight, and your nachos and beer tab are on the house.”
“Is this a—” Colton intended to say, “joke,” but the girl locked her lips on him once more, shutting him up.
So, Colton decided to roll with it. Why the hell not? Seemed like a decent deal to him, free beer and nachos for a little bit of spit swapping? He pulled away. “As much as I want?”
“As much as you want, what?” she whispered, her face flushed, like she was angry.
Weird chick.
“Beer. Nachos.” He wet his lips and was about to say “kisses,” because—damn—the girl might be a harpy but she wasn’t half-bad in the kissing department.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She blinked hard. “No, wait.” It was like she was doing a calculus problem in her head, her eyes rolled up and to the side, and her ruby lips moved silently, like she was figuring something out. “Well, within reason. Like you better be legal to drive home to the Silver Tree Ranch afterwards.”
“How’d you know where I live?”
“God!” She huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes again. Whatever he’d done to piss her off was clearly still irritating her, despite her lusty lip on lip action.
“Is this him?”
A dark-haired beauty leaned on the bar, a hand outstretched. “I’m Jasmine. Ashley and I go way back.”
Ashley. Right. Good thing the friend mentioned her name, because he’d forgotten it and almost called her Brenda again. He shook the woman’s hand. “Colton.”
Ashley gave him a fierce look, trying to convey...something. Who the hell knew what this woman wanted? She turned to her friend and said, “Colt and I had a bit of a fight earlier, so...” She shrugged. Like that summed up their whole relationship. Which, as far as he was concerned, it did.
“She was snippy,” he offered, helpfully.
She glowered. “You were an ass.”
Rubbing his jaw, he said, “Can’t say I recall that part.”
“We might break up.” Her face was red. Not a sweet blushing red, but a