Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

“Huh?” Maverick mumbles, clearly not paying attention to me.

I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Where. Is. Our. Brother?”

“Had to head back home. Somethin’ ’bout one of his new horses gettin’ hurt.”

“Which one?”

I wobble as Leigh’s body gets heavier, almost taking both of us down, before I steady myself and her. How is she this drunk? We’ve been drinking the same amount and I can still stand on my own two feet.

“Major,” he answers, finally reaching out to take Leigh from my arms.

I vaguely remember the stallion that Maverick is talking about, but I haven’t spent much time in the stables lately, so I’m not sure which Thoroughbred he means. Clay has been busy building up his baby-making horses the last year, expanded the breeding end of the Davis ranch like he’s wanted to for a while now. The only time I pay any attention to the things he’s working on is when I go to take my horse, Daisy, out for a ride.

“He okay?” I ask, not sure who I’m asking about, the horse or Clay—my big, stoic brother loves those animals like they were his own babies.

“Will be, I’m sure. Clay probably didn’t even have to leave, but you know how much of a control freak he is. He was out the door practically the second he saw Drew’s name on his phone.”

The instant he finishes talking, Leigh pounces and grabs his neck to pull his head down. Thankfully Maverick’s hat shields enough that I’m not forced to watch them make out in the middle of the bar. I roll my eyes when she bounces slightly, asking without words for my brother to pick her up, something he does instantly. Well, I guess she was done waiting for her man to pay attention to her.

“As much as I hate to point this out, you might want to put your big mitt over her crotch or this whole room is about to know what kind of panties are coverin’ up her cooter,” I halfway joke. I wouldn’t bother, normally, but the embarrassing shit she does when she’s drunk is only funny when she’s aware of it. Her skirt isn’t as short as mine is, but if she keeps dry-humpin’ my brother it’s not going to keep her covered for long. Time to get them out of here before all horny hell breaks loose.

“You two go. I’ll be fine here,” I yell toward the top of his head, holding my amusement in when his hand indeed goes to her ass. Generally, neither one of my brothers would ever leave me here alone, regardless of the fact that we grew up in this town and probably know every person that’s in here. But with Leigh workin’ her female magic on him, I know Maverick’s mind is only on one thing—showin’ his woman how much he loves her. Maverick waves and half-drags, half-carries a giggling Leigh out the door and into the night.

“Well, Lenore, it looks like Loretta just can’t handle us anymore,” I say to myself, twisting a piece of my wig’s bright purple curls around my finger. Leigh might not have staying power anymore, but I damn well do. I didn’t realize how much I needed this night out until we were laughing our asses off in the middle of our dancing marathon. Not willing to lose the buzz I’m ridin’ high on, I rock back on the heels of my purple cowboy boots and swing myself around, back to the dance floor. I’ve just started swaying my hips again to the music when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Pulling it out, I smile when I see Maverick’s text letting me know he told Randy, the bouncer, to keep an eye on me.

Good old Maverick.

I continue to drink and dance around the floor. No one pays me any mind, the girl in the purple wig swaying to the beat all by herself. I feel eyes on me, though. I ignore them, as always, but the burn of them just grows, and it only makes me move a little more seductively to the music. I can’t even remember the last time I had a good drunken one-night stand, which means it’s been way too long. I stopped having them almost subconsciously when I found out the truth about my mother. Once I discovered what a whore she had been, every time I felt the urge to raise my skirt for a man, I felt equal measures irrational guilt and shame—the apple not falling far from the tree, and all that. I know it isn’t the same, but I honestly didn’t even feel the pull to enjoy some meaningless mutual, mindless pleasure until just now. I think tonight is the night.

I’m not proud to admit this, even if it’s just to myself, but I have to be drunk to enjoy sex. I tried sober fucking a few times, and each time ended in disaster. All I could see was the rugged, youthful face of the only person I’ve ever had bring me to completion. I had to shut down my mind instantly when it happened, and it just ended up being one long rutting session for the man that ended when I had enough and clenched my inner muscles so hard that he had no choice but to finally be done. Even if I wasn’t the master of fakin’ it, that shit got old real quick, and now I find it’s better to drink myself so stupid that I lose the ability to care that I’ll never feel that pleasure again.

Maybe I should take Jana up on that sex-toy shit. Lord knows it would be nice to know I’m not permanently broken.

I make a mental note to talk to her about it on Monday when I take my normal pie break at the PieHole. In the meantime, I head to the bar for another drink and let my mind drift away on the dizzy rapids of a beer-filled river.

- -

Good God, it’s bright.

I pull the covers over my head, trying to block out the harsh morning sun beating into my retinas. Everything hurts, from my tingling scalp all the way down to my toes, and I’m way too hungover to deal with the fireball in the sky this morning. I roll, trying to pull the thick blanket around me so that I can fully submerge myself in a cocoon of darkness, but I don’t get far when I meet resistance.

I tug, but the blankets don’t budge.

I tug harder, and still they don’t obey.

Giving them one last heave, I almost roll off the bed when they’re ripped out of my grasp and my body is forced forward with the momentum of the yank I didn’t get to complete.

“What the hell?” I screech, blinking wildly when my eyes are assaulted by the devil rays once again before giving up and slamming my lids down in an effort to not hurl with the brightness.

I’m instantly aware of my nudeness with the loss of the blankets’ warmth, the air-conditioning bathing my skin with chilly air the second I lose purchase of them.

“What the fuckin’ hell?” I yelp, even louder, and wince when the sound hits my ears, still not able to open my eyes.

That’s when I hear the male groan to my right and every inch of my body goes rock hard. Slowly, I open my eyes, giving myself enough time to adjust to the harsh lighting, but also working up the courage to actually find out where I am.