But what if he’s still there waiting for you?
She made the turn.
There were even more cars. She found a spot at the far back of the lot and started toward the building. When she noticed Carson’s truck parked at the end of a row, her belly got all fluttery. She passed couples in various states of public displays of affection and in stages of undress. Guys were standing in groups drinking and laughing. She didn’t stop walking when they whistled at her.
At the door she showed her hand stamp and weaved through the crowd, figuring she’d find Carson at the bar. A hand circled her waist and spun her around.
Her brother Thomas grinned at her. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Hey. I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”
“Nothing else to do around here.” He tugged on her hand. “Let’s dance.”
“Thomas—”
“One song. Come on. I learned some new moves.”
She laughed. “All right.”
The dance floor was so crowded they could barely move. And Thomas was so determined to show off the swing dancing spins they ended up dancing to three songs. By that time she could hardly breathe and she walked out the open side door for some fresh air.
Large and small groups were scattered everywhere. Would she look stupid or desperate if she just wandered around by herself? Probably. But what choice did she have if she wanted to find Carson?
It didn’t take her long to find him. He was in a group of four guys with his arm slung over the shoulder of one of the women Beverly had pointed out earlier. The nasty brunette.
Her stomach, her heart, her hopes—everything inside her crashed. She thought about all the things Carson had said to her. Had it all been a line?
How will you know if you don’t ask?
What if she confronted him and he humiliated her in front of these people?
What if she did nothing?
Could she really look him in the eye and act like she hadn’t seen his arm around the brunette the next time she saw him?
Did she scurry deeper into the shadows? Or step out of them entirely?
Her feet seemed to make the decision for her.
“…and you know that’s all they want from you,” said the cowboy to Carson’s left.
“Don’t matter,” Carson said and took a swig of beer. “They know what they’re getting into with me.”
“I’ll get into it with you,” the brunette purred.
Carson turned his head and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh and snuggle closer.
As Carolyn stepped forward, she noticed she hadn’t been in the shadows as much as she’d hoped because Carson was staring right at her—with no emotion whatsoever. He didn’t bother to drop his arm away from the woman. Not an ounce of guilt crossed his face.
Say something.
“I wondered if you’d be here tonight.”
He inclined his head to his posse. “We were hangin’ out until I find something better.”
Direct hit. He’d already found someone better.
“Hey darlin’,” the cowboy on Carson’s right drawled. “Come hang out with us.”
“Yeah, Carson. Ain’t ya gonna introduce us to your pretty friend here?”
A muscle in Carson’s jaw moved. He slowly lifted his beer and drank before he said, “Nope.”
“Aw, come on. You’ve already made your pick for tonight. I’m makin’ this little gal my pick.”
“No, you ain’t. I’m guessing she came by to say she’s gotta get on home.”
Don’t stand there looking pathetic.
But she, Carolyn West, was the very definition of the word pathetic right now. She didn’t have the experience to deal with this type of rejection, so no matter what she said, Carson would be aware he’d crushed her hopes under his boot heel.
“Yes, I’m going home. Goodbye, Carson.”
Grateful for the darkness, she walked away.
Chapter Ten
Carson
You are a total ass**le.
Carson let his arm fall away from the brunette as soon as Carolyn disappeared from view, but his self-hatred remained.
“Who was she?” the woman cooed.
“Nobody.”
The f**k she was. She was everything.
Let it go. Let her go. You planned to do this, remember?
That was the last f**king thing he wanted to do. Pissed off—mostly at himself and his goddamn cowardice—he took another long pull from his flask. Waited a minute for the booze to quell the burning inside him. No help. He still wanted to punch someone.
Good thing there was an abundance of drunken ass**les who’d jump into a fight without much prompting.
The brunette’s hand slithered up his torso from his belt buckle, stopping on his chest. “Where were we? You mentioned something about going back to your place.”
The thought of having this woman in his bed—the bed he’d had Carolyn in just two nights ago—caused a sick churning in his gut. “Sorry. Not in the cards tonight.”
“But you said…”
“I changed my mind.” Carson walked off.
She shouted something at him but he didn’t care.
He kept a spare bottle in his truck. After several mouthfuls of Windsor, he went looking for trouble.
Immediately he saw his target. Bob Delray. Big-mouth, know-it-all ass**le. And he had a couple of his loser buddies backing him. Even better. With any luck, all four of them would jump in.
He’d barely reached the edge of the group when he heard “McKay” and then snide laughter. He marched up to Bob, who had an inch on Carson’s six-foot-two frame. Bob outweighed him by a good fifty pounds, but all of that was fat.