“She doesn’t drink,” Will answered.
“But she does talk,” I snapped.
Paisley swallowed, her eyes still zeroed on Marjorie. “I’d love a lemon water, Jagger. Thank you.”
“Of course, Lee-Lee Donovan can’t be caught drinking,” Marjorie teased. “Whatever would her daddy say? Now her mama—”
“Marjorie Jenkins!” Morgan’s singsong voice was more than welcome in my ear as she came around the table, putting her purse in front of Paisley. “My goodness. Did you forget the other half of that skirt at home? I mean, I know Auburn invited you not to return, but that’s no reason to think fall didn’t actually come. That skirt looks a smidge cold for November, and a smidge trashy with that freshman twenty. Not that we don’t completely support your stress eating, bless your little heart.”
Marjorie huffed. “Morgan, fancy seeing you here, tagging after Lee and Will. Guess nothing changes there.”
“Morgan—” Carter failed to keep the peace. Personally, I was ready to find the popcorn until I saw Paisley’s face. She had her swimming face on, the one that said she’d rather be doing anything else, but she’d tough it out.
Morgan’s smile was bright…and frightening. “And imagine finding you in Oscar’s, trying to pick up flyboys to haul your ass out of Enterprise. Guess we’re both creatures of habit.”
“This shit is better than Jerry Springer,” Josh muttered, joining me at the bar.
I ordered our drinks and leaned against the counter. “She’s upsetting Paisley.”
“I thought that was your goal.”
“Pissing her off and hurting her are two different things.” And Carter wasn’t doing a damn thing to stop it.
“You are walking a fine line, Jagger.” Josh thanked the bartender for his beer and took a drink.
“It’s what I do best.”
Morgan must have finished off Marjorie, because she huffed and swayed her hips in my direction.
“I think I’m going to head home.” She batted her eyes at me and trailed her fingers down my chest. Nothing stirred below. “Maybe you’d carry me?”
“Carry?” Josh about spit out his beer.
“Southern for ‘take,’” I explained, and held up my beer. “Sorry, Marjorie, but I’ve had a few too many of these to get behind the wheel. I can call you a cab, though.”
She pouted. “Well, if I can’t convince you tonight…” She reached behind me and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. A few clicks and her number was stored. “Give me a call sometime. I’m a lot more fun than any of the girls”—she threw a pointed glance back at our table—“you’ll find round these parts.”
On her tiptoes, she brushed her lips across my cheek. It was almost worth it to see Paisley turn a mottled shade of red. God, she was cute when she was pissed. “Good night, Jagger.”
“Night, Marjorie.”
She swayed out of the bar, and I carried our drinks to the table, sliding Paisley’s water toward her. “Lemon water, as ordered.”
“Maybe you should keep it,” she drawled. “Seems you could use a cooldown. Or were you planning on using that number she gave you?”
“Lee,” Will snapped.
At least she paid attention. “I’m not the one perched in my boyfriend’s lap,” I countered. “So, if I want to call a lovely young southern lady, I think that’s my prerogative, right?”
“Damn straight!” Montgomery answered, reminding us that we weren’t as alone at the table as we felt.
“Poking the bear, Jagger,” Grayson said under his breath.
“‘Lady’ is the last term I’d ever use in conjunction with Marjorie Jenkins,” Paisley said, “and that’s being kind.”
“Lee, bad-mouthing people doesn’t suit you,” Carter added.
“Don’t defend that piece of trash just because you belonged to the Marjorie-got-me-off club in high school, Will,” Morgan interjected, pulling a chair over to sit next to Paisley. “It wasn’t very selective.”
“Really, Morgan?” Carter flushed.
Morgan raised her eyebrows. “Don’t act all surprised. I don’t mind calling out truths, and I’m happy to ruffle your feathers.”
Carter fidgeted. Holy shit. She did ruffle him. Not in the pissed-off sense I usually saw, but in a more unsettled kind of way.
“Can we please stop discussing Marjorie Jenkins?” Paisley asked.
“Sure, as soon as you tell me why you had to drag her through the dirt,” Carter answered. “You’re better than that, Lee.”
My breath hissed out through my teeth.
“You know what?” She turned in his lap. “If you’ll kindly excuse me, I need some air.” She stood, taking her purse from the table.
“Lee—” Carter stood.
“Don’t you dare, William Carter.” She pointed her finger at him and marched out of the bar, the picture of gorgeous indignation.
“You dated her sister first?” Josh asked, his eyebrows arched.
Carter shook his head, and Morgan answered for him. “They never dated, but they were best friends. He and Lee got together last year after Peyton died.”
Her sister’s best friend. Pieces started clicking together in my head, and it wasn’t a pretty picture.