Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Evvie,” the man said in a deep, gravelly voice. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.”
“I could say the same to you,” Evan said, his face lighting up in a big smile as he swiveled around to face the guy. “Cal, I want you to meet my best friend, Mitch. Mitch, Cal is the resident lumberjack around here.”
“Pleasure,” Cal said, holding out a big hand to shake mine. He was wearing one of the Red’s Tavern shirts, the one that said Tavern Tease and had an illustration of a cowboy hat on the back.
“So you’re the one who was making Evan show up here in a tizzy every night last week?” Cal said.
“Stop,” Evan responded. “I was not here every night.”
“Sure, you missed Monday, and that’s because you had to work late.”
Evan shoved Cal at his hip, and I felt another pang of jealousy.
“Come play a round of pool with us,” Cal said, nodding over to a girl setting up a pool table.
Evan met my eyes, looking up at me from under his lashes. “You want to?” he asked.
That statement made my dick perk up for some reason. There was always something sexy about Evan, even though it felt strange to say that about another guy. Evan’s eyes were that special kind of inviting. Every time I looked at him I wanted to keep lingering on him.
“I mean, if you want to get your ass whooped in a few rounds of pool, I’m definitely down to play,” I said, looking at Cal and then back to Evan. “We used to be kind of a dream team.”
Evan blushed a little as he got out of his seat and we headed over.
It was a total bluff, of course, and Evan knew it. When we’d played pool in his basement growing up, we’d never had the right amount of balls, never had chalk, never had a properly clean table. It had just been fun. But right now, I felt like I had something to prove.
Cal introduced me to his friend Nikki and we played the first round quickly. It was neck and neck for the whole game, but Evan and I squeaked out a win at the end. It was past midnight now, but Red’s was just getting started. I sent Zach a few texts, making sure he was okay at home, and he said he was going to play a few more rounds of his game before sleeping.
I was comfy staying at Red’s for at least a little while longer.
The people who owned, operated, and came to this place knew how to have a fucking good time. For so long I’d thought Amberfield would be the boring, nowhereville town that I remembered from when I was a teenager, but Red’s was more fun than any place I’d ever been in Chicago. You didn’t have to be gay to appreciate how at home everyone seemed to be here. There was a man wearing peacock feathers dancing with three women, all dressed in ball gowns, in the corner.
I glanced over at the jukebox and suddenly was struck with an idea.
“What was the song that cost ten dollars to play?” I asked Evan. His eyes shot up to meet mine, along with Cal’s and Nikki’s.
“Oh, don’t do it,” Nikki said.
“What are you talking about?” Cal asked. “He should definitely do it. The song is Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
“You might regret it, Mitch,” Evan said, but I could see a smile creeping over his face as I made my way to the jukebox.
“Sure hope Red doesn’t hate this song and fire me,” I said, feeding a ten-dollar bill into the machine.
“Hate it?” Cal asked. “Hell no. Red loves it. Prepare to see a cowboy go wild.”
As soon as the opening lines of the song started, I heard a whoop from behind the bar. Red had his hand up in the air, and Sam and Grace were already laughing.
In another moment, I watched as Red stripped off his T-shirt and reached under the bar, unearthing a white cowboy hat. He popped it on his head and then stood up on top of the bar, tipping his hat to everyone in the room before he began to dance.
And fuck, did that man know how to dance to this Def Leppard song. I would have never taken Red to be a dancer, but he bucked his hips and sang along to every line, while everyone in the bar looked on and started to clap along. One particularly rowdy group of people even stuffed some dollar bills into his waistline.
“Holy shit,” I said to Evan, who was smiling wide next to me.
“Told you you’d regret it.”
“I don’t at all,” I said. “He does this every time?”
“Every single time,” Evan said with a nod. “Red’s usually a more serious guy, but this song gets him going.”