Wasted On You Excerpt
Book Four : The Bridgestones Of Montana
Chapter one
Mike Paul woke up in the dark. His head ached, his tongue was ten times too big, and his eyes felt as if they were held open by toothpicks.
“Shit,” he muttered, blinking rapidly in an effort to get his bearings. Where the hell was he?
He half stumbled to his feet, banged his knee against something hard and swore a blue streak as he made his way forward, arms waving like a zombie. He found a wall. And a light switch, then groaned and rested his head against the wall. After a few moments the room stopped spinning, so he flipped the switch, and slid open one eye. He spied a picture of a horse on the wall to his right. It looked like Shank, his first quarter horse. Then he turned a bit and saw a desk. The one he’d just banged his knee on.
Okay. This was good. He knew where he was. Though how in hell he’d gotten to his office was anyone’s guess. His memory was as fuzzy as his damn tongue. The last thing he remembered was tying one on at the Sundowner.
Mike Paul waited until his head stopped swimming, then yanked opened the door. He slowly made his way past reception, and out into a cold winter’s night. He didn’t feel the chill even though he only wore a T-shirt and jeans, though he supposed that was on account of the alcohol in his system. He wanted water, a mouthful of aspirin and bed.
Bleary eyed he walked through drifts of snow, not noticing the truck parked behind his Dodge. His neck ached like a son of a bitch, and his guts rolled precariously. Shit, he hadn’t been sick off booze in years. Not since his college days. It was a lame move on his part, and he grimaced as he took one step up onto the porch. He grabbed the railing and was about to take another when his front door swung open bathing him in a swath of light that blinded him.
“What the hell?” he said, trying to see past all the stars that danced in front of his eyes.
“You look like shit.” Millie Sue Bridgestone, his best friend and all-around pain in the ass sounded pissed off.
“I feel worse,” he managed to say before dragging his butt the rest of the way up and staggering past her into his home. His dogs, two of them, Wiener and Bun, nearly knocked him over with wet noses, wetter tongues and way too much enthusiasm for…
“What time is it?”
“Six o’clock.”
“It’s nighttime, right?”
Millie Sue raised an eyebrow. The left one, which meant she wasn’t amused.
“Shit what day is it?”
“Seriously?” The eyebrow inched higher.
“Seriously.”
“Jesus, Mike Paul. It’s Sunday night.” Millie Sue walked past him. “Follow me.”
Like a duckling following its mama, he walked behind her to the kitchen, then grabbed a stool at the counter. He propped up his body with his elbows on the table and rested his head in his palms. The dogs, thank God, knew enough to leave him alone and ran over to their beds by the back door where they proceeded to happily lick their balls.
Lucky bastards.
“Take these.” Millie Sue handed him three white tablets and a big glass of water. Once he downed them he heaved a sigh and shook his head.
“I don’t remember last night.”
“Really,” she said, her tone conversational as she pulled up a chair. “You don’t remember hopping on stage and grabbing the mike off Sam, who by the way was in the middle of his signature song.”
“Hotel California?”
“That would be the one.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”
Millie Sue ignored him and made a face. “You belted out, ‘there’s a tear in my beer’ and followed that up with ‘Your Cheatin’ Heart’. And honey, you can’t carry a tune to save your life.”
He groaned. “Why did you let me do that, Mills?”
“I tried to stop you. It was hard to watch. Like a trainwreck coming at you with mass casualties.”
“The main one being my pride.”
“That definitely took a hit. Especially when Ivy and Kip showed up.”
“They did?” Mike Paul yanked his head up so fast he thought it would explode. “I don’t remember that.”
“Clearly.”
“What did I do?”
“I don’t think I can talk about it yet.”
“That bad?”
Her expression was pained. “Let’s just say it took Cal, Taz, and Dallas to diffuse the situation. And if you were anyone but one of my best friends, you’d be banned from the Sundowner.” Millie Sue sighed and sat back. “You’ve really screwed this up, you know that right?”
Mike Paul stared at his hands and noticed bruises on his right knuckles. It was about that time he realized that his hand hurt like a son of a bitch. He scowled. “Who’d I hit? Kip Lafferty?” he asked, eyebrows raised hopefully.
“You wish.”
“Then who?”
“The wall.”
“Oh.”
“It was an inch from Kip’s head.”
Huh. An inch. He’d been close.
“Which is when everything went to shit, and the boys had to step in.”
“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head because it hurt, and because he wasn’t sorry. Not by a longshot. Hell, the only thing he was sorry about was the fact his aim had been so damn bad.
Millie Sue reached for his hand. “I know you are.”
“I can’t believe she’s with that guy.” How in hell had things gotten to this? “Last year we…that night we…” He raised his head. “It was really good what we had. The best.”
“Then why did you let her slip through your fingers? Why did you act like it was just another notch on your belt?”
“I didn’t.” Pissed he nailed Millie Sue with a look. “I never treated her like that. I was just confused is all. I didn’t know how to react. I’ve never felt like that before.”
“Like what exactly?”
In a mood he glared out the window into the darkness. That night with Ivy Wilkens had been passionate, tender and so damn right it had scared the ever-lovin’ crap out of him. He couldn’t shake her off. Couldn’t forget. Hell, he hadn’t been with another woman since, and if any of his buddies knew he’d been celibate for almost a year they’d think he’d lost all of his faculties.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. Heck, he’d tried more than once. Cherish Davis was usually a no brainer. He’d gotten her home, they’d got down to business and he’d ended up with a case of limp dick. Made worse by the fact he couldn’t blame it on booze (though he had, because hell he had his pride). He’d been stone cold sober. He didn’t want anyone but Ivy.
Maybe he was ruined for life.
“Mike Paul?” Millie Sue banged her knee against his. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“It was perfect. Everything about it. Like she was only meant for me. Like we were supposed to be a thing. A together thing.” He winced. “Shit, I sound like a bad romance novel.”
“You would do well to read one of those now and again. It might up your game.”
“What the hell am I going to do?”
“I don’t know,” she replied softly. “But you can’t do this again. Fall apart, act out. That isn’t you.”
“Is she gone?”
Millie Sue got up and refilled his water. “No.”
He finished the glass then got to his feet, a little unsteadily, but made it over to the sink without any issues. He held the glass under the faucet and once he’d downed two more, set it on the counter and turned back to Millie Sue.
“I should apologize.”
“You might want to wait on that. Give her a chance to calm down.”
“It was that bad.” It wasn’t a question and when Millie Sue nodded, he hung his head and swore. “What am I going to do?”
“I think an apology is good.” Millie Sue winced. “Eventually. And then you need to leave her alone.”
Auburn hair. Tangled sheets. Slim legs wrapped around his waist. Christ, he couldn’t shake the images.
And it wasn’t just about the sex, which had been next level. It was about the moments after. She was funny. Smart. He got her sarcasm, and she got his humor. They could talk about anything. And the woman liked the Lord of The Rings more than he did.
She was perfect.
Ivy Wilkens had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. He could still picture her that first day of kindergarten when she’d shown up wearing glasses that made her eyes look ten times bigger than they were, an orange dress that drowned her slim frame, mismatched knee socks, and two ponytails that stuck straight out the sides of her head. Harry Miller had made fun of her glasses, and instead of crying like a baby, she’d punched him in the nose and broke it. Mike Paul and his buddy Cal, impressed by this little whip of a girl, had immediately decided they’d be pals, and after that they’d been inseparable. Millie Sue had come along and the four of them became closer than family.
And now he’d gone and fucked things up. He should stay out of Ivy’s lane. Give her space. And yet…
“I can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t give her up.” He frowned and really thought about what that meant. And the more he thought about that, the more he knew just how dire his situation was. “I won’t give her up.”
Millie Sue took a step forward, alarmed. “What do you mean?”
He looked at his friend and swallowed, wondering if he could say the words that had crept into his head when he wasn’t looking.
“I…” Mike Paul exhaled and then everything went quiet. “I love her.”
Millie Sue didn’t look as surprised as he thought she’d be, though the alarm on her face hadn’t gone away. In fact, it looked ramped up. “What are you going to do?” The question was asked warily, as if she were afraid of the answer.
Mike Paul tried to think past all the throbbing in his head and his hand. He ran fingers over his bruised and swollen knuckles. His brain was slow, he needed a minute. He walked past Millie Sue and when Wiener and Bun ran over, he bent over and gave each of them a scratch.
The dogs had come to him a few years earlier, in bad shape. They’d been physically abused, starved and neglected. It had taken a lot to earn their trust, but he’d persevered because it mattered. To him. To his soul.
It hit him then—the answer—because it was literally the only thing he could do. Slowly he turned back to Millie Sue, who still watched him from a few feet away.
“I’m going to win her over,” he declared, thrusting his chin up, which in fact made his head ache even more. The ground swayed beneath his feet, but he managed to keep himself on them. “Make her see that I’m the only guy for her.”
“She’s wearing Kip Lafferty’s ring.”
“Kip Lafferty can kiss my ass.” He scowled. “Just because they’re engaged doesn’t mean they’ll get married.”
“It means they’re more than just friends.”
“We’re more than just friends.”
“You might have been more than just friends at one point. And I get that you want to repair your relationship with Ivy, but I don’t think the romantic way is going to work.”
“You’re wrong.”
Millie Sue’s eyes softened. “They’ve already picked a date.”
“What?” His mouth fell open. He was shocked. “But they…she’s only just met him.”
What in the actual hell?
“When?”
Millie Sue looked away and he took a step toward her, grimacing at the slice of pain that went through his head. He was never drinking again.
“New Year’s Eve.”
He let those words percolate and then made a face. “A lot can happen in a year.”
Millie Sue slowly shook her head. “This New Year’s Eve. She told us after you left Thanksgiving dinner at Cal’s.”
Mike Paul sat down. It was either that or fall on his ass and no way was he doing that in front of Millie Sue. He stared down at the floor, anger and regret so damn thick he couldn’t speak.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “Let me know if you need anything. There’s a pot of coffee ready to go and more pain meds on the counter. Tom was over earlier and fed the animals in the barn. I made sure Wiener and Bun have food and water. I don’t know where the cat is and I’d stay but I need to nurse Josh.”
“Go,” he replied, his throat so dry he barely got the word out. “I’ll be fine.”
She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand. “I don’t need a sermon or a pep talk.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
She gave him a small hug and left.
Mike Paul didn’t know how long he sat, staring out the window into the dark. But it was long enough for his head to make it abundantly clear he needed more water. He downed an additional extra strength tablet, then started to think.
Then he thought some more.
And by the time he was done with all that thinking he had a plan. It wasn’t a good one. Not even close. But it would have to do.
Mike Paul was going to pull the stunt of the century. He was going to make Ivy Wilkens fall in love with him. While engaged to Kip Lafferty. In under six weeks.
“Fuck me,” he muttered hoarsely, knowing it was the only way.
He’d get it done.
Or die trying.
