“I’m not old enough to buy my own alcohol. Are you?” she asked sweetly.
I was so glad I was here. The idea of this happening without me here to protect her made me ill.
Bethy clapped her hands like she was giddy with delight at the idea that Blaire was a complete innocent. “This is gonna be so much fun. And yes, I’m twenty-one, or at least my ID says I am.” She looked at me. “You need to let her out. I’m taking her to the bar.”
Like hell she was. I looked at Blaire, ignoring Bethy. “You’ve never had alcohol?” I asked, already knowing she hadn’t.
“Nope. But I intend to remedy that tonight,” she said with determination. Too damn sweet.
“Then you need to go slow. You won’t have a very high tolerance,” I explained, then turned to grab the arm of the waitress walking past us. I had to feed Blaire first. “We need a menu.”
“Why are you ordering food? We’re here to drink and dance with cowboys. Not eat,” Bethy said angrily.
She could f**k off. I wasn’t going to let her hurt Blaire. Drinking could hurt her if not done right. If Bethy wanted to argue with me, then we were gonna have a problem. “She’s never drunk before. She needs to eat first, or she’ll be bent over puking her guts out and cursing you in two hours’ time.
Bethy waved her hand at me as if I were talking Chinese. “Whatever, Daddy Rush. I’m going to get me somethin’ to drink, and I’m getting her somethin’, too. So feed her fast.”
The waitress was back with the menu, so I took it and turned my attention back to Blaire. “Pick something. No matter what Diva the Drunk says, you need to eat first.”
Blaire nodded agreeably. She didn’t like the idea of getting sick, either. At least she was cautious. I was thankful for that much. Bethy, not so much. I didn’t like her getting close to Bethy.
“The cheese fries look good,” Blaire said almost too quietly.
I wasn’t going to waste time. Bethy had left for drinks, and I wanted the food in Blaire fast. I motioned the waitress over. “Cheese fries, two orders, and a tall glass of water,” I told her.
She nodded and hurried off. I felt better knowing food was coming. And that I was going to watch her eat. It was screwed up that I wanted to watch, but the peanut-butter-sandwich thing was f**king with my head.
“So you’re at a honky-tonk. Was it everything you hoped it would be? Because I’ll be real honest, this music is painful,” I said, leaning back and looking at Blaire. I hadn’t really paid attention to the country music since we’d walked inside. I had been more concerned with getting Blaire food.
She shrugged and looked around us. “I just got here, and I haven’t drunk or danced yet, so I’ll let you know after that happens.”
She wanted to dance? Fantastic. “You want to dance?”
“Yes, I do. But I need a shot of courage first, and I need someone to ask me to dance,” she said.
“I thought I just asked,” I said. I wanted to be the one who held her during those slow country songs. Not some drunk cowboy.
Blaire leaned forward and put her elbows on the table, then propped her chin up on her hands before looking over at me. “You think that’s a good idea?”
I didn’t have to ask her why she would think it wasn’t. We both knew what happened when we touched or got too close. I lost control. She wanted a friend. Nothing more from me. She was smart. “Probably not,” I admitted.
She nodded.
The waitress slid the cheese fries in front of us, along with a mug of water that was nice and frosted. Blaire quickly reached for a fry and took a bite.
I couldn’t keep from smiling. “That’s better than peanutbutter sandwiches, isn’t it?” I asked. She grinned and nodded, picking up another fry. I wasn’t going to be able to eat. She was too damn fascinating.
“I figured I should start you out easy,” Bethy said, sliding back into her side of the booth. “Tequila is a big-girl drink. You’re not ready for that yet. This is a lemon drop. It’s sweet and yummy.”
Shit. She was bringing her shots. What was wrong with beer? Girls always went for those sweet shots and ended up trashed so damn fast. “Eat a few more fries first,” I encouraged Blaire.
She didn’t argue with me. I watched her eat a couple more, and then she reached for the lemon drop. “OK, I’m ready,” she said, smiling at Bethy. They picked up their drinks together and put them to their lips. I watched as Blaire tipped her head back and drank the too-sweet liquid. She was going to like it. I didn’t know how I could handle a drunk Blaire.
“Eat,” I said when her eyes met mine over the glass.
She pressed her lips together, and then a giggle broke free. She was laughing at me now. One f**king drink, and she was giggling.
“I met some guys at the bar,” Bethy told her while eating her fries. “I pointed you out, and they’ve been watching us since I sat down. You ready to make a new friend?”