Maisey Yates - One Night Charmer

“It’s about a guy,” she said, feeling her own subject change like a bad case of whiplash.

It was so strange to feel tongue-tied and clumsy around a man, around anyone. She didn’t usually. She was going to put it down to her weird mood and the intoxication.

“I figured. Girls like you don’t have a lot of problems bigger than that. Except maybe a broken nail.”

Annoyance spiked through her. “Please. If I was the type to worry about a broken nail I would hardly have gotten onto the back of your mechanical bull. I might be spoiled, I’m not going to deny that. But I’m also a barrel racer. I’ve been riding horses since before I could walk. I don’t exactly sit at home with my hair in curlers planning my next shopping spree.”

He chuckled. A real laugh. “Point taken.”

“Anyway. I’m just upset because... You know, sometimes people aren’t what they seem to be. And then you just wonder... If you’re a gigantic idiot. If you really shouldn’t be allowed to cross the street by yourself because you can’t tell that someone’s a bad guy after spending... All that time with him... How can you ever be confident you know anyone?” Her throat tightened, emotion flooding her. She had no control right now, and she hated it. She was used to being able to put on a flawless show no matter what was going on inside of her.

She’d been dumped by her boyfriend junior year—her first boyfriend. First kiss, first everything—right before one of the big games in Autzen Stadium, and she’d managed to parade right in there with her group of girlfriends, a huge smile plastered on her face. She’d even done a little happy dance for the Jumbotron that had made it onto national TV. A big chipper eff-you to the man who’d broken things off with her.

She didn’t let people see her sweat. She didn’t let them see her cry. They thought her life was easier because she let them think so.

But it was all falling apart now.

“You can’t ever totally know people,” Ace said, something in his tone dark now. “People are liars. And they do what makes them happy. They serve themselves. So, of course they lie to you. For a month, for a year. They may not even know they’re lying to you, not until something comes up that means they have to protect their own asses. They’ll forget everything they ever told you to keep themselves happy. That’s people. Sorry you’re having to deal with it.”

Ace’s words were so hard, so desperately cynical. Not the kind of words she would ever have guessed would come from the friendly neighborhood bartender.

“So, you think that’s everybody?”

“I can’t test this theory on everybody. It’s even tough to prove with one person. You would have to live with someone for a hell of a long time and never have it go to hell to prove otherwise. No one in my life has ever lasted that long.”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes, and she felt like an even bigger idiot. Getting emotional not just for herself, but for some guy she didn’t even know. “That’s really sad.”

“Not really. It’s just life.”

“So that means you don’t even feel bad about it? About the fact that people are just a bunch of lying tool bags? I feel pretty bad about it.”

“You’ll get over it.”

His words made her feel hollow. Not just her, the world around her. The ground. The sky. Like all the substance, the very foundation, was gone. “What if I don’t?”

“Then it’s going to be a hard road for you. Though you know what? It won’t actually be that hard. You’ve got a lot of money to catch you when you fall. You’ve got your family.”

Except she didn’t. She had walked away. But he wouldn’t understand that, and he wouldn’t believe it.

Silence descended on the cab like a plague of locusts. Oppressive. Heavy. She wanted to think of something to say, and she didn’t want to say anything to him ever again. It was a minefield. He had all the wrong answers. Everything she didn’t want to hear.

“Aren’t bartenders supposed to be encouraging? Aren’t you supposed to smile and nod and say what everybody needs you to say?”

After feeling like she would sit in resolute silence, the words came as a surprise even to her.

“Sorry. I’m out from behind the bar. You use me as a designated driver and you get my honest opinion. People tend not to like my opinions.”

She didn’t believe that was true. Trying to think back on every event she’d ever vaguely circled around him at, she really didn’t believe it was true. If she was sorting through her thoughts correctly, he had a good reputation. He was a nice guy. He showed up at every charity event her family was ever involved in. He provided free drinks, in exchange for publicity of course, but still, he did it at considerable expense to himself.

She remembered about a year and a half ago when the community had come together to rebuild Connor Garrett’s barn. Ace had been there then. Not just helping to rebuild, but providing refreshments.

He was usually smiling.

She wondered where that guy was now.

Maybe he just doesn’t like giving people rides home at one in the morning.

That was fair. Anyone could be grumpy. She was most definitely off her game, so why shouldn’t it be the same for him?

His life was so much simpler than hers anyway. What he had, he had outright, free and clear. He owned a bar, and it was his domain. He did what he wanted to with it. He was able to help people with it. He was high-profile in the community, but he had a certain measure of freedom with it. There was all kinds of acceptance for what he did, no matter what. He had a reputation for sleeping with anything that moved, but it didn’t seem to damage him.

Yeah, he basically had it made. So for all he could say about the evils of people, she’d never seen any evidence that it had touched him.

And it made her think back to his earlier comment about her breaking a nail. How easy he seemed to think things were for her. How soft he seemed to think she was, and it made her angry. He didn’t know. He had no idea.

He turned the truck onto a narrow, paved driveway, the one that led back to her brother’s ranch.

If she was going to say the words that were bubbling up inside of her like boiling water, she had to say them now. And she wanted to. Maybe because she was feeling bold due to the alcohol. But maybe because it was just the right thing to say. Maybe because he needed to hear it.

“Things are easy for you, though,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“You said my road wouldn’t be that hard, but you’re the one who has it made. You’re a man. A man everyone just kind of gives a pass to. It doesn’t matter what you do. Everyone just kind of accepts it. You can say whatever you want. Like now. You’re giving me a ride home, after being totally condescending. And you don’t even care. Me? I have to watch what I say. I have to... I have to keep up appearances for the family name. You burned that bridge a long time ago. Aren’t you like...a pastor’s kid? And you own a bar now. But if anything, people just kind of laugh at it. How funny, your dad preaches sermons on Sunday to everyone who’s hungover from being at Ace’s place on Saturday night.”

“You can stop talking now, Sierra West,” he said, his tone deadly now. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You don’t know my life.”

“Maybe not. But you don’t know mine. And you were more than ready to cast judgment on me, Mr. World-Weary, I-Know-People. You think you know me, but you don’t. Maybe nobody does.”

He laughed, and it grated against her skin. It was derisive. Unkind. “Trust me, baby, everybody thinks that. Everybody thinks they’re so unknowable, so complicated. But they aren’t. People are just people, you included. You don’t have any hidden depth to awe and astound me.”