Turning sideways she only noticed a slight swell in her abdomen. When pregnant with Cord and Colby she hadn’t started showing until five months.
Too bad she couldn’t knock back a shot of whiskey to calm her nerves. She slipped off her wedding rings and headed to the car.
The Silver Spur had a decent amount of cars in the parking lot for a Thursday night. Carson’s rig was parked up front. As if he’d been there a while.
Her heart raced as she sauntered in, but she held her head high. The normal buzz of anticipation filled the smoky air as the band tuned up. She hadn’t been in here in ages and scored a spot at the end of the bar, within view of the back room. Standing on tiptoe, she saw a hatted head in the last booth, but with the amount of cowboy hats in Wyoming it could be anyone.
The bartender stopped in front of her. “What can I get you tonight, beautiful?”
“How about a whiskey Coke—hold the whiskey.”
He grinned. “Comin’ right up.”
Carolyn didn’t study the people to see if she’d recognize anyone. She leaned an elbow on the bar and checked out the space, as if it was the first time she’d been in.
“Here’s your drink, darlin’.”
She tried to pay him but he waved her money off. “You’re doin’ me a favor by classing this place up.”
Two minutes later the first guy approached her. “You new to town?” he asked. “Because I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“You sure?”
“I’da remembered a fox like you.”
She smiled. “You spend much time at the Spur?”
“More than I should, probably.” He sipped his beer. “What’s your name, pretty lady?”
“Sugar,” she lied. “What’s yours?”
“Tater.”
“Interesting name. Are you from around here, Tater?”
“Yep. But I’m on the road a lot.”
“Oh. Are you a truck driver?”
“Nope. I’m a rodeo cowboy.”
Carson’s choice words about the guys who ran the circuit jumped into her head and she affected an awed look—totally fake—not that the guy noticed. “For real? What’s your specialty?”
“Ropin’.” Then he launched into an explanation of the strategy involved that was complete crap.
Carolyn saw movement in the back room. Carson stood to let the dark-haired home-wrecker out of his side of the booth.
The band launched into “Your Cheatin’ Heart”.
How appropriate.
Despite the rage boiling her blood, she managed a calm, “Tater, I feel like dancing.” It’d been a couple of years since Carson had taken her out. Since before Colby had been born.
“Anything you want, darlin’.” He reached for her left hand—it felt weird not only to have her ring finger bare, but to hold another man’s hand besides Carson’s.
Tater didn’t smash her body to his or let his hands wander. He was all about the dancing, performing all sorts of twists and fancy turns, dips and double twists. By the time they returned to the end of the bar, she was thirsty.
“Need another?” the bartender asked her.
“Water would be great.”
“And a Coors,” Tater said.
The bartender sent him a dirty look. “You oughten be here tonight, Glanzer. Shouldn’t you be home with your family?”
“Not your business. Just hurry up with the damn drinks.”
Okay. That was rude. And what did the bartender mean that Tater should be home with his family? Was he married with kids? Good Lord. Maybe this bar had become the place to openly cheat on your wife. When Carolyn caught him salivating over her cle**age, she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest.
The band launched into another tune and couples headed for the dance floor.
“You’re a good dancer, Sugar.”
“Thanks. So are you. You have all kinds of moves I’ve never seen.”
Tater leaned in, his eyes zeroed in on her br**sts. “I have more moves than that. I’d love to show you the best ones. Course, those are done horizontally.”
And…they weren’t talking about dancing. Her cheeks flamed and she looked down. But her gaze landed on his gigantic buckle.
“Like what you see down there?”
Her head snapped up.
He laughed, as if he’d caught her checking out his crotch.
The bartender slid her drink over and handed Tater a bottle.
Carolyn was trying to come up with something that’d make Tater leave when someone pushed into her from behind, sending her careening into Tater. The glass crashed to the floor but not before water soaked her front side. It seemed everyone in the bar had turned around to look at them.
“Damn. Are you all right?”
She glanced up when Tater brushed droplets from her chest. Why was his other hand gripping her butt cheek? There wasn’t water back there.
“Get your f**king hand off my wife’s ass right f**king now.”
Tater released her immediately. “Wife? What the hell is goin’ on here?”
Carson was right in Tater’s face. “Yes, she’s my wife. Touch her again and I’ll rip your f**kin’ arms out of the sockets. Understand?”
“Sugar, you shoulda told me you were married. Not that I blame you for bein’ out lookin’ for something better, since this guy is an ass**le.”
“Shut your mouth,” Carson snapped.