“Yeah, yeah,” Hazel cuts her off, shoving a shot glass into my hand. She leans in, dropping her voice. “We asked the bartender for gluten-free. It’s 100% agave.”
“Thank you,” I say, voice a little rough.
“Don’t hog her, Hazy!” Gemma cries, shoving her sister back. “And don’t hog the tequila. I’m starving.”
Hazel rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling softly. “Then we should get food, not alcohol.”
Gemma waves a hand through the air with a scoff and snatches a shot off the table. “Only thing I’m craving is the bliss of forgetting all my problems.”
“Same,” Hazel mutters.
Getting blissfully drunk and forgetting the chaotic emotions whirling through me non-stop sounds damn good right now, so I nod. “Agreed.”
We clink our glasses together and tip our shots back. Before I’ve even swallowed, another one is thrust at me.
“Is this a hazing?” I choke out, eyes blurring from the burn.
Gemma cackles and passes me a bowl of sliced limes before coating her hand in salt. “Nope. It’s just good form.”
I suck on a lime to cleanse my palate, but skip the salt. We down the second shots. Mine hits like a punch to the esophagus. The Archer sisters don’t even flinch.
A waiter passes, and I quickly order a water, already worried that tonight’s going to wind up with me on my ass before I’ve even settled in.
“Make that a round of water, Jimmy,” Hazel calls, swirling her finger in a circle that encompasses the table. “And another round of shots.” She arches a brow at me. “Can you drink beer or just the hard shit?”
I wince. “Straight tequila is all I feel safe drinking in bars.”
Though, I’m not sure I’m safe with Kade’s sisters at my side. At least not my pride and morals.
“You heard her,” she says to Jimmy. “Might as well bring the bottle.”
He shoots her a wink. “You got it, Haze.”
“Pretty sure if we split the bottle between us, you’ll be carting me to the nearest hospital,” I say with a nervous laugh.
Gemma smirks, tipping her chin. “Good thing we’re not alone then.”
I glance up just as three women saunter to the table and climb into the seats across from us.
“This is Loretta,” Hazel says, pointing to an older woman in a leopard-print blouse holding a drink that’s more garnish than liquor. “She keeps us in line, unless she’s instigating.”
“Which is most of the time,” Loretta adds, her voice gravely and her smirk knowing. “And I don’t apologize for it either.”
Hazel gestures to a tall brunette with stunning eyes and a dark green hat that looks like Gemma’s. “That’s Shay. She’s scary good at poker and will probably try to steal your boyfriend someday.”
Shay jerks a nod in greeting and chuckles. “I get bored easily.”
“And this—” Hazel waves to a blonde in a red dress and cowboy boots—“is Emmy. She’s a menace.”
“Only on Fridays.” Emmy winks and twirls a straw between her lips.
“It’s Saturday,” Loretta chides, glaring at the row of empty shot glasses between us. “You drunk already, Emmaline?”
Emmy shoots her a harsh look but it softens when she stumbles. “Don’t call me that unless you want me to find a biker chick to kick your ass again.”
Shay and Hazel fall into a fit of laughter but Loretta scoffs, flicking Emmy between the eyes. “That bitchtriedto kick my ass.Trybeing the key word.”
Gemma sighs, propping her chin on her fist. She’s smiling, but there’s a sad look in her eyes. Like longing, but somehow deeper, more broken. “I’ve missed this place. I’ve missed all of you.”
