Redneck Romeo (The Culture Blind Book 1) Read online

  With beers comfortably in one hand, we raise our other, preparing to down another round of shots as a group.

  This time it’s Sam who declares what to acknowledge. “To new adventures!”

  Our cups tap together again, and I toss back the shot, secretly praying it gives the same moment of reprieve the last one did.

  Cody collectively gathers the empty cups, unbothered by the chore.

  My guess is he’s grateful to be occupied with something other than Cordie’s sexual, self-centered stories. She’s not throwing herself at him, which means she’s ignoring him because she spotted the wedding band on his hand. Married men aren’t typically her thing when there are available ones with less stress floating around.

  I glance over my shoulder to see Audrey’s sulking demeanor.

  She needed this vacation the most. Having your ex-husband decide to marry his new wife the weekend after you’re officially divorced is devastating enough without sprinkling on the fact it’s happening in your hometown, in front of a fraction of your family because they’ve been friends for generations, and you were the pair who legally linked them together. This trip is supposed to help her forget about the younger, fresh out of college version of herself her ex is marrying, not grow the feeling of being unwanted.

  “Audrey, right?” Dustin calls to her as if he had been eavesdropping on my thoughts.

  Her brown eyes widen in thrill, igniting the irrational urge to declare childish dibs on the hunk beside me.

  Unlike Cordie who spends a ridiculous amount of money and energy staying supermodel trim, Audrey is naturally thin. Her slightly above average height keeps her out of heels; though the way she typically hides her slim figure in loose jeans and Anime t-shirts, heels don’t exactly fit the ensemble. She’s got light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and the girl next door vibe men are anxious to marry. She’s polite. Too caring at times. Too forgiving at others. Her heart’s always in the right place, which makes her a total catch, something she’s managed to forget over the past couple of years.

  “Yeah,” she enthusiastically answers, pulling her brown hair to the side of her slender face. “And it’s Dustin?”

  “Yeah.”

  The simple exchange sends my plastic cup soaring to my lips in desperate need of a distraction.

  His tone remains casual. “This your first Cooper Copeland concert?”

  “No. My fourth.”

  “Mine too!”

  I have another swig of beer.

  They’re probably better matched than him and I would ever be. Chances are he’s from a small town just like her. He’s probably very family-oriented in the same aspect she is. They’re both country music fans who, I’d be willing to bet a hundred bucks, want the same type of barn yard wedding with the same trite song playing. Yep. I should do the right thing for both of them and step out of this equation. Even if it doesn’t end in muddy boots and marriage, at least it’ll get her mind off of her ex.

  Just as I prepare to slide out of the way, Dustin’s beer free hand lightly brushes my arm. “What about you, Carly? This your first Cooper Copeland concert?”

  “It is.” I push down the moan that tried to tie itself to my answer. “My first country music concert period.”

  He grows an inquisitive look. “Not a fan?”

  “New fan!” Audrey blurts out. “Over the past year I’ve introduced her to Cooper, Blake Shelton, Ben Mar, and a few of the classics, like Locke and Hank Williams Jr.”

  Introduced is a gross misuse of the word. Tortured. She tortured me by playing them over and over again between bottles of wine and heartbreaking hysterical cries about her ex. Eventually, I got past them just being background noise and found appreciation for most of it.

  “I grew up listenin’ to Locke and Hank!” His excitement meets hers, nudging me once again to step away from the situation. “’Red Dirt Road’ and ‘Muddy Creek Getaway’, all-time favorites from Locke!”

  “Oh my God! Mine too!”

  “Cody played me ‘There’s a Tear in My Beer’ first time I got dumped.”

  “Most definitely an appropriate break up song.”

  My body motions to move when his hand gently grasps my elbow to stop me. “You know any of those songs?”

  “Um…no.”

  His smirk tilts. “You will.”

  Unsure of how to reply, I keep my lips pressed tightly together, and my tumbling thoughts tucked away.

  “But you do like Cooper?” Dustin’s question is directed at me.

  “She definitely likes the looks of him,” Audrey giggles between sips of her beer.

  The alcohol must be kicking in for her. She gets too informative and too honest when liquor is flowing through her. This is rarely beneficial, though it did pave a path for some hilarious bedroom confessions about her ex. I’ll never be able to hear baby goats the same way again.

  Dustin’s jaw clenches yet he forces himself to smile. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “It helps,” I tease, loving the flare his glare takes. “But no. I really do like his music. He has a way of making you feel welcomed to country living even if you’ve never stepped foot outside the city.”

  His grin grows soft. “I like that.”

  Our stares unite and our bodies helplessly gravitate towards one another.

  What is happening to me? Why is his accent turning me into some adolescent school girl with no regard for rational or responsible actions? It is blatantly obvious the appropriate pairing here! Why can’t I just bow out? Why can’t I make a clever excuse to bail so they can actually flirt? Why do I loathe the idea of them being together like Dustin and I are lovers from another lifetime finally finding each other again?

  “Why don’t you ladies slip in front of us? Give you a better view of the show.” Dustin’s offer makes Audrey squeal. “It’s not that much closer, but at least with us behind you there’s no reason to worry about people tryin’ to push past y’all to get a better view.”

  There’s no time for a rebuttal. The crowd bursts into screams as Cooper’s band begins to take the stage. Audrey and Cordie bolt into the small empty space in front of the guys and join the audience who are frantically waving their cup free hands around. I slink directly in front of him, glance over my shoulder and mouth, “Thank you.”

  His smile threatens to stop my heart beat. He mouths, “You’re welcome.”

  Opening notes to one of Cooper’s biggest hits pours out of the speakers and my eyes dart to the stage where the cowboy Casanova himself is strolling out. We all give him the loudest, most enthusiastic welcome we possibly can. He snatches the microphone off the stand, and the pyrotechnics add to the impact of the first words that fly off his tongue. The energy of the crowd instantly amplifies as he makes his way around the edges of the stage to touch fans’ hands. Anxious to capture this moment, I pull my phone out of my dress pocket, and use my free hand to pull up the camera. I do everything in my power to grab a few shots of Cooper worth keeping. Unfortunately, being almost half a foot shorter than most of the crowd in front of me proves to be problematic even with a zoom button.

  Defeat whispers convincingly for me to concede, yet Dustin’s voice against my ear banishes it. “Want me to take the picture?”

  I glance up at him and eagerly nod.

  He winks, hands me his half empty cup, and takes my phone.

  Effortlessly, he clicks the button over and over again, trapping these precious memories at the same time thoughtlessly creating more. He lowers the device back to me and swipes back through them looking for verification that they meet my standards. After receiving a nod, he drops one hand to my hip while using the other to gracefully slide my phone back into my pocket. The feeling of his body pressed firmly against mine, shuts my eyes and gives me an entire new reason to hum. Despite the fact one of the most popular names in current country music is crooning, commanding the crowd’s complete attention, I give mine to the irresistible man still holding onto me.

  Hot brea
th hits my ear for a second time. “I won’t let go if you don’t want me to, baby.”

  My heavy lids lift to allow our gazes to lock.

  His stare is swarming with hope and hints of apprehension.

  I make matches for a living. I know when two people should explore their connection and when it would be wiser for both to look elsewhere. I’ve spent years honing my natural ability to read a situation before it’s had time to start and perfecting the ability to calculate the probabilities on paper as well. I’ve been trained to connect the dots. Link the obvious. Prevent people from wasting their time on pointless conquests, yet here I am, ignoring the signs that point our lives in opposite directions. Turning a blind eye to the facts and figures that have easily been outlined to demonstrate what a disaster even something like a temporary fling would be. Why can’t I shake this feeling that for the first time in my entire life love isn’t nearly as neat and tidy as I’ve been making it? Why is something right underneath the surface of my skin screaming at the top of its lungs “this man belongs to me”?

  With a sweet smirk, I offer him back his beer and provide my answer by simply leaning into his hold.

  Dustin doesn’t hesitate to grip me a bit tighter.

  Cooper’s first song ends and he cruises right into another well-known radio hit. The entire audience sings along at the top of its lungs. Cordie, Audrey, and I sassily sing to one another. We dance. We drink. We dance harder. Cooper drowns us in devotion to his craft and not a single person in the audience dares to resist. For almost two hours, we’re completely lost to the upbeat rhythms and swaying to the sultry tunes. While the girls and I occasionally take selfies to further commemorate our vacation, they are the only moments Dustin and I are parted. It’s as if our bodies took a silent vow of commitment to each other. Like lingering too far for too long would leave us both feeling forsaken. By the time Cooper’s introducing his final song of the night, both of Dustin’s arms are wound snuggly around my lower waist. His decision to ditch drinking beer to be closer to me was made much earlier in the performance. The possessive gesture not only turned me on, it finally got the matchmaker in me to shut the fuck up.

  “Considerin’ the fact it’s almost midnight, I can’t think of a more perfect song to play,” Cooper states into his microphone at the same time he begins to strum the opening notes.

  My eyes immediately dart to Audrey who looks on the verge of tears. Her neck is stiff. Her shoulders suspended in a somber slump. Her cup free fingers are folded firmly together. Seeing her body language do its best to shield her from displaying the pending pain pulls at my conscience.

  We should go. If we bail now it might save her some heartache or, at the very least, allow her to bawl in peace.

  I stretch my hand out and squeeze hers. “Wanna go? Get ahead of the crowd?”

  Her mouth twitches, ready to shout the obvious answer when it abruptly stops. She drags her eyes across the sight of me and slowly shakes her head. A mixture of longing and love fill her gaze before she directs her attention back to Cooper.

  She’s trying to give me what I was trying to give her earlier. Happiness. Even if it’s brief. This is what real best friends do. We lie on the sword so someone we love can live to have something we know they deserve. Many people think sacrifice of the sort is saved only for blood bonded relationships. They’re wrong. Very, very wrong.

  “Wanna go?” Cordie repeats the offer with a concerned expression.

  My smile grows in size at Cordie’s selfless act.

  She says the wrong shit about ninety-eight percent of the time, but occasionally, she flashes her humanity, reminding us she cares on a deeper level. That we matter to her as much as she matters to us.

  Audrey shakes her head again, eyes still pinned on Cooper.

  I rest my hands on top of Dustin’s arms, determined to enjoy each and every second possible. Someone else is surrendering their sanity simply to allow me a few more minutes in what feels like a newly discovered sanctuary, which means I need to appreciate it. He flexes tighter, equally as driven to idealize what we both know are our last moments together.

  Truthfully? We’re basically on borrowed time. Time granted to live outside the societal norms a real relationship is pressured to function under. Right now, we’re both away from home, though him much further than me. Under actual circumstances a romance between us couldn’t exist. We’re from completely different lifestyles. I don’t need a long drawn out conversation to draw that conclusion. The faded jeans from over washing means he’s frugal, only buying things like clothes when they’re absolutely needed. His gaudy oversized belt buckle is homage to the place he’ll most likely never leave for anything other than a vacation. The worn out shoes announce he’s on his feet more than he is ever off of them. And those obvious indications are just the tip of the iceberg. From the short dialog we did exchange, we’re unlikely to have anything to talk about other than country music. The grim reality is… outside of this little beautiful bubble we’ve lived in for two hours, nothing between us could actually be sustainable. Sadly, toe curling attraction isn’t enough to make even a valid first date work.

  Our hips sway together and I continue to secretly wish this could last forever.

  All of a sudden a fat rain drop lands between our closely lingering faces.

  Cooper chuckles into the microphone, “And now we have the rain! Sing along with me!”

  Dustin ignores the singer’s instructions. Instead he knocks his lips against mine stealing the shallow breath I had in the process. Regardless of the rain shower now washing over us, my entire body is set aflame. Overwhelming heat sears me from the inside out, turning my bones to ashes. Dustin’s hand grazes my cheek as our mouths slowly drag apart to grant our tongues a taste. The physical impact is small, but the emotional one is powerful enough to fracture my soul. Our tongues roll around and around until my lungs are begging for benevolence in the form of a single breath.

  The crowd’s eruption into shouts and applause separates our mouths but not our bodies. We remain absolutely still, attached in an inexplicable way on an unexpected level.

  What if I’m wrong? What if this isn’t just an escape from the tribulations of a mundane existence? What if…what if this is the opportunity for a chance to have so much more?

  Chapter Two

  Dustin

  I kept swearin’ to myself all night it was jus’ the beer. That was the bold face lie I kept repeatin’ long after I stopped orderin’ drinks. It was the only way I could make sense of what was happenin’ to me. What I was doin’. What I was feelin’…. Only alcohol makes a person forget everything else in their life like that. Or at least that’s what I thought ‘til my lips touched Carly’s. Afterwards I knew the buzz in my system wasn’t from the beer any more than the blur in my vision was from the rain. In a split second my whole world went from sensible to insane, leavin’ me with one unshakable feeling. We belong together.

  “Yeah, Cooper was great,” my older brother speaks from the other queen size bed in our resort room. “How are my girls? Includin’ you.”

  “They’re-”

  “Daddy! Daddy!” They squeak, overthrowing the conversation.

  “Lyndsey! Lacey!” He states back bringing a smile to my face.

  I roll my head to the side to grab a glance of Cody’s excited expression.

  He swears his sole purpose for livin’ is his girls. All three of ‘em. Lynette’s the moon and those girls are the stars. I used to make fun of him for settlin’ down with her so fast. They went from ninety to nothin’. One night he was fallin’ into bed with Tifani, our favorite bartender, and the next he was swearin’ to me he was in love. No exaggeration. The morning after he slept with Tifani he went into the next city over, Dalvegan, for a job interview with the fire department. Lynette was leavin’ the buildin’. She had just finished havin’ lunch with her older brother…the lieutenant. Needless to say he got the job; he got the girl, and uprooted his small town existence to replant
it in the big city. I swore ‘til I was blue in the face I’d never do that type of shit for anyone, especially not some woman. No, I swore the one whose finger would wear my ring would be happy livin’ off of old back roads and singin’ Waylon Jennings classics. Now? Now I’m pretty sure the woman I’m gonna marry doesn’t even know who that is.

  Carly’s brown skinned face slams back into my mind, and I shut my eyes to truly appreciate the vision she is. Woman’s like a classic restored Chevy with the way her body is round yet flawless. Her darker paint job not my natural go to, but one I can’t keep my eyes or hands off of. She’s smooth. Slick. Stunnin’. The woman shatters hearts without remorse when she smiles. Somethin’ inside of me says she either has no idea how sexy she is or she’s made a habit of not listenin’ when told.

  “…pool party,” the end of Cody’s sentence redirects my thoughts.

  That’s right. Part of the package includes pool side concerts with popular, but less well known artists playin’ acoustically. I wonder if that’s where I’ll catch Carly. Or maybe it’ll be on our way there. Or, maybe at one of the other pools? Will I have to spend the rest of my trip wanderin’ around this damn resort makin’ my own deals with fate or will it just unexpectedly deliver like it did last night? I thought she was kiddin’ when she suggested we simply let our paths naturally cross again, but then she was bein’ pulled out of my arms and towards the exit without the chance for an objection. I’ll find her again. I have to. I’m meant to.

  “Yup,” my big brother sighs. “Before y’all go, everyone tell Uncle Dusty mornin’.”

  He turns his cell towards me at the same time I snap my face his direction. “Morning Uncle Dusty!”

  “Mornin’!” I say back to the twins and their mother.

  “Keep my man out of trouble, Dusty,” Lynette playfully fusses.