Treat Me (One Night with Sole Regret #8) (2 page)

“That was before you were divorced,” Owen said. “You were legally and morally obligated to keep it in your pants and you didn’t.”

Shade rubbed his suddenly queasy belly. It always got tied in knots when the subject of his infidelity was broached. He still felt guilty about it. Tina had started accusing him of cheating long before he’d sought comfort in the arms of other women, but Owen was right. He should have divorced Tina
before
he’d succumbed to his weakness for a good piece of compliant ass. Tina had never been compliant—not even in the bedroom—and while her fire had been hot as Hell in the beginning, eventually it had burned him to ashes.

“Sorry,” Owen said after a long moment of silence. “Shouldn’t have brought that up.”

Shade shrugged, though his stomach was still clenching. Maybe he was just hungry. “Can’t change any of it.” And he couldn’t change the way he felt about Amanda either. Maybe they should just come out and tell Tina that they were getting serious.

Were they getting serious? He was leaning that way. However, he wasn’t so sure about Amanda’s feelings. He knew she liked him. They always had a good time together—and how could she resist his prowess in bed—but did she have deeper feelings for him? Was she willing to confront her sister and claim him as her lover or did she think he wasn’t worth the trouble their relationship would cause?

Owen pointed out the window. “I didn’t know they had cows in this part of the country. Stop the truck.”

“What?”

“They look bored.”

“Cows are supposed to be bored.”

“Just stop the truck.”

With a resigned sigh, Shade pulled the truck to a halt in a short gravel drive before a metal gate. Owen opened his door and hopped out.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shade asked as Owen opened the gate and entered the pasture with a small herd of bovines that watched him warily with large brown eyes as they chewed their cud.

“Bringing entertainment to the lives of these poor creatures.”

Shade pulled out his phone and readied his camera, certain that Owen was about to do something that required photographic evidence. While he was fiddling with the phone, he noticed that he had an alert that Adam was nearby. Shade no longer kept tabs on the guy—well, not as extensively as he had when Adam had been hooked on heroin—but it did make him smile to see his friend so close. He’d almost given up on pestering him about writing songs today, but maybe he could convince Adam to hang out with him and Owen.

Shade sent Adam several quick text messages—
hey
and
you busy
and
yo Adam
—before switching to camera mode and focusing on Owen. He wasn’t sure what had Owen up to his typical antics, but it probably had something to do with Shade’s undeniably foul mood. Owen couldn’t stand it when his companions weren’t happy.

“Here, Bessie,” Owen said, pulling a tuft of grass out by the roots and approaching the animals who had all stopped midchew to stare.

“Owen, don’t harass the cows. You’re liable to get shot by an angry farmer.”

Owen paid Shade no mind as he crept closer to the cows, shaking his clump of grass at them. “Come get the grass. Yummy grass.”

“Watch out for that—”

Owen gingerly stepped sideways to avoid a fresh cow pie. If Owen got shit on his shoes, he’d be riding in the bed of the truck.

“Don’t you ladies want some yummy grass?”

When Owen got a bit too close for the cows’ comfort, they began to take uneasy steps backward, tossing their heads and rolling their eyes. A few produced loud, disgruntled moos.

“Fine,” Owen said. “Be that way.” He tossed the grass aside and reached for the button of his jeans.

“What the fuck?” Shade asked. As confused as he was as to why Owen felt it necessary to drop his pants and moon the cows, it didn’t stop him from laughing and taking pictures of Owen’s exposed ass.

“Still think you’re too good for my grass?” Owen called to the cows. “How do you feel about viewing my ass?”

Shade took his eyes off his phone screen to scrutinize Owen more closely. He could rhyme lines of equal length; was he capable of writing profound lyrics? Ones not about mooning cows?

When the herd began to bellow in distress—and who could blame them—an enormous, pissed-off bull popped up over the hill. When he recognized that his herd had been insulted, his massive body tensed and he swished his tufted tail threateningly before releasing a deep bellow.

“Owen, I think you’d better make a run for it,” Shade said.

Owen glanced over his shoulder. With an “Oh, shit!” he raced toward the gate, struggling to keep his pants up. “Open the gate!” he yelled. “Open the fucking gate!”

Shade had been laughing so hard, it hadn’t occurred to him that Owen could be in mortal danger. And he’d been too busy snapping pictures to think about helping.

The bull was rapidly closing in on Owen; there was no way he would beat the animal to the gate. The massive beast’s hoofbeats thundered across the ground and churned up puffs of dust as the bull attempted to trample the human who dared insult his cows. Owen dodged left and scaled the plank fence beside the gate like an expert rodeo clown.

Shade waved one hand at the bull, trying to gain its attention. “Hey, Ribeye. Over here!”

Distracted by Shade, the bull hesitated long enough for Owen to flip over the top of the fence and land on his back in the long grass between the road and the pasture. He lay there for a long moment, catching his breath, while on the other side of the fence the bull pawed the ground, snorted, and flicked its tail in annoyance.

“Are you okay?” Shade asked, chuckling at Owen.

“I’m alive!”

“I’m not sure that fence will hold back a pissed-off bull. We’d better get out of here.”

Owen dragged himself off the ground and stumbled back to the truck. He’d mooned the cows, but he gave the bull the finger.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Shade said as he slid into the truck beside Owen.

“Made you laugh.” Owen grinned at Shade. “Did you get any pictures?”

Shade handed him his cellphone and Owen flipped through the shots, laughing so hard at what must have been a terrifying situation that Shade wondered if the guy needed a psychiatrist.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Shade asked.

Owen hesitated, the smile dropping from his friendly face. “Um, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a little crazier than usual.”

Owen shrugged. “Just a little stressed.”

“About?”

“Caitlyn.”

Shade scowled. “I thought her name was Lindsey.”

“Lindsey’s the reason I’m stressed about Caitlyn. I was hoping to make her a more permanent part of my life.”

“You’re seeing someone seriously?”

“I’m trying to. I met Caitlyn at a sex club several nights ago. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. Smart, sexy, rich . . .” He grinned his best boy-toy grin.

“A cougar?”

“Oh, yeah. You know I like my meat well-seasoned.”

Shade laughed. “Typical. So she knows about Lindsey?”

“She was there when Lindsey showed up. I don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to see Caitlyn this weekend and make it up to her, but how am I going to pull that off while I’m taking Lindsey to Austin?”

“And where’s this other chick from?”

“Houston.”

“So drop Lindsey off tonight and head directly for Houston. Don’t look back.”

“I’m sure that’ll go over well with my mom. Hey, Mom, I might have gotten this woman pregnant. Can you keep an eye on her for a few months while I go fool around with this other woman? The one I actually
want
to be with. I know how much you like me to date older women.” His words dripped with sarcasm.

“You could tell Lindsey to figure out her own problems,” Shade said, squinting at the map on his phone that seemed to be leading them nowhere.

“But if it is my baby, I’d feel like shit if I disregarded his mother.”

Shade rubbed his nose with the side of his finger. He’d never understood where Owen was coming from, and this situation was no different. “If Lindsey had been your girlfriend or something, your concern would make sense to me, but she slept with every person on the bus that night, including her best friend. If you act like a whore—”

Shade’s words were cut off by Owen’s hard punch to his arm. Shade rubbed the aching spot and scowled.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Owen said. “We all make mistakes.”

Why was he defending her? Shade didn’t get it at all. But, whatever. If Owen wanted the woman to be his problem, Shade wasn’t going to beg him to hand over the responsibility.

Shade’s phone produced a familiar tone. It was an alert that told him that Adam was within a certain radius again. They must be driving down parallel roads or something. Shade had put the app on Adam’s phone over a year ago, when he was still struggling with addiction. He wasn’t sure why he kept it now that Adam was clean. Shade supposed he still didn’t trust him not to do something completely idiotic.

“I wonder if Adam is busy,” Shade said. “The limo driver said he rented a bike, so maybe he’s driving around. Maybe he’d like to eat crawdads with us.”

He had no idea why Adam would be riding a motorcycle out in the middle of nowhere—because he and Owen were definitely in the middle of nowhere—but this was the perfect opportunity to boot him in the ass. Shade hoped Adam was riding to clear his head so he could write lyrics. But more than likely he was fucking his girlfriend in the bayou, which would likely only muddle his thoughts further.

Owen shrugged. “We can ask.”

“Text him,” Shade said.

Owen reached into his pocket, but Shade handed him his phone. “Use mine.”

“I’ll have to send him a picture of my cow prank. See what he says.”

Shade snorted. “He’ll think you’ve lost your mind.”

“But I’m sure it’ll make him laugh.” Owen sent the picture and waited. “He’s not responding.”

“If he’s on a bike, he’ll have to pull over to answer,” Shade said.

“True.” He sent several more messages. Eventually Adam started to respond.

“Where the hell are you guys?” Owen read from the screen.

“Here, give it back to me,” Shade said.

“You shouldn’t text and drive,” Owen said, but he handed him the phone.

Shade rarely texted more than a couple of words at a time; he used his voice-to-text app almost exclusively. After explaining to Adam where they were, he asked him to meet them for lunch. He was surprised when Adam agreed. He seemed to be in a much better mood than he had been that morning. Shade decided he wouldn’t bust Adam’s balls about not writing lyrics until they were back at the venue. Well, unless Adam broached the subject.

“So he’s going to meet us there?”

“If he can find it,” Shade said. “Where in the hell is this place?” Besides the narrow highway and some fencing, Shade hadn’t seen any manmade structures for miles. “Are you sure it exists?”

Owen consulted Shade’s map app. “We’ll be turning in a few miles.”

“Well, don’t let me miss it or we’ll end up in Mississippi.”

“Or Florida.”

When his phone’s navigation program finally told him to turn right, they bounced down a short gravel drive before coming upon a small open picnic area in front of a trailer that had been converted into a mobile kitchen. Shade wondered if they’d set up business here to avoid city health inspections. The place made gas station restrooms look sanitary.

“Are you sure this place is legit?” Shade asked. He wouldn’t want to get food poisoning and spend his evening on the toilet instead of onstage.

“It must be—it’s packed.” Owen handed him his phone, opened the truck door, and slipped outside.

Shade watched a nearby patron crack open crawdad after crawdad and stuff them into his mouth. When the guy didn’t collapse from intense stomach pain or start projectile vomiting, Shade climbed out of the truck and followed Owen to the order counter.

“What will you have?” the aged, dark-skinned woman asked in a thick Cajun accent.

The menu board was limited in variety; Cajun-seasoned crawdads and shrimp, gumbo, and a few traditional side dishes were all they offered. But as far Shade was concerned, they only needed one item on their menu.

“A double order of crawdads,” Shade said.

“Good idea,” Owen said. “We can share them.”

Maybe if they were disgusting. But Shade figured Owen would be going hungry.

Shade was halfway through his mess of tongue-tantalizing bliss when the rumble of a huge Harley announced Adam’s arrival. He had his woman with him—the sweet little drug counselor from Dallas—but Shade was too busy stuffing his face and fending off Owen’s attempts to sample one of his crawdads to offer either of them a proper greeting.

Dear lord, Shade had never tasted more delicious crawdads in his life. He was glad Owen had thought of this place.

He was starting to feel full, but the bit of spice stinging his tongue and lips made him crave more. He did love spicy food—not so hot that you couldn’t taste other flavors, but hot enough to cause a tingle. This place got the flavor and the sensation exactly right. He was so intent on devouring his meal that he scarcely noticed the rest of the group had abandoned him to order at the counter. Until he noted his pile of crustaceans was quickly dwindling.