Pure Wicked (Wicked Lovers #9.5)(6)
Author: Shayla Black

Jayla looked disgusted. “That’s not you. You’re too passionate about life to do nothing but keep a clean house, spit-polish up the kids for Christmas photos, and scrapbook your life away.”

“Agreed.” She drank more of her beer, then lowered the mug to the nearly empty bar with a sigh. “But you basically described Presleigh. Hell, maybe they are a perfect match.”

“Ugh. He’s falling for an empty package.”

Bristol shrugged. “But he doesn’t have much depth, either. I let myself be dazzled by a few roses and charming words from the most eligible guy in town. I mean, he’s Lewisville, Arkansas’s version of a Kennedy. I had a crush on him in high school something fierce. And he looked good in his football pants.”

Jayla tilted her head. “I’ll give you that.”

“I appreciate you being mad on my behalf, but honestly…I’m more humiliated than heartbroken. I’m over him.”

For the foreseeable future, no more entanglements of the heart. Flings only. If she kept the length of her relationships to a night—a weekend, tops—she couldn’t make the same mistake again.

Bristol simply wished she didn’t have to see Hayden and Presleigh together all the damn time. But in a town of twelve hundred people, avoiding them wouldn’t be easy. Even if she moved away, she’d come home to visit and run into them eventually.

“A toast,” Corey, one of Hayden’s football friends from high school said, standing in front of the rest of the gathering. “Raise your glasses, everyone. To Presleigh, the most beautiful girl in Lafayette County. May you always follow your heart and be happy. To Hayden… Cheers, man. You’re one lucky bastard.”

As the crowd laughed, Bristol looked on with a sigh…then spotted her mother bustling over, her Pepto-Bismol pink suit looking more suited to Easter Sunday services than an engagement party.

“You’re being rude,” her mother chastised. “This is Presleigh’s event, and you’re sitting at the bar, sulking. Come give her your love and support. After all, she is your sister.”

Bristol tightened her grip on her mug. “I closed my restaurant early and drove forty-five minutes down the road to celebrate her upcoming nuptials to the man who dumped me for her. I think the fact that I’m here at all is enough.”

“You sound bitter,” her mother tsked, her hair not blowing at all as the air conditioner kicked on.

She wasn’t. She and Hayden hadn’t been a good match, and she hadn’t wanted to admit it. In truth, he’d done her a favor by falling for someone else. Bristol just wished that someone hadn’t been her younger sister. At nineteen, Presleigh was too young to get married and too pampered to know what the word compromise meant.

“Mama, leave it. Please. I’m not making waves. I’m still speaking to her. And to him. Anything more will take time.”

Her mother frowned. “At least come sit with the group. Food will be served soon, and the rest of the family is asking questions.”

Because keeping up appearances with her Aunt Jean, a distant cousin, and the rest of the townsfolk was far more important than any potential heartbreak or misery her own daughter may have suffered.

Beside her, Jayla rolled her eyes. She and Linda Mae Reese had never gotten along. Her best friend had always sworn that her mother favored Presleigh. Bristol had never experienced that as vividly as she was right now.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes, Mama. I’m just waiting for a friend.” Maybe the others would be done eating before she had to admit that her “friend” hadn’t shown up—what a shame—and she joined the party as it wound down for the evening.

“Who?” Her mother frowned. “We didn’t invite anyone else, Bristol.”

In her mom’s vernacular, that meant that Bristol asking someone new to join the party without her knowledge bordered on unacceptable.

Jayla gave Linda Mae a sweet-as-pie smile. “Her new boyfriend.”

Bristol whirled on her barstool. “Are you crazy?”

What the hell was she going to do when no new man showed up except look more pathetic?

Her pal gave her an apologetic grimace. “It slipped out.”

Quickly, Bristol scanned the few men nearby to see if any might be suitable fake boyfriend material. Maybe she could bribe him with a few drinks to play nice for an hour. But no guy fit the bill. Predictably, most folks in a restaurant near the five p.m. mark were at least old enough to be social security eligible or were married with children.

“Oh.” Her mother reared back, obviously surprised. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone. Who is he? Where did you meet? What does he do? Where does he live?”