When Roses Collide

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Give me another," Harley muttered, tapping the bar. "And don't be stingy with the good stuff this time."

Desi roller her eyes. "You know, this isn't going to solve your problems," she said as she set up another round.

"No, but it sure makes me care about them a hell of a lot less." Leaning her head on her arms, she gave her gothic friend a pathetic smile.

Shaking her head, Desi tipped the bottle up into the glass. When Harley gave her a skeptical look, she laughed and tilted it up again, pouring in more of the thick liquid.

"Happy now?" she asked, raising a pierced eyebrow. At Harley's nod, she poured the concoction into a martini shaker and started vigorously blending the mixture.

While Desi did her thing, Harley closed her eyes. She was exhausted...though part of it was due to an incredible night with her sexy Adonis which had not only left her tired, but slightly sore to boot. Not that she was complaining. And she wasn't weary from the ride on her bike, she loved the freedom of the open road when she was on her Harley. She had burned up miles of pavement this morning trying to wrap her mind around everything and make sense of it. From Travis's outrageous claims of her being stalked by some imaginary killer to her family trying to beat the man she loved into a pulp before they even got a chance to say hello. Even her problems with Rafferty snuck into her musings after a few 20 or 30 miles.

Sadly, the only conclusion she could come up with was men were idiots and she didn't know how to speak their language enough to tell them off in their own complicated tongue.

After she had calmed down to the point she was no longer seeing red and her brain was frazzled from overthinking, she had made a U-turn and ended up at the Longhorn to drown her troubles and to seek advice from her friend. But, mostly, it was to drown her woes. Advice from Desi was iffy at best.

"This is your third one." Desi interrupted her thoughts as she poured Harley's drink into a tall glass and pushed it towards her.

"It's your fault for making the best chocolate milk around," she said, lifting up her head. Snatching it off the counter, she took a long drink. "Ahhh...so good," she moaned, licking her lips.

"Wonderful, I'll add it to my resume," Desi drawled, wiping down the counter. "So let me get this straight." She chucked the rag she had been using into the sink behind the counter and leaned against the bar. Crossing her arms over her black shredded t-shirt which gave glimpses of the blood red camisole she wore underneath, she gave Harley a scrutinizing stare. "You waltz into town and snag the most eligible bachelor Wolf Springs has to offer. Who then proceeds to pop your long overdue cherry like a true professional and then...your so called family shows up who just happens to be five of the hottest men this side of Thunder Down Under..."

"Six," Harley mumbled, not meeting her gaze as she toyed with her glass.

Desi snorted. "Oh, excuse me. Six sexy cowboys and you're sitting here at my bar bitching to me about it?"

Harley took an awkward sip of her drink. "Yes?" she said hesitantly, not really sure what the correct answer to that one was.

"Honey, if you were standing on a chair with a rope around your neck, I'd kick the fucking chair." Desi said, slapping her palm on the bar and making her jump.

Harley stared at her as if she was from another planet. "Gee, thanks buddy ole pal of mine," she grouched. "Nice to know you have my back."

"Seriously, you know I love you, but that's the worst case of first world problems I've ever heard."

"You weren't there. They were at each other's throats," she defended lamely.

"So what? Hello? News flash...that's what men do! They fight, fuck and feast." She waved a hand in the air, the bar lights catching the silvered spikes on her leather cuff.