Chapter Two

Waverly's confusion only increased as she entered her apartment and found Champ there, laying on her bed in a pair of ridiculous cactus print boxers, in what he probably thought was a seductive pose. They had been more off than on lately, and knowing Champ, this was his idea of romance. In theory, Waverly was not opposed to a quickie before work, but she couldn't help but think that if Nicole were trying to seduce her there would be candles and flowers and mood lighting and soft music. She knew that it was unfair to compare the two of them, and she was probably only even thinking about it because she'd just spent half the day with her, but that didn't stop the mental image of Nicole in a pair of boxers and a tank top laying on her bed, arms crossed behind her head, legs splayed wide, a soft, sexy smirk playing at her lips. A shiver skittered down her spine at the thought and she shook her head to clear it. She shouldn't be thinking about Nicole trying to romance her while her boyfriend was less than two feet away from her.

"Hey, babe," he said, sitting up and sliding to the end of the bed when it became clear that Waverly wasn't going to join him in it. "Where you been all day?" There was an unappealing whine in his tone. "I been calling and texting you."

As if she were supposed to be at his beck and call, because he had decided to give her the time of day? Waverly suppressed the flare of irritation and struggled to keep her voice neutral and even as she answered. "I was having coffee with Nicole."

"Nicole?" Champs face screwed up in confusion as she tried to place the name. "Wait, you mean that ginger cop from the bar the other day? You know, Pete Yorke told me that she's a dyke," he added, at her nod.

Waverly bristled at the word, and the derisive way in which he said it. "Pete Yorke's an asshole."

"I don't know if I like the idea of you hanging out with her. She might try something."

Waverly didn't even bother to hide her eyeroll.

"Did she like, make a move?" He asked, before she even had the chance to tell him that she didn't much care if he liked the idea or not. "Did she kiss you? Did you guys make out?" he asked, his tone going from concerned to leering in two seconds flat.

"You're a pig Champ." Waverly sidestepped the question, because while Nicole hadn't made any blatant moves, she had made her interest clear, and damn it if she was going to give Champ the satisfaction of being right. Especially not when Nicole wasn't the predator that Champ was trying to make her out to be.

Still, she felt a pang of guilt for keeping the truth from him. If the situation were reversed, and she found out that Champ had been having coffee with some girl who made her attraction to him very clear, she'd be hurt that he wasn't honest about it.

Hell, she had been hurt in the past when she'd found out that he'd been hanging out with other girls and kept that information from her.

Is that what this was? Was she trying to get revenge on Champ for the times he had hurt her in the past? As soon as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. If that was something she wanted to do, she'd had plenty of opportunities over the years. No. Her interest, if you could call it that, in Nicole had nothing to do with her relationship with Champ. And yet, she was still doing something potentially hurtful to him. And keeping it from him. Despite that, she couldn't quite bring herself to come clean.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of Champ's hands closing around her hips, subtly angling her body into his as he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

"I have to get ready for work," she said, pushing him away gently by the shoulders.

"You work downstairs," he reminded her. "You can be there in two minutes." His lips returned to her neck.

Huffing in irritation she pushed a little harder. "Doesn't mean I can be late. And I still need to shower." She didn't, but it was an excuse for some alone time to clear her thoughts before she was thrust into craziness that was a Thursday night at Shorty's.

"Alone," she added, seeing the grin starting to form on his lips.

"Whatever," he muttered, pulling away, a scowl fixed on his face as he began gathering up his clothes and pulling them on.

"Yeah, well maybe if you put a little more effort into things."

"Effort? You mean like…I shaved and stuff."

"No, I mean like, maybe take me out to dinner. Or buy me flowers, or something, before coming in here and pawing all over me."

Champ didn't respond and stormed out of the apartment without so much as a backward glance. Waverly watched his retreating form, feeling like she should be experiencing at least a little bit of remorse about the way the exchange went down, but mostly just relieved that he was gone. She knew she would have to examine that at some point, but for now she just wanted to get ready for work in peace and quiet.

Shorty's was bustling when she made her way downstairs thirty minutes later, the place full of families having dinner, high school kids crammed eight into six person booths, sharing plates of fries and drinking endless cups of pop, and the occasional traveller passing through, sampling Shorty's award winning wings. As the evening progressed, the families would go home to tuck their kids into bed, the high schoolers would leave to go drinking in the bush and the travellers would get back on the road and the solitary drinkers and hard partiers would start to trickle in. By eleven the place would be packed with an odd mixture of twenty-something singles looking to hook up, lonely middle-aged men and woman seeking the same, and the occasional desperate housewife or bachelor. What the dive bar lacked in charm it made up for in convenience and location. The only other places open after 9 pm in Purgatory was the diner on the outskirts of town and the pizza place at far end of main street, neither of which served alcohol. While Shorty's may be the place to be by default, it was still the place to be, whether it was Friday night or Sunday afternoon there was guaranteed to be a crowd. That was exactly what Waverly was counting on tonight, on losing herself in the motions of pulling pints and waiting tables and making small talk with the regulars, silencing her mind by exhausting her body.

She slipped in behind the bar just in time to catch Wynonna practically drape herself over it, trying to reach the bottles stored below. Waverly watched in amusement as her hand cast about, searching blindly before closing around something. She let out a triumphant yell as she rightened herself, and then a groan as Waverly snatched the bottle away from her.

"What's the point of having a bartender for a sister if it doesn't get me free shots?" she grumbled, settle back onto her stool, scowling.

"One shot," Waverly warned, trying to sound stern, even though they both know that Wynonna would be able to wheedle more than that out of her before the night was through.

"Saw Chump racing out of here like his dick was on fire," Wynonna said before downing her shot and thumping her empty glass down on the bar. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Champ and I are fine," she said, reflexively. The way she always did when Wynonna ragged on him. And as always, the words left a slightly bitter taste in her mouth.

It's not that they were a lie. She and Champ were fine. They got along well enough. They fought sometimes, but they'd never had any major arguments. They had fun together, drinking at the quarry with their friends, watching movies curled up in bed at her place, playing pool here on her night's off. He was sweet to her, if not a little dense (and occasionally possessing a one-track mind.) He made her laugh. But that's all they were, fine

"I'm telling you Babygirl, you can do better than two-hump Chump."

Waverly shrugged at Wynonna's words. She'd heard it before, or variations of it from Wynonna, from Gus, from Chrissy. But she'd never really taken any stock in it. They were together because there wasn't any reason not to be. Or at least, there had never been in the past. Small town, limited options. She'd said it so many times over the past couple years. Convincing herself, convincing others, that it was just the way it had to be.

But, what if it wasn't? A pair of wide, chocolate brown eyes and a sweet smile immediately sprang to mind. Small town, sure, but maybe, just maybe, not so limited in options.