Lennox
lennox
. . .
Through the Dust Sneak Peak
The cowboy couldn’t dance for shit. He kept stepping on my toes every time we moved, and his turns were sloppy and out of control. I’d lost count of how many couples he’d bumped us into after the first song.
It didn’t help that I’d worn brand-new boots. Josie had warned me not to, but I didn’t listen. I never listened. At least when I showed up limping tomorrow, I could blame it on the man staring at my tits rather than my eyes.
Fortunately, after two songs, Bishop and Cleo made their way back to the table, and I had an excuse to save what was left of my toes. As the music came to an end, I forced a smile. “Thanks so much for the dances! My friends are headed back, though, so I’m gonna…” I trailed off, shooting finger guns in their direction.
Maybe Bishop’s onto something. Why am I the way I am?
The cowboy laughed. “Then let’s go.”
He gripped my hand in his, following my sister and Bishop. It would’ve been fine had he not grabbed his beer and set it on our table, looking around expectantly at everyone. “‘Sup? Names Case.”
Case? Oh no. I had an ex-boyfriend on the circuit named Case, and he was a fuckboy supreme. Looked a lot like this guy, to be honest.
He stuck out his hand toward the others. Cleo shook it because she was polite and never wanted anyone to think anything bad about her, but Bishop stared at it like it was a hot branding iron.
And then his gaze slid to me in a “Are you fucking kidding me?” look.
Oops.
“I’m gonna grab some more drinks,” Cleo muttered, shaking her head as she made her way to the bar. I wanted to beg her to take me.
“Ouch,” Case said, pulling back and laughing. “Tough fucking crowd. You her brother or something?”
I said, “Or something,” while Bishop growled, “Absolutely fucking not.”
Lord, give me strength.
“He’s the foreman at our ranch,” I clarified. “Known him my whole life.”
“Not your whole life,” Bishop mumbled.
“I mean, as good as,” I laughed. “What? I was like, four when Dad brought you on? Anyway, we’re practically family.”
The lie was bitter and horrible like cough medicine being forced down my throat, but I swallowed it either way.
“Black Springs, right? Heard some of the boys talking ‘bout it when y’all walked in. That’s a damn fine outfit. Y’all hiring?”
“Nope,” Bishop said, popping the P. “Even if we were, don’t think you’d cut it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Case asked, puffing out his chest.
Bishop stared at him, the corner of his lips tipping up. “You ever rounded cattle?”
“Well, no?—”
“What about branded? Ever helped with that?”
“Not exactly, but?—”
“Have you ever driven a tractor? Or pulled anything in that fancy truck I’m sure you’ve got sittin’ out there?”
Case was silent, teeth grinding so hard I swore I could hear them scraping against one another.
Bishop chuckled. “Then why the fuck do you think I’d hire you to work on my ranch?”
“It’s not your ranch, though, is it?” Case snapped back. “You may be the second in charge, but you don’t have a say in shit at the end of the day.”
I’ll say this about the kid… He’d found his balls but found them at the wrong time.
“Okay,” I said, dragging out the word. “Case, it’s been great— really wonderful—but I think it’s time you head back to your friends.”
“Yeah, okay,” he scoffed, grabbing his beer. He muttered something under his breath, but I didn’t hear it. Or maybe I did, but I wanted to pretend otherwise.
“!”
I turned to see Cleo scurrying over with her drinks, but her eyes were wide. Panicked.
“What’s up? What’s wrong?” I asked, placing my hands on her shoulders.
“Ellis,” she panted. “He’s here. He’s at the door.” Her eyes slid to where Josie and Lincoln were cozying up on the dancefloor.
“I’m on it,” I said, stepping around her. “Stay here.”
Josie needed to kick that asshole to the curb, but now wasn’t the time to do it. I didn’t know why Ellis was here, and I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was make sure my sister was okay.
She and Lincoln stood in the center of the dance floor, looking at one another like moon-eyed fools, lost in their own world. I almost hated to intrude.
Almost.
I marched forward, skidding to a stop as I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Hey, cowboy, mind if I have this dance?”
I quickly gave them a rundown, telling Josie she sure as hell didn’t want Ellis to walk in and see what I had. She took off toward the table, leaving Lincoln and I alone out on the floor.
The house band who’d been playing was saying their goodbyes, packing up their instruments to clear the way for the next act. The bar switched to one of their tried-and-true playlists of old country tunes.
They’d played it so many times, I’d memorized the order. The owner never switched the songs to shuffle, even though most of his regulars had tried to show him how. I didn’t mind, though. It was comforting to know that no matter how hard people tried to change things, he’d basically told them all to go to hell.
It feels like something I would’ve done, honestly.
Lincoln’s movements were stiff, his muscles coiled and ready to strike beneath my hands. He didn’t take his eyes off Josie for one second, not until she was safely sitting down at the table with Cleo and Bishop.
I glanced up at him, envious of the way he watched her with such fervor. No one had ever looked at me like that. Not that I had ever let anything grow past the point of lust-filled glances and heated moments in the back of my truck.
I told myself I never had the time for more, that I was too busy with life on the ranch and the circuit to share what precious moments I had with someone else. Even though we were in the heart of cowboy country, it was hard to find someone who understood.
I think they found it attractive at first—how I could hold my own in the arena and kick most of their asses while doing it. But there was some deeply rooted belief that all of that had to go away when a woman settled down. Suddenly, it was unbecoming.
I was never going to be the type to be barefoot and pregnant, turning in my reins for a spatula while my partner was out tending to the things that needed to be done. I wanted to be beside them, fixing fences and rounding up cattle. I wanted to be seen and treated as an equal, sharing the load of life’s hardships instead of becoming an accessory on their arm.
My mom always said I had too much of my dad in me. At first, I thought it was a negative comment, something I always challenged her on. As I got older, though, I realized it was the best compliment I could’ve been given.
I squeezed Lincoln’s hand, bringing his attention back to me. “Don’t break her fucking heart.”
He looked confused, brows pulling together in question. Yeah, it may have seemed out of left field to him, but it wasn’t to me. “Pardon?”
I’d watched Josie, my sweet, overly anxious, falls-in-love-too-easily sister, get hurt more times than I could count. I was always there to pick her up when she was down. We’d go out to the Lone Star, tearing up the town until the cycle started again, and she caught the eye of some new heartbreaker.
Only now did I realize we’d never done that after her trip to Tennessee. I hadn’t understood what was different about that time than any of the others, how she seemed more distraught after a five-day fling than she had finding out her boyfriend of over six months had been cheating on her.
But I understood now, and I reckoned love didn’t give a shit about conventional timing.
“You heard me, cowboy. I mean it. If you break her heart, I’ll kill you. There’s a lot of places to hide a body on the ranch, and I won’t think twice about shoving your dick back up?— ”
“I’m not gonna break her heart,” he mumbled, sliding his eyes back toward the table. “But I’m afraid she’s gonna break mine.”
I followed his gaze, stomach dropping as I noticed Ellis standing where Lincoln had been moments ago. He leaned forward, relying on the table to steady him as he swayed on his feet.
As Josie leaned away, every muscle in Lincoln’s body grew taut. We’d stopped in the middle of the dance floor, earning our share of rude looks from couples passing by. “Don’t go making a scene,” I warned. “You don’t want to get tossed out on your ass.”
“I don’t give a shit about that,” he said, rolling his neck as Ellis sneered down at my sister.
He said something, and Josie slammed her hand down on the table. I didn’t need to hear her words to know she was tearing into his ass. It would’ve been funny had Bishop not sat up straighter and looked over his shoulder at Lincoln and I.
Ope. This wasn’t going to end well. Someone was going to end up with split knuckles or a broken nose. My money was on Ellis for the latter.
And then, just like I’d predicted, all hell broke loose as Ellis reached for Josie, pulling her off the stool and getting in her face. She reached for the hand firmly curled around her bicep, trying to loosen his white-knuckled grip.
Lincoln was gone, storming toward the table in a murderous rage. His boots thundered against the concrete floor. I followed, hot on his heels because if he didn’t get to him first, I’d be the one security was dragging out, kicking and screaming.
I’d always hated Ellis, but that was because I thought he was an arrogant piece of shit who thought he was better than everyone around him. I’d never clocked him as the violent type, but sometimes, you didn’t see a snake in the grass until you got bit.
Laying a hand on any woman was a mistake, but laying a hand on Josie?
Huge. Fucking monumental.
Cleo shouted for security as Lincoln pulled Ellis off Josie, internally cheering as he landed a hard blow to the fucker’s nose. I stopped beside Cleo, watching with glee as blood began trickling down his upper lip. “What’d you do that for?” I asked her, grabbing what was left of my beer off the table and downing the rest.
We both cocked our heads as Lincoln pushed Ellis against a table. “Because I don’t want to have to call Dad and explain why he’s going to need to drive down to the county jail and bail everyone’s ass out.”
“Davey doesn’t call the cops for shit like this,” I said, just as the man in question came bounding up. He’d worked at this bar for as long as I could remember, and I’d gotten to know him pretty well.
“Hey, hey!” he called, trying to break up the fight, but Bishop put his arm out to block him. “Bishop, what the fuck?”
“Aw, come on… Let the man get a few good hits in,” Bishop said, jerking his chin toward the spectacle. “He put his hands on Josie.” There was a smirk on his face as he watched Ellis try in vain to break out of Lincoln’s hold. I didn’t know why, or if there was even a reason, but he hated the fucker almost as much as I did.
And maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was my adrenaline, but there was something about that simple move that was stupidly hot.
I was clearly not in my right mind because there was no way I was letting myself daydream about Bishop Bryant.
“Can’t risk the bar being sued, dumbass,” Davey muttered, barreling through Bishop’s blockade. Lincoln stepped back with his hands up, welcoming Josie as she wrapped her arms around him. Two other men grabbed Ellis, trying to drag him out, but he broke free and made a dash toward my sister.
Lincoln tried to break their fall to no avail. They both landed in a tangle of limbs. Ellis lunged forward, calling my sister a bitch and shouting promises of lawsuits from the top of his lungs.
Fuck that.
I stepped between them, reaching Ellis before Davey even had a chance. Without another thought, I placed my hands on his shoulders and smashed the toe of my brand-new boots into his balls. “Piece of shit,” I spat as two large arms wrapped around my middle. The scent of sage and honey and very bad decisions filled my senses as I was pulled tightly against a warm chest.
“Easy there, killer,” Bishop chuckled. His deep, throaty tone sent shivers down my spine. “I think you’ve done enough damage.”
I watched Davey pick Ellis off the floor and drag him to the front doors. The crowd parted, some laughing and clapping the moment his wailing was gone. Josie pulled Lincoln to the corner, fussing over him like he’d been in a knock-down, drag-out brawl when it barely was classified as a bar fight.
“Lemme go,” I said, struggling in Bishop’s hold.
“Have it your way,” he said, untangling himself from my middle and letting me drop.
The sound I made was somewhere between a yelp and a squeal—I couldn’t be sure. I wasn’t in the habit of making it.
I spun around, ready to dig into him for letting me fall when I saw a smile on his lips. An actual smile—not that fake, public shit. No, this had wrinkles forming near his temple, and his eyes had a weird playfulness. He covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking with restrained… laughter ?
“Was that a laugh?” I asked, peering up at him. He rolled his lips together, dropping his hand and tucking inside the pocket of his jeans. “Like, an honest-to-God laugh ? Oh my god. Who are you?”
Bishop closed his eyes. “Why do you have to be weird about shit?”
“Because I don’t know if I’ve ever heard that weird sound from you. Should I be worried? Do we need a doctor?”
“It was just a laugh, . Nothing to make a fuss over.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re not programmed to laugh, so this obviously means one of two things.”
He leaned his elbow on the table. “Alright, let’s hear them.”
“One,” I said, holding up my pointer finger, “you’ve been abducted by aliens, and this is some kind of body double situation.”
He blinked. “ What ?”
“Or two, you’ve been possessed. I’d wager it was some kind of demon. Does thinking about hell make you homesick? Have you experienced any projectile vomiting recently?”
Bishop shook his head. “Where the fuck do you come up with this shit?”
I shrugged. “Unlike some people—and I’m not naming names, of course—I read books with words , not just pictures. I know it’s a crazy concept. Maybe if you tried it some time, you could learn a thing or two.”
“Are you saying I can’t read?” he asked. He seemed offended, which was weird because that was exactly what I was saying. I’d never seen Bishop read anything besides whiskey bottles and feed labels.
“I already told you I wasn’t naming names, Bish,” I said, raising my hand to mimic zipping my lips tight.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cleo walking up. She placed her hand in the crook of my elbow. “Let’s go check on Josie,” she said, chewing on her cheek. “I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Yeah, I guess we’ll need to settle our tabs. Davey doesn’t call the cops but has a no-bullshit policy. Lincoln’ll be kicked out for the night,” I said.
Bishop stuck his hands in his pocket. “Well, are y’all wanting to stay? There are plenty of familiar faces here tonight. We could probably catch a ride if you wanted to.”
I shot Cleo a grin, ecstatic because I wasn’t ready to go home. There was a restless energy coursing beneath my skin. I wanted to set it free, to see where it would take me.
“Don’t you think we should probably cut our losses and go home?” She pulled away from me, fidgeting with her fingers like she had earlier.
I reached out and grasped her hand, and gave it a quick squeeze. Her eyes met mine, verging on panic or hope. I couldn’t tell which. “Do you want to go home, Cleo?”
“I don’t know, Len.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. I barely caught her words over the din of the crowd.
I pulled her in tight, aware of Bishop’s curious gaze bouncing between us. “You say the word, and we’re gone, okay?”
“Sure,” she said, nodding slowly. “But maybe we could get a few shots?”
I clapped my hands together. “Fuck yes, we can! That’s my girl. What’s your poison? Whiskey is my personal favorite, but there’s also tequila?—”
“Tequila,” she blurted out. “Lots of tequila.”
Bishop groaned. “This is gonna be a long fucking night.”
I turned toward him, standing taller as his eyes slowly raked along my body. He dragged a thumb across the bottom of his lip, shaking his head.
Yup. The alcohol was getting to me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun with it.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Grab Through the Dust here!