Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ramsey
I have to steel myself when I walk inside Seven Sins because, even from across the room, I can tell Dakota is already in fine form. She’s talking to a coworker and shaking her head, her eyes rolling and then darting to a man at the far side of the bar. Hazel’s friend has never really liked me much and catching her on a bad day is going to make the ask I have that much more unlikely to get a positive reception. But she’s the only one who can really help me with my problem.
It’s at least quiet in here, early enough in the afternoon when most of the locals are still working and the tourists are out on day trips that keep them out of town. But the place is still dark, and the music is low with a heavy beat as she fixes a couple of other guys at the bar their drinks. She finishes them just as I step up, and she pushes a napkin in front of me without making eye contact at first.
“What can I get— you. ” Her eyes narrow and sweep over me for a moment before she gives me an impatient look.
“I was hoping to talk to you.”
“If you need directions out of town, I’m happy to call you a car to take you to the airport. Hell, if you give me ten minutes, I’ll drive you myself.” She gives me a saccharine little smile for show.
“No. But I do need a favor.”
Her eyebrow arches, and her lips curl in a half-formed smirk.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this. I mean, the answer is going to be no. But I still want to hear it.”
I just need to remember I’m doing all this for Haze. If it means I get points with her, it’s all worth it.
“I need someone to teach me how to dance. Nothing fancy like you all usually do around here, just enough that I don’t fuck it up.” I force the words out before I can change my mind.
Dakota and her staff teach line dancing and country swing on Fridays and Saturdays in the after-dinner hours of the evening to try to get the crowd coming in earlier and keep some of the braver tourists entertained outside of Cowboy’s. It’s an open-floor opportunity for anyone who buys drinks, but I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of a crowd of people. Doing it in front of Dakota would be enough.
“Why? You planning on coming to Hazel and Curtis’s wedding?” She grins.
“I’m asking Haze out on a date, and I know she likes to dance. I feel like I let her down the other day when we came with my friends, but I didn’t want to look like a jackass.”
“You always look like a jackass, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”
“Fucking hell...” I shake my head and push the napkin back to her. “I just want to do a nice thing for her. I could use some help. If you’re not willing, maybe someone else is?” I glance down at one of the other bartenders.
“Yeah. Haze won’t like that.” Dakota shakes her head at the blonde down the way. I start to smile at the idea of Hazel being jealous but smother it immediately before Dakota sees. That Dakota thinks she would be? That’s gonna fuel me for the next week at least.
“So?”
“Fine. It’s quiet right now anyway. But I can’t teach you everything in an hour, and that’s all I’ve got.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
A few minutes later, we’re out on the floor with her reluctantly giving me advice on how to two-step and telling me to keep my elbows in as we make our way along. It’s not coming as easy as I hoped it might, but I’m still picking up the basics.
“Fuck me sideways. This is what you’re doing now? Dancing at a bar in the middle of the day?” Grant’s voice breaks my concentration, and I miss the next step nearly an hour later. I look up to see my older brother laughing as he leans back against one of the high tops.
“Better this than whatever you’re doing. Don’t you have mud to be wallowing in somewhere?” Dakota flashes a look of derision at Grant without missing a beat.
“Lovely to see you too, Hartfield.” Grant’s laugh fades, but his smile doesn’t, and I don’t miss the way his eyes wander their way up her legs.
“I thought I told you you were banned from this bar,” Dakota calls out as we make another pass.
“It’s hard to ban the person who owns the building,” Grant argues, and that’s enough to get her to drop her hand from my shoulder and turn her full attention on him.
“The building, not what’s inside it, Stockton.” She motions for him to quit leaning on her table, and he complies, but in a manner so slow that they’re locked in some sort of hate-filled, eye-fucking situation that I’m feeling increasingly out of place to be witnessing.
I clear my throat. “Dakota’s just teaching me some steps so I can take Haze out one of these nights.”
“I’d have thought she’d have ripped your balls off by now.” My brother smirks, but there’s a look of sympathy behind his eyes too.
“Still standing, balls intact—at the moment.” The song comes to an end and turns over to something slower I don’t recognize.
“All right, cowboy. This is your final test. See if you can turn me around the floor without stepping on my toes.” Dakota reaches out for me, and I take her hand in one of mine, placing the other in a very loose position on the side of her lower ribcage. I’m not looking to lose one, and I’m looking even less to do anything that might piss Haze off.
I manage to keep up with her steps, whirling around the floor and turning her almost as well as I saw some of the other people here doing the other night. I let her lead as we spin one more time, and then I dip her gently before she comes back up. We’re making our way back to the starting point when I see Grant take a couple of steps out onto the floor.
“All right. You gotta let me show my little brother how it’s done. It’s painful to watch.” He holds out his hand, and Dakota eyes it warily. Her gaze shifts back up to mine, and I nod.
“Thank you,” I say softly, honestly appreciative because she was able to pack more into the last hour than I’ve probably learned in a lifetime .
“Of course,” she says easily, like she didn’t chew me out the second I walked in here. “And don’t listen to this asshole.” She flashes a look that could kill at Grant even as she considers taking his hand. “You did just fine. Hazel will love it.”
“You want those two back together? I thought you hated all Stocktons,” Grant asks Dakota as he gives up waiting and takes her hand, pulling her close. They start to move around the floor together, faster than anything I’d attempted.
“I hate some more than others. Also… if this is you trying to show him up, you’re already failing.” Dakota stares down at his feet.
“Stop fighting me taking the lead, and maybe you’ll change your mind,” Grant counters as they drift away to the other side of the floor.
I head to the bar to grab a beer while I watch them finish out the song, settling onto one of the worn pleather bar stools as the other bartender pours for me. I feel like I need to keep watch over them to make sure no one loses an eye.
My brothers and I have barely spoken in the last five years, the three of us only communicating to wish each other well on major holidays and to check in about the occasional significant moment with their casino or my team. My older sister, Aspen, is the one who keeps us all united, so it’s been an adjustment now that I’m home to just casually run into each other at the bar.
The song comes to an end, and the two of them exchange more unpleasantries before she returns to her station behind the bar, and he pulls up in the empty seat beside me. His two-thousand-dollar suit looks out of place against the worn wood and the eclectic decor, but it doesn’t seem to rattle him any.
“If you’re already bored of the ranch, I told you there’s an office waiting for you. A whole casino to play in if you want.” Grant looks me over inquisitively .
“I’m not bored of the ranch. I just needed Dakota’s help, like I said.” I tilt my head as I study the details of his suit. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I saw the ranch truck outside. Figured I’d come in and see if it was you and get a drink if it wasn’t.” He shrugs, but I’m not entirely sure I believe him.
“Are you ordering something? This isn’t rented out for a family reunion, and I don’t have space for people who aren’t paying customers.” Dakota wipes down the counter and then looks at Grant impatiently.
His lips press together with amusement as he looks her over. “Yeah, give me a whiskey. Neat.”
“Well or shelf?”
He smirks at her like it’s a ridiculous question. My brother always loved the finer things our parents could afford, and he couldn’t wait to get off the ranch and into a condo in the city when we graduated. I’m not sure he’s ever had a well drink in his life.
“You have Oban or Ardbeg?”
“I got Jack or Jim, sweet cheeks. You want the fancy stuff? I suggest you go back to your golden tower.”
“Jack is fine.”
She slams a glass on the counter and pours it without spilling a drop, capping the bottle and sliding him his drink before she takes off to the other end of the bar where one of her bartenders is waving her over.
“She hates you,” Grant notes as she walks away.
“Not as much as she hates you.” I look back at him, my brow furrowing as I watch him watch her. “You got a masochist thing going on these days?”
“If I do, that makes two of us. You should come to work with me and quit wasting your time chasing after the Briggs girl. I know you loved her, but she’s moved on. It’s been the gossip in town for months about how well those two get on and how fast he fell for her. I’ve got half a dozen girls at the casino prettier and more amenable.”
“She’s my wife.” I’m not even going to dignify the rest of what he said with a response.
“For now. You want to game this out, go for it. But don’t leave town without coming to see me again.”
We both jolt at the slam of metal against wood and turn to see the source. Dakota’s pulled a bat out and is waving it at two of the patrons sitting in front of her. The other bartender is standing behind her, and both of them are yelling at the two men. I watch as one of the guys fingers the holster on his hip.
“Holy fuck.” I go to stand, but Grant’s heavy hand is on my shoulder shoving me back down in my seat.
“You’re on fucking parole. Don’t you dare fucking go anywhere near it. I got it.” He slides past me and makes his way calmly to the scene.
“Gentlemen!” he says loudly, spreading his arms wide and stealing the attention away from Dakota. “Do we have a problem here?”
“…of this shit!” I can only hear part of what he says in return. She answers Grant in the wake of one of the assholes’ complaints, and the men start to talk loudly over her, apparently pissed that she’s speaking at all.
“Whoa. Whoa. Don’t worry, gentlemen. If you’re not getting the service you like here, I’ve got somewhere better you can go. Have you heard of The Avarice? It’s a little casino up the way. Fucking fantastic drinks and service. Gorgeous women. Everything you could want on a day like this. Let me get my card out.” He pats his breast pocket to indicate that he’s reaching for it and not something else, and the guy eases up on his holster, his hands going back to his drink. “Here we go. You just give them this, and it’s on the house, okay? ”
The guys seem placated by the gesture. They gather themselves and move off the stools at that end of the bar in a relatively orderly fashion. They head for the back door, and I see Dakota muttering under her breath as Grant gives her a sharp look. Once they’re gone, I make my way to them.
“What the fuck was that about?” I ask, looking to Dakota for answers.
“They were asking a lot of fucked-up questions about people in town. Who certain people were. Even asking about the ranch. I asked if they were cops. They didn’t like that. Then they started pressing Ruby for answers, and I told them this isn’t that kind of bar, and they could go to Morton’s.”
“One of them said they didn’t like her mouth,” Ruby pipes in.
Well. I could have told them that was a mistake.
“The other one said something similar but in a language I didn’t understand. Irish accent, maybe? Do people in Ireland speak another language?” Ruby looks to Grant and me like we might have answers.
“They can.” Grant looks to the door.
“Fucking tourists,” Dakota mutters. “They all want to recreate some Wild West saloon. And you just keep bringing more of them in.” She sneers at Grant.
“You need security,” he answers her, a disapproving tone to it.
“I have it.” She points the end of her bat at him before flipping it over and tucking it back under the bar.
“It’s not a joke. You’re going to get yourself or someone else killed, antagonizing them like that with no backup plan.” He lectures her, and I can see the way she bristles at the implication.
“Grant—” I start, but she’s already ready to tear into him.
“I’m going to get someone else killed? You’re the one who keeps advertising to these jackasses to come up here. If you’d stop dragging them all into town, we’d be just fine.”
“Because business in here is fucking booming.” Grant glances around at the nearly empty bar.
“It’s four p.m.” She gives him a dismissive look as she wipes down the counter.
“I guarantee I have a full house right now.”
Dakota looks like she’s about to jump the counter to rip his throat out—her hand gripping the rag tightly and her focus slowly lifting from the counter to the two-thousand-dollar suit in front of her. I can see her imagining shoving the rag down his throat and how much damage she can do to him with a metal bat and a broken bottle. She closes her eyes and turns to me, opening them slowly with a saccharine smile on her lips before she speaks.
“Ramsey, if you don’t remove your brother from my bar, I’m going to say things I can’t take back, and you’ll have to decide which body you’re helping to bury.”
“Yep.” I nod and turn to Grant. He starts to open his mouth to argue again, and I shake my head. “Let’s go.”
I manage to get him back out onto the street, blinking as my eyes try to adjust to the late-day sun. We walk slowly down Main toward the lot where we’re both parked, passing another group of tourists headed in Seven Sins’ direction, only pausing to take pictures of the old city hall building. I hope for their sake they pick Cowboy’s instead.
“Do you ever think you might catch more flies with honey?” I mutter as I glance back at Seven Sins.
“Maybe I don’t want to catch. Maybe I just want to badger to the brink of insanity.” Grant’s self-satisfied grin hasn’t left his face, and I’m not in the mood to argue with him further. I just want to get home to Hazel.