Chapter 5 Lina
lina
Stepping into the Saddle Room at the Joseph Round-up a year later made my heart gallop.
I was half expecting to see Reed leaning up against the bar, glowering into his whiskey glass, while the rowdy crowd mulled around him.
But instead, it felt like his presence was haunting me while Kale, Christian, and I pushed our way up to the bar.
It was the last night of the rodeo. With all of our events behind us, we were ready to cut loose.
“The buckle bunnies are out in full force tonight.” Kale grinned ear to ear, elbowing Christian’s side.
Several women were hovering nearby, ready to grab some dick or shed their bras for a free T-shirt. These women are absolutely feral.
But I didn’t blame them. I was right there with them a year ago. I just ended up learning my lesson the hard way.
“I don’t fuck with that anymore,” Christian reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard.”
“We’ve all heard that, Christian,” I told him. “About a thousand times.”
“I’m just waiting for you to change your mind,” Kale admitted as we sidled up to the bar, each of us slamming our tokens down.
“Whiskey?” the bartender suggested.
“On the rocks.” I nodded curtly.
“Neat,” the guys also chimed in.
The bartender set down three glasses, filling them with the amber liquid.
I picked mine up and swirled the ice cubes around before taking a sip.
“So is Sage … waiting for you to change your mind, I mean,” I teased. He’d been obsessed with Kale’s sister for almost two years now, and the poor guy didn’t stand a chance.
“That’s the point. I’ll keep saying it until she believes me.”
“You know you have my blessing,” Kale, his roommate and one of his best friends aside from me said, clinking his glass with Christian’s.
They both took long swigs.
Kale took another drink, momentarily doffing his cowboy hat so he could push his dark, wavy hair behind his ears.
He was growing it out. “Well, if you’re not fucking with them, I got the pretty brunette by the door.
” He straightened his hat on his head and peeled away from our little group, making a beeline for the woman standing with her friends, who kept looking our way.
“You don’t have to stay with me.” Christian sighed, glancing away from his friend to look at me. “Half the cowboys and roughies are checking you out.”
I scanned the bar. I was used to eyes being on me whenever I walked into a room.
My mom called it our “super power.” Our natural allure that drew people to us.
Unfortunately, my powers ran out the minute I opened my mouth, very unlike my mother.
The last guy I dated—a saddle bronc rider named Jones—said I was too “crude” for him and he preferred his girls “tamer.” Like, what the actual fuck?
The guy was nice, and he definitely knew how to eat pussy, but apparently, I was too wild for him.
Screw him. Better yet, never again! I wasn’t about to change who I was for some dude.
And right now, this room seemed full of Joneses.
And no Reeds.
“Nah, I’m good.” I just wanted to relax and celebrate my win. Maybe even rub it into Paige Gibson’s pretty, pretty princess face. She was sitting at a table with her family. Her mom pinning her hair back beneath her cowboy hat. All of them looked rather serious while they drank their losses.
“Hey, Christian!” Kale shouted from across the room, waving him over.
“He wants me to play wingman,” Christian grumbled.
“Better help your buddy out.” I winked. “I promise I won’t tell Sage.” Holding my hat to my head while I almost doubled over, laughing.
He shot me a glare. “You okay sitting here, brat?” he asked, setting his now-empty glass down and getting a refill.
“Fine. I promise. Go on.” I shooed him away.
A bar stool opened up. I downed the rest of my drink and leaned across the bartop. Pushing my tits up, I used that super power to my advantage to get the bartender’s attention. I held back a giggle when it worked. He nearly fumbled rushing over.
“What will it be, miss?” he asked. He was cute, with sandy-blond hair and dimples.
I smiled at him, setting my second token into his hand, letting it linger a little bit longer so he could feel the brush of my fingertips. I wasn’t feeling any of the cowboys, but perhaps the whiskey slinger.
“A double this time.” I gave him a wink.
He closed his grip, brushing his knuckles across my palm, and gave me a cocky smirk. “Anything for our barrel racing champ.”
“So you saw my run?”
“I might have caught it,” he said, pouring my drink.
The gentleman beside me turned, his eyes blatantly traveling down my body. “I caught it. I watch you every year, and this was, by far, your best race,” the man said.
I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were intense on my face, as if he could see through my skin, making it crawl.
He looked to be close to my age, possibly a little older, with dark hair and whiskers that were in serious need of grooming.
The man could have been handsome if he didn’t give off creeper vibes.
The hair on my arms stood on end despite the heat of the over-populated bar.
“Thank you,” I said politely, turning to my drink.
He spun on his stool until his arm rested across the bartop, his hand inches away from where mine wrapped around my glass. His boots were kicked up on rungs of the stool, his knees splayed. Any closer and he would be bracketing me in.
“You know, someone handed me a Saddle Room tattoo when I came in,” he said, lifting his palm. Lying there beneath his hand was a temporary tattoo with a bucking, saddled bronco, The Saddle Room labeled beneath. “Want another one?”
Another one? What the fuck did that mean? My heart began to thump wildly, as if alarm bells were going off in my chest. I raised my eyes to his. They were drilling into me as if he could see everything beneath the layer of denim and polyester.
“I don’t think so,” I told him, looking over at the bartender who was taking care of other patrons. Come back over here, please.
“Sure you do. I’ll get you another drink, and we can have some fun tonight.”
I picked up my drink, turning in my seat to look around for Christian and Kale. Both of them were busy chatting up the girls at the table.
“Thanks, but no thanks, buddy.” I scooted off the stool, taking my drink with me to head over to the dance floor.
I sucked down the rest of the whiskey, dropping it off at a deserted table before joining the line dancers grapevining to “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.
” Normally, I would be enjoying myself. Brooks & Dunn would get me every time.
Right now, though, I was too busy trying to brush off the heavy feeling that was taking over all of my senses.
A shiver of uncomfortable tingles shot up and down my back.
I scooted along the floor, hoping that the click of my heels would ground me.
The uncomfortable feeling stuck with me and brought to mind a few other times I’d felt like I was being watched. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was this creep.
Being part of the crowd made me feel better, but I could still feel his eyes on me as if they were burning into my skin. I felt like I was on fire, and not in a good way.
I didn’t even need to look behind me. I could feel the air shift as a presence pressed against me. The heat of his body loomed over me like a dark cloud.
“I see what you’re doing. I know, for a fact, you like to be chased.” His breath was hot and moist against my ear, causing me to shudder.
Stopping mid-heel-toe, I pivoted, turning on him.
The dude was right in my space. I leaned back, attempting to put distance between us despite the crowded dance floor.
“Asshole, take the hint. I’m really not interested.” I glared at him, making sure he could see my annoyance.
He frowned. I watched him dampen his chapped lips as his eyes wandered down to look at mine. “You sure seemed interested in all the other cowboys who’ve approached you. Pretty sure you love the attention.” His breath was rancid from cheap beer as he leaned toward me.
“Dude, get out of my fucking face.”
He stepped forward, blatantly ignoring me, but the dancers kept me locked in place so I couldn’t retreat. His hand went to my hip. The audacity that men have these days. Why am I fighting to be heard?
“One spin around the dance floor?”
“Buddy, when a girl says no, she means fucking ‘no.’” I pushed past him.
He wrapped his fingers around my bicep, ducking his head to whisper in my ear, “You sure were willing to put out for the last cowboy you met here.”
I froze, cold sweat washing over me. The last cowboy I met here? Did he mean Reed? How long had he been there without me noticing?
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I snapped, my voice an octave higher than the music, hoping to draw people’s attention to him. I wrenched my arm out of his snakelike grip. I could feel people turn to look at us. Good.
The dude was deranged because he smiled. He actually smiled. Like he enjoyed me telling him “no.”
“Only if you ask nicely,” he said as I barreled my way off the dance floor.
My eyes darted around the room, searching for Kale and Christian, but they were nowhere to be seen. Shit! My heart galloped as anxiety washed over me.
I bounded back over to the bar, cute bartender’s eyes lifting to mine. Thank you, whiskey gods. Pushing out a long breath, I forced a smile and sidled up to the bartop in front of him.
“Was the double shot not enough?” He chuckled, flashing his dimples.
“Not nearly.” I peeked over my shoulder to see if I was followed, but the spot on the dance floor was now empty. “I’m out of tokens, though.”
He shrugged, picked up a highball glass, and set it in front of me. “It’s on the house.” He spun a bottle, flipping it to pour straight whiskey. “The name’s Luke.”
“Thanks, Luke.”
His lips tipped. “Sure. It’s Lina, right?”
“Yes, it is.” I winked, taking a sip of my whiskey.
“Think you’ll stick around till closing?” he asked.
I turned slightly to look around me again. Still no sign of my friends. I wasn’t about to leave alone now.
“I think I actually might.” I tipped the glass to my lips, smiling over the rim.
Luke patted the bartop, beaming. “We’ll continue celebrating your win.”
I really wasn’t in the mood to celebrate my win anymore, but leaving the bar alone was no longer an option. And hell, maybe Luke could help turn this night around after all.