Chapter 3
Amy
I felt ridiculous in this outfit.
Dee had talked me into wearing one of the t-shirts we’d been sent as a store sample by a vendor. But it was a few sizes too small, and I knew my belly was on display more than my boobs.
Then she’d loaned me a frilly set of pink cowgirl boots and the matching hat to go with it. It was a ridiculous over the top outfit, and it had seemed like a much better idea when I’d been bravely looking at it in her bedroom mirror.
Now that I was in public, all I wanted to do was change into something less attention-grabbing.
Especially at a bar like this.
I’d never been to the Bear Den before. I’d actually never been to Red Oak Mountain, despite it being within driving distance of Fernwood.
And after taking one look around this place, I saw that everyone here, with the exception of us and a group of college girls, all looked like genuine country folk.
Regardless of what Dee had said earlier, this crowd definitely leaned way more in the rugged mountain man direction. There were a lot of flannel shirts and work boots filling this place up. Not so many cowboy hats.
Why’s every man in this place over six feet tall and stacked with muscles?
“Is this where they’ve been hiding all the hotties?” Dee’s friend Sharon asked.
Dee laughed. “I told you it was worth the drive.”
They didn’t make men like this in Fernwood. That was for sure.
As I looked around in a daze, bewildered by all the hot, hunky man-muscles on display, the other girls ordered drinks.
Dee’s eyes got wide, and she whispered, “There is a serious chunk of man looking over this way.”
All five of us turned in unison to see who she was talking about.
Oh.
My.
God.
He might have been the hottest man I’d ever seen in my life. He had rugged eyes that showed the grit of a working man. And a big, thick beard that I wanted to tangle my fingers in and use to yank his perfectly kissable lips onto mine.
Sharon said, “I could ride that stallion all night long,” and all the girls tittered.
Except for me. I just stood there speechless, shocked when his eyes landed on mine and never left.
Dee gasped. “I think he’s into Amy! Do you see the way he’s staring at her?”
I swallowed hard.
A man like that might look fine in a bar like this on a Friday night.
But where would he be on Monday morning?
I didn’t tangle with men anymore for that very reason. And Mr. Flannel over there was entirely too hot for me. Even for a one-night stand. Surely he was just confused with his dusky eyes locked onto mine, the tiniest curl peeking up on the edge of his lips.
“Holy fucking shit. He’s really into Amy. He’s practically drooling.” Dee said.
Sharon pouted, “But I wanted that one for myself.”
Thoughts of Chris rolled through my head. He’d soured me on mankind. So I dropped my eyes from the Hottie-McHunkster and said, “He’s all yours, hon. I don’t have the bandwidth to play with a stallion like that.”
“Really?” she asked. “Because I will go talk to him. You sure you don’t want dibs?”
A tiny pinch landed in my heart, and I glanced back over at him.
He was still staring right at me, with a feral look on his face, like he wanted to take me right here on the bar.
I flushed bright red and looked away. “Yeah. I’m sure. I don’t think I could handle a ride like that.”
Sharon giggled and announced, “Your loss,” as she wiggled her way over to him, using all her feminine assets to catch him.
That man looked like he would be a life-changing one-night stand.
But I didn’t need my life changed. I needed a steady, even keel.
Give me an accountant. Or a financial advisor. Maybe a mid-level manager. Not whatever that steaming hot mountain beast was.
I vowed to spend the rest of the night avoiding eye contact with him.
Sharon came back a minute later, disappointed and unsuccessful in her mission. She said his name was Dawson, and that he seemed really nice. But that he’d shown zero interest in her.
When I snuck a glance his way, I saw that he’d gone back to the booth where his friend was sitting. He was another big, burly man in flannel. Was that like a dress code around here?
After settling into the girl’s night out vibe, and getting a few drinks in me, I felt a lot better. I almost forgot about my too-tight shirt, and the way these boots pinched my feet.
And despite that, hanging out with the ladies was fun.
We got out on the dance floor and shook our butts for the crowd, played a disastrous game of darts, and waited for one of the pool tables to open up.
It was during our first game of pool that the whole night went sideways.
As I was trying to make a corner pocket shot, I glanced up as the door to the bar swung open. The shot went bad, and the cue ball flew off the table, rolling across the well-used floor of the bar.
It rolled right to the feet of the sexy mountain man I’d been avoiding all night long. The one with the hungry eyes and the devilish lips.
But the reason I’d lost the shot was even worse than that.
Chris Macon had just walked in the door with a gorgeous woman on his arm. He was wearing a big cowboy hat and strutting like he was the main thing on display.
Chris just happened to be my ex. And the one who had permanently turned me off men.
He looked good, but I had to admit that around these serious mountain men his cowboy swagger seemed a little contrived.
But who was I to talk? I was wearing a pair of pink cowgirl boots that had never seen mud or a cow a single day of their life.
Damn it. Chris was sure to see me at some point. But I wouldn’t go out of my way to say hi to him or hide from him. If I’d had my own car here, maybe I would have tried to sneak out the door. But we’d all carpooled, and I was stuck here until the rest of the ladies decided to leave.
I looked away just as Chris planted a kiss on his gorgeous date’s cheek.
“Just a second, ladies. Let me go get my ball,” I said.
Embarrassed as hell at scratching the ball, I made my way over to sexy-as-sin.
His buddy nudged him under the table as I approached, and just as I got there, he turned his head to look at me.
His eyes lit up when he saw that it was me.
Then he grinned and pointed at my shirt. “Too bad I’m not a cowboy. You ever swing the other way?”
“Oh, uh, that’s funny,” I told him in nervous response. “My ball just rolled under your feet.”
His grin didn’t slip.
“That’s a shame. I was hoping you were coming over to flirt with me. I’m Dawson.”
I kneeled down to pick up the cue ball, coming face to face with his thick thighs and big boots as I did.
The man was delicious.
Which made him dangerous.
Holding up the cue ball, I stammered out, “I got it out now. Thanks. Sorry for interrupting!”
A strong hand looped around my wrist, cupping it gently.
Dawson rumbled, “Wait. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
From any other man, I would have felt affronted. It was presumptuous to grab me like that.
But when this man did it, it felt more like he was just trying to get my attention. He dropped his hand quickly and waited for me to answer.
“Uh, I’m Amy. Nice to meet you both. I should get back to my friends.”
Dawson gave me a smoldering look of regret, but didn’t try to keep me there. “You go on back to your game of pool then, Amy-who-lights-up-the-night. I’ll just stay here and watch you play.”
His voice was a husky drawl that drew me in.
But men like that, they were all the same. Men like that were just like my ex.
And this one would probably shatter my pussy, ruining it for any other man who ever came along afterwards.
Plus, I knew that a one-night stand with a hot hunk of a man like this would leave me feeling lonelier than now after he ghosted my texts the next day.
So I shut him down with a small nod of my head and told him, “Take care, Dawson.” Then went back to my friends.