Chapter 2 #2
“I have two eyes and a pulse. Your boots are beautiful. Who’s not proud of you for taking a risk and doing something different?”
Her eyelashes flutter. “No one’s ever put it like that.
” Turning her head, she glances across the bar and thinks for a minute before turning back to me.
“My dad is a lawyer. My grandfather’s a lawyer.
My older brother went to law school and now works for my dad.
My younger brother is the only one who supports what I do, maybe because he’s still in college and doesn’t want to be a lawyer either.
But everyone else…they don’t get why I chose this career.
I know this is what I want to do.” She lifts her leg, turning her foot so I can admire her boot.
“But as I’m sure Mollie told you, Bellamy Brooks hasn’t done as well as we’d hoped it would by this point.
If it wasn’t for her inheritance, I’m not sure we’d be able to keep going. ”
“Now you can, though. So keep going.”
“You know, I’ve thought about quitting more times than I can count. But I just…when push comes to shove, I can’t do it. I love the job too much. Love our boots. I’m a creative at heart, so I know I’d be miserable if I was chained to a desk all day doing, I don’t know, whatever lawyers do.”
I offer her a tight smile, moving so that we’re standing side by side at the table. “But that’s what’s expected of you, so it’s hard not to feel pressure.”
“Yes! Sometimes I think it’d be easier to just fold and do what everyone else is doing. Like, sometimes I think they got it right and I got life all wrong, because look how hard I’m struggling.”
Setting my beer down, I wonder if it’s too soon to ask this girl on a date. I like how honest she is. How fearless. Intelligent. The way she thinks—her doubts—it’s like a breath of fresh air.
I understand where Wheeler is coming from. My brothers all seem so certain that the path they’re on is the right one. But me? I’m constantly questioning what I’m doing, where I’m going. If I’m asking for too much to want more than the admittedly great life that was passed down to me.
Being with someone like Wheeler makes me feel a little less alone. Maybe I’m not asking for too much.
“But really, why boots?” I ask. “How’d you decide on that particular…line of business, I guess?”
Wheeler steps toward me to pick up one of the darts, long forgotten, on the whiskey barrel table between us. She’s close enough that her knee brushes my leg. Awareness spreads like wildfire through my thigh and settles low in my middle.
Having chemistry with this woman on all different levels is the best kind of mindfuck there is. I connect plenty with people in a physical sense. But mentally? Emotionally?
Not often enough.
“I was born and raised in Texas. As a baby gift, my grandparents gave me my first pair of boots. They were powder pink. Soft soled, crib shoes basically, with the cutest white stitching. I always say that’s where my obsession started.
In preschool, all I would wear was cowboy boots.
Pink ones, glittery ones, ones with flowers and butterflies and princesses on them. Drove my mom crazy.”
“Cute.” I lean forward so that our knees touch against the side of the barrel.
Wheeler meets my eyes. They’re alive, liquid with interest. “But as I got older, I could never find just the right pair. I wanted classic shapes—you know, the pointy toes, the ear pulls, all that—but with a fun, fashion-forward twist. So Mollie and I decided to make them.”
“Of course you did.” I scoff.
She cuts me a look. “What does that mean?”
“Means…” I shake my head. “Most people would just go search online and settle for the least worst-looking cheap pair of boots they could find. But you decided to manufacture your own fucking boots. You know how hot that is?”
Leaning forward, she settles her elbows on the table. “You think I’m hot?”
She’s flirting now, the energy between us shifting.
Igniting.
An unexpected shadow of disappointment moves through me. I wanna take this girl home, no two ways about it. But I also wanna keep picking her brain. I see so much of myself in the things she’s saying. The struggles she’s working through.
For the first time in a long time, I actually wanna…well, take my time.
There’s a buzz in the back of my skull. That’s the only way I can describe the weird sixth sense I have when it comes to Ryder. Glancing across the bar, I see him watching me. Watching us, more like it.
He cocks a brow. You like this one, yeah?
I give him a tiny nod. I do.
Grinning, he brings his beer to his mouth.
For all his fucking around earlier, I know he’d never step on my toes when it comes to a girl.
Not only because he’s not a total dick but also because we have completely different tastes in women.
He likes country girls who can hold their liquor and who know every word to every Nirvana song. Bonus points if they’re brunette.
Me? I like girls who are going places. And yeah, if they have a nice ass, I don’t mind that.
Wheeler is definitely going places, and she definitely has the sexiest, cutest ass ever.
I don’t wanna fuck this up. If I move too fast, get too deep, I risk scaring her off. My hope is that she and I will be seeing a lot of each other going forward. Gotta keep this chemistry alive without blowing my proverbial load too soon.
Her mouth, though. It’s quick and smart and lush. I wanna kiss it almost as much as I wanna listen to the words that come out of it.
Judging by the way Wheeler keeps leaning forward, her leg pressing into mine and her tits on display, I may not have much choice in the matter.
“Surely I ain’t the first one who’s told you that.” I nod at her beer. “Want another?”
Figure that’s a good way to slow things down—one more beer, which I’ll nurse as long as possible. Gives me an excuse to keep the conversation and the darts going in the world’s best, worst game of edging.
“Yeah.” Wheeler nods, doing that thing where she digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She’s looking at my mouth now. “Sure, I’d love one. Thank you.”
“Be right back.” I gather our empty bottles between my fingers before gesturing to the board. “No cheating.”
“I’d never!” She gives my arm a playful shove. “Well, I would if it meant winning. But I don’t need to cheat to win.”
“Always so confident.”
“Well, yeah.” She’s grinning as she teases me.
She doing this on purpose? Veering into flirtatiousness so I don’t hit on any more sore spots?
The shit she said about her parents makes me think that maybe…
I don’t know, maybe she’s going through something.
Is she close with her family? Do they talk?
Are they fighting? I’m sensing sadness, but she’s given me so little to go on that I could be projecting.
I gotta be careful not to overstep. She’ll tell me what she wants me to know when she’s ready to tell it.
Problem is all of a sudden, I want to know everything.
Ryder picked right up on it: I like Wheeler.
She may want me. But that doesn’t mean she likes me back. I’m okay with that.
I’m okay with that, I repeat as I order another round and fight the growing crowd to bring the Shiners back to our table.
Only I’m not okay with the idea of hooking up with Wheeler tonight and never getting to talk to her so honestly—so openly—again. What if we sleep together, and then she wants nothing to do with me? What if getting naked makes things awkward?
Still, when Wheeler slides her hand onto the underside of my forearm as she accepts the beer I hold out to her, arousal bolts through me. I try very hard not to let it blot out my desire to get to know her better.
“Thanks, Duke.”
“Welcome, Wheeler.”
Relax. Shit’ll happen the way it’s supposed to.
I step into her touch, our legs mingling. I’ve rolled up my sleeves, so her fingers meet bare skin as she wraps them around my arm. She sips her beer. I sip mine. For the first time all night, I hear the music that’s pumping through the speakers overhead.
Garth. An oldie but a goodie.
“Do cowboys dance?” Wheeler starts to rock side to side. Her body, tits to thighs, brushes against mine.
I look down at her, unable to resist putting a hand on her waist to hold her against me. She feels impossibly soft. Impossibly warm. “The good ones do.”
“You wanna be good to me?”
Sweetheart, I’d be so good to you.
So fucking good.
My dick throbs. I take a deep breath. Let it out.
“What about our game?” I glance at the darts on the table. “You haven’t finished kicking my ass yet.”
Her eyes are dark as they rake over my face, catching on my mouth. “We’re done with darts, aren’t we?”
She’s not talking about darts. Well, she is. But she’s also talking about…talking. She knows all she needs to about me, and now she’s ready to get physical.
I’m not hurt. Just doesn’t feel right.
“I like playing darts with you, though.” I sip my beer.
Is that a flicker of surprise I see in her eyes? For a split second, I panic. I hope she doesn’t think I’m turning her down, does she?
I just don’t get why me wanting to get to know her better would come as a surprise to Wheeler. Surely I’m not the first guy to think she’s hot and interesting. Intelligent. Funny.
“I think I’d like dancing with you better,” she replies.
I look her in the eyes. “How ’bout this? You let me pick your brain for the rest of this game, and then we’ll dance. That a deal?”
Wheeler blinks, a funny expression on her face. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
She goes still.
Very, very still.
So does everything inside me. I swear I can feel my heart trip and fall over the curb of my rib cage.
Shit. I came on way too strong. I’ve made her uncomfortable, and now she’s not gonna talk to me. Definitely not gonna be yelling my name later.
I’m crushed by disappointment.
Crushed by the knowledge that I fucked up my one chance to make this bright, beautiful stranger mine.