Chapter 21 Twenty #2
She made sure her door was locked, then, in another quick movement, she spun, her white skirt billowing around her. I had to remind my legs how to move. One foot in front of the other, Hartwell. You know how to walk.
“What’s the place called?” she asked, spinning again to face me, her hair flying in all directions.
I coughed, “It’s uh—” I stumbled. Damnit…if I didn’t watch myself, I’d trip over my own boots. “The Westerner.”
“Seriously?” She chuckled. “And they have line dancing and pool tables?”
“I can’t promise dancing, but I can tell you right now we’re not playing pool.” I blinked, my ability to walk finally being returned to my legs. Quinn was already down the hall, so I had to jog a few steps to catch up with her. “You beat my ass that one time, and I can’t make another bet.”
“We can think of something, can’t we?”
“No pool.” I pointed at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, no pool.”
Together, we walked out onto the street, the night air still chilly even though we were well into spring.
I was still in my jeans, T-shirt, and flannel…
I could only imagine how cold Quinn must be feeling.
I glanced at her legs, noticing the small goosebumps that prickled her skin.
My gaze trailed up to her arms, and the same goosebumps spread over her shoulders.
The urge to run my knuckle down her bare shoulder was extremely potent, as was the temptation to shed off my flannel and drape it over her shoulders, but with the way she was moving, she probably didn’t even notice the cold.
So…instead of giving in to my impulsive thought of touching her, I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Here we are!” Quinn skipped the final three steps to the door and reached for the handle.
I beat her to it and pulled it open, the thick music reaching all the way to the street.
“Oh my God, the vibes. Good pick, Hartwell. Drink first, then dancing.” She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me to the bar.
She didn’t have to drag me—I would willingly follow her anywhere she’d want to go at this point.
Pushing through a small crowd, we sat at the bar top and ordered two lagers, and the second the bartender laid eyes on Quinn, he knew exactly who she was.
He leaned in, his voice a little shaky as he made sure she was, in fact, Quinn Compton.
When she nodded and leaned forward, he was so completely lost, I was shocked he remembered to serve us our drinks.
Apparently, the local rodeos were bigger than college football in The Westerner, and the bartender—Brad—was a huge fan of barrel racing.
Meeting Quinn was the highlight of his night.
And, once they started talking, I was invisible.
Her smile grew as Brad recapped her rides the last few nights, even commenting on her ride tonight.
Quinn blushed and giggled as the conversation started to flow through them.
And that wonderful pit of jealously grew in my stomach.
I heaved a sigh and spread my legs a little wider, making sure my knee was touching her.
I grabbed my drink and took a long gulp, my eyes flying between Quinn and Brad.
Reminding myself that Quinn was not mine to be jealous over, I pulled my phone from my pocket. A good doom scroll would hopefully distract me.
Heading directly to the PRCA website, I checked Quinn’s standing, not even shocked when I saw her sitting in third place.
I clicked on her profile and scrolled. It had all her past times and events listed for the year so far, including tonight’s win.
I had been the one to constantly check her stats—and she was going up and up.
There was no doubt in my mind that she would be number one soon.
My phone pinged, and a text banner dropped.
Abi
Quinn was amazing tonight! She must be over the moon.
Me
She is. Just checked her standing. Third in the nation.
Abi
Damn—does she know?
Me
Not sure, but she will.
Abi
Make sure she celebrates. I know she’s big on her schedules, but…get her out.
“Hey, Compton,” I said, a little spark in my chest when she turned around from Brad. I raised my phone and aimed it at her. “Smile,” I said, looking at her from over the top of my phone.
Quinn raised her chin and smiled at the camera, her beauty almost just as mesmerizing on the screen as it was in real life. I lowered my phone and looked at her on the screen, making sure to mark it as a favorite before I sent it off to Abi.
“Who’s that for?” she asked, leaning away from Brad and close to me. Her hat lightly touched my forehead as my screen lit up in between us.
Abi
Oh my lord, she’s at a bar! Good job, bro.
Me
It was her idea.
Abi
I think you’re rubbing off on her.
Oh—I saw the announcement. I’m sorry, Wyatt, it wasn’t meant to be. They’re missing out.
“Who’s missing out?” Quinn said, pulling my attention back to her.
I locked my phone and shoved it back in my pocket. “No one. Just had to show Abi proof of you in a bar.”
“Wyatt.” Quinn’s voice dropped. “No deflecting. Who’s missing out?”
I licked my lips. “No one,” I repeated.
“Is it her?” Raising her glass, she lifted her pointer finger and gestured behind me. “Is she missing out on Wyatt Hartwell?”
Twisting my torso, I saw the group of girls she was pointing at.
A brunette stood in the middle of the group, raising a cocktail to her lips, and when her eyes met mine, her grin turned downright sexy.
If Hawkins or Sam were next to me, hell, even Lachlan or Rhett, I’d stand up and make my way over to her, make sure she wasn’t ‘missing out’ on anything.
But I had a photo in my phone to prove that I was already sitting next to the most gorgeous woman in the bar, and there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
I turned back to her, a single eyebrow raised. “You playing my wingman?”
She shrugged her shoulder. “Why not? There are a lot of girls here who could be your type.” She looked around the room. “I kinda wanna see you in action.”
I leaned in. “I told you, Quinn, you’re the only one I’m chasing.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me who’s missing out?” She arched her back and raised a brow.
My lips curved as I sat back up, reaching for my lager. I took a sip and let it loose. “Reno. They took my name off the broadcaster bill. I was hoping to announce.”
She narrowed her eyes, her back straightening. “I didn’t know you put your name in for the committee.”
“I didn’t, but it ended up there anyway. You know I’m not taking time off by choice.”
She leaned in, the gleam in her eye telling me she wanted more of the story. “Okay, I know you said you did something stupid…”
“I did.”
“But let’s be real here, how stupid a thing did you do to end up with your name taken out of committees?”
I heaved a sigh and took another pull from my drink.
“Started a fight that ended with me and the other guy going to the ER. He just happened to be a head of a committee that has some strong connections, and now I’m having a hard time finding any jobs.
Hawkins has been trying to help, but has had no luck. I was hoping Reno would be a shoo-in.”
“Why did you get in a fight? No wait—” She held up a palm to stop me before I could even begin. “You slept with his wife?”
I jerked my head back, my eyes widening and brow pinching. “Why the fuck is that the first thing that popped in your head?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. I figured it had to be dramatic in order for you to really get pissed. I’ve known you for three months now—”
“Four…almost five.” I corrected her, doing quick math in my head. Five. Five months, we have been in each other’s lives.
“—and I’ve never really seen you upset.” She kept talking as if she didn’t even hear me. “I mean, I’ve seen your smile fade, but it’s not like you to start a fight.”
“Well, yeah…I did start it, but it wasn’t because I slept with the man’s wife. I wouldn’t be the guy someone cheats on their husband with, and before you start,”—I noticed her jaw open and close, her lips tightening—“it’s almost happened. Found out she was married and put a stop to it.”
“So what caused it then. What made you so mad that you had to send someone to the hospital?”
They were talking about you, how you were cheating your way to the top because there was no way you could climb that high after an accident like you had.
How you were sleeping with the judges to change your times.
How you were riding on your dad’s coattails, and that you had no idea what was really waiting for you.
And how if you were already cheating…maybe they could get something else out of you in order to get you higher…
But I couldn’t tell her that, now could I?
“Honestly, it was so long ago I don’t remember,” I lied.
She narrowed her eyes and raised her glass to her lips, but before the glass touched her lipstick, “Boot Scootin' Boogie” began to play over the speakers, louder than the rest of the music.
The entire bar erupted in cheers, and people began to gather in the center of the room.
Quinn let out a sharp gasp and placed her beer on the table, grabbing my sleeve once again, pulling me through the crowd, the topic at hand all but forgotten.
“Show me your moves.” She smiled, stopping us once we reached the middle of the dance floor, forcing me to stand next to her as the entire place started dancing in sync.
I knew all the steps by heart—you don’t grow up in Alpine Ridge and not learn this dance, so as my feet moved on their own, I watched Quinn the entire time, and fell a little harder.
We danced, we drank, we talked and laughed, we played a game of darts—which I let her win—then right before last call, Quinn linked her arm in mine, and we made our way back to the hotel.
The topics of Reno, my fight, or her mom not coming up a single time, making the statement Quinn had said hours prior that no bad news could kill this high a fact.
And this time, on the walk back, I draped my flannel across her shoulders.
I walked her to her door, not even worrying that she had my shirt, and stood in the hall as she stepped inside.
We said a soft goodnight, the air heavy between us, and I turned—my room just down the hall, yet too far away.
“Hey, Wyatt.”
I turned, seeing her head poking from her door. I raised my brow in question.
“I really am sorry about Reno, but…you’ll still come with me, right? I’m there for six of the ten days, and I’d really love you to—”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Her eyes smiled. “Night, Hartwell.”
“Sleep well, Compton.”