4. Ariella
FOUR
ARIELLA
LOOKING PRETTY, FEELING PETTY
He might be drop-dead gorgeous— climb him like a tree hot—but he was also out of his damn mind if he thought I was about to pretend to be his date, especially with such little information. Had he never watched Dateline?
Ugh. To be a man and never have to think of those things must be nice. Also, where the hell was my cousin?
“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m dead serious.” His voice was smooth, with a slow southern drawl that curled around the edges.
He tipped his felt cowboy hat just enough to let those green eyes lock onto mine. With the moody lighting of the bar, the color reminded me of the forest. I’d seen a lot of hot men in those hats since moving to Dallas. They were on every street corner practically, or that’s how it felt after coming from the decidedly cowboy-free Bay Area.
But none of them wore one like him.
His thick, corded arms and broad chest filled out every inch of his white T-shirt. I didn’t want to look down at what he was wearing below the bar top because if his thighs were as big as the rest of him, it would take an act of god to keep me from saying yes to whatever he asked.
“Ariella, dance on top of this bar.” Yes, hot, mysterious cowboy man, sir.
I should have turned him away before I started drooling, but the desperation in his tone and face was like kibble to me. Curse the Contreras’ trait that made me a chismosa.
He took my silence as a green light to keep pleading his case. “Look, it will only be for a minute. Then I’ll be out of your hair. I promise. In fact, for your trouble, I’ll cover your tab for tonight, too.”
I’d been distracted by the slight stubble on his chiseled jaw, wondering if the hair under his black hat was the same honeyed brunette color. But the second he got to the paying-for-shit part of his pitch, I snapped right out of my hot-man-hypnosis.
“Why does every man think that they can throw money around to get women to do what they want?”
“I—that—” His eyes widened in surprise. “That wasn’t what I was trying to imply, miss. I’m sure you don’t need me to pay for anything. I was just trying…I apologize.”
The ice over my heart thawed a bit at his genuine response.
Truthfully, it was adorable how flustered he was and how he sheepishly kept his gaze locked where his rough hands were splayed on the marble, like he needed the support. I’d clocked the callouses when he rubbed his face as he fumbled for a response. Hands like that had seen hard work before .
Against my better judgment, my attention traveled downward. I almost laughed when I reached his thick thighs. Of course they were covered in light-washed jeans. I’d bet every dollar to my name that stitched on his ass was that sexy Wrangler W.
This was god tempting me. I was sure of it.
Here I was, minding my own business, sticking to my vow of celibacy, and a hot man just happened to need me to be his date. Or…
I leaned closer to him, the alcohol skewing my depth perception enough that we were practically nose to nose. His nostrils flared slightly, but there was no indication that our proximity bothered him.
“Did Gracie put you up to this?” I asked, ignoring the fluttering feeling low in my stomach.
“Who?”
“Short, Mexican woman with a cute bob and bossy personality, but in a weirdly cheerful way. She probably got you to agree to this before even realizing it?” He looked more confused with every word.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he answered, eyeing me like I’d lost my mind.
Huh.
That last tequila shot I’d taken was a mistake because, at this point, I should’ve told him to get lost. Instead, the opposite sentiment fell from my liquor-loosened lips.
“Who’s this act for?”
“You’ll do it?” Shock colored his tone.
“Didn’t say that.” I gripped my drink, resisting the urge to massage away the wrinkle forming between his brows at my words. “Amazing how men manage to survive with your atrocious listening skills. I asked who you need me to fake being your date in front of?”
“Well, uh, it’s for my ex.” He winced, dragging a hand over the back of his thick neck, the apples of his cheeks tinged with pink.
And just like that, all the positive thoughts I’d had about him vanished.
Of course. It’s always an ex-girlfriend, a current girlfriend, or some kind of messy situationship. Here I was, giving him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe this act was for an agent or a boss. But nope. Odds were, he’d screwed her over, and now he wanted me to help him dodge the fallout.
“Sorry, Longest Ride,” I said with a shrug. “Girl code. I can’t help you hide from your ex.”
He sighed, running a hand over the back of his head like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. “You’re right. I’m sorry for bothering you. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He shifted, ready to leave. “Have a good night, ma’am.”
I opened my mouth to say something—what exactly? I had no clue—but a sharp voice cut me off.
“What a surprise seeing you here.” The words dripped with condescension. I turned toward the source, finding a tall blonde sauntering toward us, her expression dripping with contempt. “Really? This is what you decided to wear the first time you crawl out from that condo you’ve been hiding in?” She plucked at his shirt with a manicured hand, dropping it and brushing her fingers together like she touched a dirty rag. “God, you can’t function without me, can you? What’s your father going to say about this outfit?”
He stood perfectly still, his chest barely rising, like he was holding his breath. His expression had gone blank, but there was something almost too controlled about it, as if every muscle in his body was locked in place to keep him from reacting.
Instantly, my red-flag radar went off.
There was no way I knew what this man was thinking—hell, I didn’t even know his name—but somehow, deep in my gut, I knew he wished the polished concrete beneath his boots would crack open and swallow him whole.
Or her. Though honestly, maybe that was just me.
“And you wore that hat?” She sneered, ignoring how uncomfortable she was making him. His body language was practically screaming for her to leave him alone.
He hadn’t said a word.
My eyes bounced between the stunning woman who grew uglier by the minute and the equally stunning, silent mountain of a man beside me. The glint in her eyes was icy—malicious—and made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
But what got under my skin most wasn’t her words. It was how he seemed to fold in on himself with every insult like he wasn’t shocked at how she spoke to him. Like she’d done this before.
Rage simmered below the surface of my skin, threatening to erupt. I curled my fingers into fists, nails digging into my palms until little crescent moons marked my skin. I didn’t need to know a person’s name to want to stand up for them.
She liked this. I could see it in the way she stood—head high, shoulders back—landing verbal blows, knowing full well he wouldn’t throw any back.
The guy lucked out, picking me for this little charade. Because two things were true about me, every single time:
One, I was ordering the iced coffee regardless of the weather.
And two, I loved to throw back.
Plus, it pissed me off that she hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge my presence. All I’d gotten was a quick, dismissive glance. The kind people give when they think you’re too irrelevant to register, like I was the dirt beneath her outrageously expensive heels.
“Sorry, did you lose a contact?” I asked, layering on the condescension tone thick enough to cut with a knife. As I spoke, I deliberately shifted my body into her line of sight, making it impossible for her to pretend I didn’t exist.
For a second, surprise flickered across her face. She blinked, working to process what I’d said. But then the confusion twisted into a sneer. Or maybe that was just her resting face. Hard to tell if the look of superiority was a permanent feature or reserved for people she thought were beneath her.
“Excuse me?” she snapped.
“Emma, back off,” the once-silent cowboy said. The emotionless face from a moment ago was gone, replaced by something close to protectiveness.
Emma. Great. Another name I can’t use for my future children .
Not that I was planning on kids anytime soon, but with the rate things were going, I was running out of options. I should’ve probably been concerned about how long my list was, but instead I was too busy enjoying how color crawled up her neck. Her perfectly-powdered skin was breaking out in angry red splotches.
“Ugh, don’t be so sensitive,” she said, waving a dismissive hand like I wasn’t worth the effort.
“Don’t be so rude,” he shot back, his voice sharper this time.
Warmth spread through my chest. It was cute that he wanted to defend me. But he didn’t know me well enough to realize I didn’t need protecting.
You didn’t grow up in a family as big as mine and not know how to hold your own. No one could come for your throat quite like familia .
The difference was, they were lovable assholes. This woman was just an ass.
Emma was about to be sorely disappointed if she thought she could rattle me with a few cheap jabs.
“I asked if you lost a contact.” I motioned to her eyes. “Like, do you have bad eyesight and didn’t see me sitting here talking with him? Or are you just naturally that much of a bitch, and barge into conversations without acknowledging the person you interrupted?” I asked, finishing it off with the sweetest smile I could muster.
He choked on a laugh, trying—and failing—to hide it with a cough. I could feel the amusement radiating off him, but I kept my eyes locked on Emma, unwilling to break the stare-off. Her mouth opened and closed several times like a gaping fish .
Speechless.
People like her never knew how to handle someone who didn’t shrink under their glares, bad attitudes, and cutting words. I was a good judge of character, and something told me he wasn’t the shitty one in their relationship.
“Who the hell are you? I’ve never seen you before.” She looked me up and down, taking me in for the first time. “And how dare you speak to me like that. Did you hear what she just said to me?” she asked, whipping toward him, expecting backup. “You’re just going to let her tal?—”
“Oh, he doesn’t let me do anything,” I interrupted. “And how ironic that you are suddenly concerned about manners when you haven’t shown any since you walked over.”
Her blue eyes narrowed to slits, lips twisting like she’d just sucked on a lime. “Listen here, you bi?—”
“Emma,” he cut her off, his voice low and laced with warning. “I’d be real careful about what you say next. Because I promise—finishing that word won’t bode well for you.”
Her face was comical. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, she even threw in the scandalized gasp, loud enough to draw the attention of some of the other patrons. Her reaction to him shutting her down told me everything I needed to know. He was probably a stand-up guy, and she used that to her advantage, knowing he wouldn’t push back. The guy probably spent most of their relationship absorbing her toxicity in silence.
It pissed me off.
People who maliciously took advantage of others were everything that was wrong with the world, and while I couldn’t fix every injustice, I could help him out. I just hoped he would catch on and not ruin the performance I was about to put on.
“Babe.” I reached over and rested my hand on his thigh, causing his eyes to widen for a split second, but he didn’t miss a beat.
“Yeah, Sunshine?” he asked, intertwining our fingers and lifting them to his mouth to kiss the back of my hand. Acting like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach.
He doesn’t know you. This isn’t meant to be sentimental. It’s fake. You’re doing a good deed.
This is just the tequila…
Why is he staring into my soul like that?
Strawberry lip gloss coated my tongue as I swiped across my bottom lip, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth was, and those mossy eyes tracked the movement like a predator stalking its prey. Never in my life had I experienced being turned on by something as small as that.
“What the hell is going on here? What do you mean, babe ? There’s no way you’ve moved on. I would know.” Emma’s voice had so much disdain that I had to physically stop myself from rolling my eyes—or decking her. I couldn’t tell if her irritation was that he’d moved on, period, or moved on with someone who didn’t look like her.
“Well, maybe you should stop stalking him,” I said.
“Yeah, seriously,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for me to catch. How long had she been bothering him?
Before I could change my mind, I slid off the stool and stepped between his powerful legs, pulling my hand free and looping both arms around the back of his neck. From this position we were at eye level, and my breath hitched at the intensity of his attention.
The fire in that gaze was as palpable as the heat radiating from his inner thighs. Every part of this interaction sent electric shocks coursing through me. I should have thought this through, but I hadn’t predicted my body would react like this to a stranger.
It took Herculean strength to pull my eyes away and look at his ex, who stood not a foot away now. She looked mad enough to spit.
It was borderline comical.
“He’s moved on, but maybe you haven’t? I mean, I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’re still standing here bothering us.”
Rough hands landed on my hips, his thumbs brushing the sliver of exposed skin between the waistband of my jeans and my top. Suddenly, I was no longer standing between his thighs but sitting on top of them. Caged in by a pair of strong arms.
“There’s no way he’s moved on from me,” she spat, stomping her foot.
His chest rumbled against my side as he spoke. “Believe it or not, Emma, the world doesn’t revolve around you. And neither does my life. I’ve left you alone, and I’d appreciate it if you did the same. ”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Please, you were always so sensitive.”
That was it. She’d done enough damage to this poor man for one night.
“Babe.” I leaned in close like I was sharing a secret meant only for him, but my voice was loud enough for her to hear. “Let’s get out of here. Go somewhere more…private.”
I squirmed on his lap under the intensity of his gaze, gasping when his grip tightened as he held me still. “If you keep moving, we won’t be going anywhere very soon,” he said with a smirk. It took a second to catch on to what he was implying, but the firm bulge pressed to my hip clued me in pretty quickly. I bit my bottom lip, and he smirked.
What the hell did they put in these drinks?
This was so far outside my normal behavior.
“But yeah, darlin’,” he said, his voice as smooth and warm as honey, the Texan gentlemen really coming out. “We can do whatever you want.”
I had to focus to keep from melting into a puddle at his feet.
This is fake. This is fake. This is fake.
The mantra didn’t do shit when he shot me a smile that was borderline boyish, like he meant what he was saying. That he wanted to do whatever I wanted. I stood, needing to cut the connection before I did something rash like kiss the stupidly handsome face of a man I didn’t know.
“I hope you find your contacts and a better attitude,” I said, hitting his ex’s arm with my shoulder as I pushed past her, pulling him behind me.