Chapter 7
POV: Cole?
It’s been less than 24 hours and I was beginning to feel like some fucking stalker.
And like I had the last few days, I was sitting in my truck, staring at The Saddle’s glowing bar sign.
Mentally, I already had staked my claim on her.
Though, I hadn’t yet physically—-I was dying to do so.
I hadn’t wanted a woman like I wanted her in years. Especially not one from Cody, Wyoming.
All the women here were predictable. Puckered lips, wide-eyed, batting their eyelashes, leaning far too obviously so I could catch a glimpse of their cleavage, and if that wasn’t blatantly obvious, then was the actual fact about 80% of them would actually offer up sex at the first glance.
Easy wasn’t fun. It never was. And that bored me.
You could easily dominate a woman like that, easily claim her—any man almost could.
But Abby…she was different.
My presence unsettled her, it was obvious to see physically—by her missteps, her stutters, the way her gaze lingered upon mine, that her attraction was evident. But she had a quiet disobedience to her, and that I wasn’t used to seeing. I liked her fire.
Possession was usually a means to an end for me, once I possessed a woman, once I had her once, it usually was enough. Enough for me to forget, enough for me to feel satiated, enough for me to realize that my interest was just as fickle as our connection.
But with her…I felt like I was losing my mind and all rational thought.
Abby was anything but rational.
She was a 22-year-old girl, who worked with her father at their family bar, and had little to no experience with men like me.
And I knew for a fact that Abby had never been with a man like me—she had never been dominated or possessed or put in her place.
It took everything inside me not to push her into the bathroom and have my way with her against the wall.
A part of me knew that it wouldn’t stop there with her—the obsession—the possession—the need to dominate her emotionally and physically. The need for her to belong to me. Because I knew that the fire that blazed so wild inside her was never going to be dulled.
I could see her moving around behind the bar, like she was on a mission of sorts, cleaning countertops, shining glasses, serving drinks and shaking her ass to the sway of the classic country music in another sundress. This one was blue.
It was near 7:00 pm now, the bar was half way filled, and I’ve been watching her from my truck for the last 20 minutes and apparently, so has every other man in the bar.
She was hard not to watch, though she hadn’t bothered to notice their attention, like she had noticed mine.
By the time I entered the bar, I could feel the eyes upon me. The women—hungry eyed and obvious.
But the only one I wanted to look at me was busy leaning over the bar, laughing with a man in a brand new cowboy hat.
“Fucking poser,” I muttered under my breath, sliding into a seat on the opposite end of the bar and watching their exchange.
The raven haired girl next to me, took it upon herself to straighten her shoulders and push out her tits, hoping that would do the trick.
I tapped my fingers along the bar countertop, keeping my gaze on the drink shelves ahead of me.
“Hi I’m Lisa, I’m visiting for the weekend.”
Of course she was.
I turned slightly, making eye contact with her, without smiling, hoping that would deter her.
But women like her were never deterred. “You must be a real cowboy.”
Goddamn tourists.
She continued on, drowning out the sound of my thoughts as my gaze fixated on Abby still laughing with the wannabe cowboy.
But the second I entertained the tourist’s attention, Abby strolled over, almost rolling her eyes. She smiled, though I knew she didn’t mean it. “What are you two having?”
“Bourbon on rocks.”
“And your date?” Abby teased.
I gave her a single look.
And before the woman could start off rambling I got to my feet and walked towards the other side of the bar.
“You can’t leave when you just ordered a drink!” Abby called out.
I plopped down right in the newly empty seat next to the wannabe cowboy.
She rolled her eyes before going off to make my drink and make her rounds at the bar.
That’s when the wannabe cowboy decided to strike up a conversation with me, “she’s got a tight ass on her, doesn’t she?” he smirked, taking a sip of his beer.
My jaw ticked as I clamped down hard on my teeth, trying to not lose it from his words.
But he kept going, “I bet she’s fun in bed too—-young and wild.” That cocky grin was plastered on his face again.
And I couldn’t stop what happened next.
Fist to face.
I knocked him right off of the stool and he lost his balance as his knee slid to the floor.
But he recovered faster than I thought, so I grabbed him by his collar, lifting him off of the ground, then dragging him by his feet as he tried to land punches that wouldn’t connect. I slammed him against the door, before hauling it open then tossing him outside without a single word.
He began to motherfuck me but I gave him a look that could only mean one thing—try me.
And he knew better not to.
The sound of boots echoed behind me in quick taps.
I turned and saw Abby standing there, a mixture of shock and awe on her face. “What the fuck was that about?” she yelled, crossing her arms.
“I didn’t like the way he looked. Wannabe cowboy,” I shrugged.
Abby scoffed, a scowl forming on her face as she narrowed her eyes. “That’s not funny, Cole. This is my family’s bar, you can’t just kick people out.”
“Well, he’s welcome to come back.”
But the wannabe was already walking down the sidewalk, far, far away from here.
“Looks like he doesn’t want to.”
Her eyes narrowed even further as she studied me, before finally turning on her heels, shaking her head and sauntering away.
She didn’t know it yet, but she was already mine.