Chapter Three
The wall clock’s second hand clicked past nine as Skylar sat on a stool at the bar.
She smiled at the bartender as she wiped the surface.
Low lamplight cast a warm glow over the polished bottles lined behind the bar.
A murmur of conversations and the distant clink of ice in glasses drifted through the air.
She’d been here since seven-thirty, nursing her second whiskey sour so slowly it barely registered; she didn’t want to dull her senses, only to kill the hours until he arrived.
But he hadn’t shown, and maybe he wasn’t going to.
He could have had a date. Well, that sure stuck in her craw.
Skylar sighed and lifted the glass, watching the golden liquid slosh within. The scent of cologne mingled with the sharp tang of lemon in her glass. She raised a hand for another drink, her pulse already pounding with impatience, when a low male voice said beside her, “Hello.”
Her heart lurched, this was it, right? She spun around with a hopeful smile, but the face that met hers belonged to a cowboy in a dusty Stetson, his cologne clinging so strong, she wondered if he’d taken a bath in it.
“Hello,” she managed, voice neutral and looked behind him to see four other men standing behind him, with grins on their faces, egging him on.
“Mind if I buy you a drink?” his tone was polite but insistent.
She tightened her lips and shook her head. “No, thank you. I just ordered one.” She allowed the barest upward tilt to her lips.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe later, then. Name’s Axel.” He extended his hand.
Skylar bit back a sigh and accepted his handshake, a firm, calloused grip that made her shoulder ache. “Skylar McCoy.”
“Skylar, that’s a lovely name for a lovely woman.” He smiled.
Unimpressed, she murmured, “Thank you,” and stared down at her drink.
“Are you a tourist, or do you live around here?” he asked, leaning closer.
She glanced at him. “You first.”
“I’m passing through, but not right away. You?”
She chewed on the edge of her bottom lip. “Actually, I just moved here.”
His grin widened. “Lucky break for me, huh? I’ll be around for a while. Maybe we could grab dinner one night.”
Skylar forced a polite smile, twisting her straw between slender fingers. When his calloused palm drifted to her forearm, she jerked away as though burned. “Don’t touch me.”
He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, I was only trying to be nice.”
“Touching a woman without permission isn’t nice. Move on, please.” Her voice was cool, unwavering.
“No need to get upset. It’s a habit of mine when I talk.” He shrugged.
“Look, it’s nice of you to offer to buy me a drink, but no thank you.” She smiled at Dixie, one of the bartenders, when she sat another whiskey sour in front of her. “Thanks, Dixie.” She looked at the man. “This is my last one.” She smiled at Dixie as she handed her a credit card.
Skylar lifted her glass, took a slow sip, and moaned.
She could hear that cowboy behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see him talking with the other four men, also in cowboy hats.
She caught snippets of their conversation and if she heard her name, she would not be happy.
Why is it, when a man gets turned down, it’s the woman’s fault?
Don’t they realize it’s something about them, not the woman?
She could hear them but couldn’t make out what they were saying.
All she knew was they gave her the creeps, and she wanted to be far away from them.
“Are you sure I can’t buy you a drink?” the cowboy said as he slid onto the empty stool beside her.
“I’m sure. I’m waiting for someone.”
“You said you were leaving.” His eyebrows rose.
Skylar looked at him. “I never said I was leaving. I said this was my last drink.”
The man looked at his watch. “It’s awfully late. Maybe he isn’t going to show.” He grinned when she looked at him.
“It doesn’t matter whether he shows up or not. You’re striking out. I am not interested.”
When he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, she stiffened and stared at him.
“I can get you interested.”
“Looks like she’s not into you, Axel.”
“Fuck you, Hal.”
“Get your fucking hand off me,” she snapped as she pulled her wrist free. “Go. Away.”
“You think you’re so much. You’re not the only woman in the bar.”
“I’m happy to hear that, go find another one.”
When he grabbed her wrist again, she picked up her drink and threw it in his face, making him gasp. A bartender handed him a towel, and he wiped his face off, then clenched his jaw and leaned close to her.
“You’re going to fucking regret that,” he snarled.
“Hey, either find another place to sit or leave,” Scarlett, the owner of the bar, snapped.
“We’ll stay for a while.” They all ambled over to a table.
“Are you alright, Skylar?”
“Yes, thank you, Scarlett. I need to head home.”
“Let me have Noah walk you out.”
“No need. I’m parked right in front. Just keep them here a few minutes, please.”
“You got it.”
Skylar made her way through the throng to the wooden doors. The hot air snapped at her skin the moment she stepped outside.
Fumbling in her purse for her keys, she scolded herself for not having them in hand. A man’s deep voice stopped her cold, and she hoped it wasn’t the cowboy from inside.
“Hey.”
She exhaled, faced him, and her chest went tight. There he stood, tall, broad-shouldered, silhouetted by the streetlamp. His voice was gravelly smooth; his white cowboy hat shading his eyes. She swallowed, breath catching. Rawley.
He glanced over her shoulder. “Friends of yours?”
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” the cowboy said as he sauntered toward them, his friends behind him for support.
“He kept hitting on me and when I turned him down, he grabbed my arm, I threw my drink in his face, and he told me I’d regret it.”
Rawley’s gaze stayed on the five men, then shifted back to her, and back to the men.
“You threatened her?”
“It’s alright.” Skylar pulled at his arm.
“No, it’s not.” He stepped forward.
The man laughed. “You can’t take on five of us.”
Rawley stared at each man, then shifted his eyes to the cowboy.
“You need back up? Can’t take me on by yourself?”
“I’m sure they’ll want to get a few punches in. You’ll be kissing the asphalt.”
Rawley laughed. “We can make this fair.”
“How? We’re going to kick your ass.”
“I’m sure all five of you can, jumping me at once, but see, I also have back up.” He nodded to the group of men walking toward them.
When they reached Rawley, they stood behind the men.
“Problem here, Rawley?”
“I don’t think so. They were ready to jump me, but then, I saw you four and told him I had back up.”
Skylar watched as the four other men stood behind the cowboy and his friends.
She smiled when she saw Noah Conway, Liam Flynn, Logan Townson, and Dom Blackstone.
She met all of them earlier this evening when she had first arrived at the bar.
All their wives worked inside. All five looked intimidating as hell and she’d have to say the cowboy and his friends didn’t stand a chance.
“How about you get in your vehicles and leave,” Noah said.
“How about you make us?”
Rawley chuckled when Dom shook his head. “What are you? Twelve? Trust me, we can make you. Go home.”
After a few minutes, the cowboy and his friends walked to a pickup truck, climbed inside, then drove off.
“Are you alright?” Rawley asked her.
“Yes.”
“Thanks guys,” Rawley said to the men.
“We saw them walk out behind you,” Liam said to Skylar.
“I’m glad you did,” Skylar said.
Rawley looked at her. “You doubted me?”
She laughed. “Not really, but I was afraid they’d all jump you.”
“We’ll see you later,” Logan said, then after touching the brims of their hats, they walked back into the bar.
“He threatened you and you came out here alone?”
“Yeah.”
His jaw tightened. “Not the safest choice.”
She stole a glance down the empty block. “I’m beginning to realize that.”
“Then why were you alone in the bar?”
“Truth?” she challenged, head tilting.
“Always,” he said.
Skylar drew in a breath. “I was hoping you’d show, Rawley.”
Rawley’s brows lifted. “How do you know my name?”
She bit her lips, her cheeks warming. “I asked the bartender last night.”
He laughed and she loved the sound of it. Up close, he was even more striking; a few silver strands in his sideburns, and even from under his hat, his dark eyes were mesmerizing.
“So, now you’ve caught me at a disadvantage. What’s your name?”
“Skylar McCoy.” She held out her hand. His was warm, strong, and she felt the spark of something electric climb her arm.
His lips lifted into a grin. “You leaving already?”
She glanced at the bar’s neon sign blinking in the distance. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I’m here now.” He spread his arms. “I live about thirty minutes out.”
“I see. Well, maybe another time.”
His brow furrowed. “You’re really just going to leave me here?”
She shrugged, a playful tilt to her mouth. “It’s been a disappointing day and I’m tired.”
“Why disappointing?” he prodded, concern flickering in his eyes.
Skylar let out a rueful laugh. “I went to ride horses today at my friend’s place, but all the horses were out in the pasture. My stereo won’t pair with my phone in my SUV. I came here hoping to see you, and then…” She shook her head.
“Well, as I said, I’m here now.”
She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. He reached into his back pocket, removed his wallet and produced a crisp business card, the edges shimmering black in the lamplight. “All my numbers are there. Call me anytime. If I don’t answer, then text, I’m often out. I’m a—”
“Livestock agent,” she finished, accepting the card and tracing her finger over his name; Livestock Agent Rawley J. Bowman.
He raised a brow. “You asked the bartender that, too?”
She laughed, tucking the card in her coat pocket. “She volunteered that information.” Skylar gave him her number. “Phone works both ways.”