15. Juliette
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
juliette
Slick & Saddle Saloon isn’t exactly a four-diamond sort of establishment. From the sawdust on the floor to the peanut shells strewn like a rustic accessory, let’s just say it’s a good thing the local whiskey flows liberally and the food is a notch above mediocre.
To think I actually agonized over what to wear tonight.
This place has seen me in everything from a corset, cut-off shorts, and boots on a Friday night to a pair of sweats and a vintage tee on a hungover Saturday morning.
Ain’t nothin’ going to shock this crowd.
But the truth of the matter is that I wanted to look like the exact opposite of the woman the guys saw this morning.
I wanted to impress them. Not with glittery baubles like my mama would insist on, or my usual rodeo wear, or even a fancy evening gown that gives the illusion of propriety, but with something that said Look!
There’s Jules Callahan. Woman. Mother. Omega.
And sure, maybe a pinch of sexy to go along with all that. I’m only twenty-eight after all.
Adjusting the strap of my dark brown, lacy tank bodysuit that slims in all the right places, I shake off my nerves.
After all, Gran said my ass looks fan-fucking-tastic in these deep blue denim flared jeans, and that woman’s sense of style is legendary.
With my favorite brown boots, matching Stetson, and a belt buckle with my rodeo namesake’s initials, the most important thing is that I feel beautiful—like I could snatch up any man in here I wanted.
Not that there are many, mind you. Men, that is.
Darling’s male-to-female ratio is tipped on the wrong side of the scale.
Music rushes out the door the second it opens, and when I step inside, I notice there’s already a crowd on the dance floor two-steppin’ to Johnny Cash.
So it’s one of those kinda nights. The kind where women make bad decisions usually named Bubba or Jim Bob.
I head for the bar, a long row of ass-filled stools proving what I already knew. It’s gonna be a busy night. Shay spots me, and the knowing smirk on her face tells me the boys must be here already. She’d never smile like that otherwise.
“The out-of-towners are over at the high-top in the corner.” She tips her head in that direction, simultaneously swiping a beer and sliding it across the counter to a man a few seats down who’s going to lose his eyeballs if he’s not careful.
With her long black hair, olive complexion, and light green eyes, the woman is a bombshell. But she’ll cut a man’s dick off from ten feet away if they even look like they might be checking her out. Let’s just say it’s earned her a reputation around these parts.
“What if I was here to see you?” I quip, leaning my elbows on the polished wood and placing my boot on the metal foot rail that runs along the base of the bar.
“I’d say you should have your head examined. Maybe that last event jumbled your circuits ‘cuz I definitely ain’t got the parts you’re lookin’ for. From what I can tell, the two that came in smelling like city are USDA Prime Grade beef, and one of them has a knot attached.”
One brow raises. “Says the woman who’s never interested.”
“I can appreciate the bull without wanting to ride him.”
My laughter draws a few eyes, but I pay them no mind. I’m used to the Nosey Nellies by now. “Give me two fingers of Luke’s whiskey. No more, no matter what.”
Her dark brows damn near shoot up to her hairline. “You goin’ soft on me, Jules?”
“Just want to keep my head on my shoulders, is all. Help a girl out, yeah?”
“You got it…”
“Thank—”
“Under one condition.” My head tilts as my eyes narrow. “I want all the details tomorrow. I may avoid knots like they’re full of hellfire and sin, but that doesn't mean a girl can’t live vicariously through her friends, ya hear me?”
I chuckle. “You think I’d kiss and tell?”
“Girl, I know you do. I was around four years ago, and those images still pop up in my B.O.B. highlight reel on occasion.”
“There is something wrong with you.”
“Too much shit to name.” She slides me a glass of amber liquid. “Now off with you. I’ve got customers to handle.”
“Hell yeah, you do,” Old Man Morris mutters from beside me. “Why you always ignorin’ me when Juliette comes in here, darlin’? I spend more money here ‘n she ever has.”
“You see her tits in that sexy tank?” Shay says with a whistle. “You come in here lookin’ like that, and I’d pay attention to you too.”
With a smile, I grab the glass, take a deep breath, and make my way through the crowd toward the table in the back corner.
I know why they picked this one. It’s further away from the ruckus on the dance floor, on the other side of the bar from the mechanical bull, and offers as much privacy as one can expect to find in a public place in this town.
The second I clear the bulk of the crowd, my eyes collide with Beck’s.
I damn near choke on my tongue. In just a simple black tee that I swear is stretched to within an inch of its existence and his backward hat, he gives me the same damn buzz in my blood that I had four years ago.
Like lightning zinging through my veins, it’s positively electric.
Beside him, Wyatt’s large grin finds me from under his dark Stetson, and I can’t stop the matching one from spreading across my face. He’s in an olive green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to show off forearms that have no right to be that sexy.
They stand as I approach, and nerves suddenly skitter across my skin. How do I greet them? Shake their hands? Go in for a friendly hug? A quick kiss on the cheek?
Beck makes the choice for me. Stepping closer, one hand slides around my lower back and draws me into his body for a hug that’s too intimate to be friendly but too casual to be more. At least until he gently kisses me on my forehead before stepping back.
“You look fucking stunning tonight, little mama.”
I’m not given much time to overthink the nickname that makes my stomach all warm and fuzzy because Wyatt quickly takes his place, grabbing my hand and dropping a sweet kiss to the back before looking up at me with the most genuine expression I’ve ever seen.
There’s no hint of insincerity or ulterior motive, just simple pleasure at the sight of me, and it takes my breath away.
“Courting officially starts now, hotshot.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a square jewelry box. One palm slides underneath to support my hand while the other sets the box on top of them. “I’m hoping this brings us good luck from now until our last sunset.”
My brain stutters, my eyes going wide.
“Open it, Jules,” Beck demands gently, a hint shy of his Alpha bark.
Wyatt’s hand beneath mine gives a little squeeze, and somehow the touch grounds me enough that I can remember basic bodily functions.
I take in a deep breath and exhale before slowly opening the lid.
Staring up at me is a delicate gold chain with a small golden horseshoe.
It’s simple yet elegant. Nothing that screams wealth, but the sparkle off the metal and the craftsmanship of the design tell me it's the opposite of cheap.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur. As is the sentiment behind it , but I keep that last bit to myself.
“May I?” His hopeful eyes meet mine, a plea in their depths.
“But we haven’t?—
“Doesn’t matter. It’s yours to keep regardless.”
I simply nod, unable to find my voice in light of his sincerity.
He eagerly removes the necklace from the box and steps closer.
The small action puts me face to chest with the Beta who smells like jasmine with a sprinkling of sea salt.
Wyatt’s scent immediately puts my body at ease as his hands slip around my neck to fasten my new gift there.
I take a deep breath in, sensing my frayed nerves smoothing out and my muscles relaxing the longer he’s close.
When he steps back, a sigh slips free, and I immediately bite my bottom lip to stem any further involuntary sounds.
Jesus fuck, Juliette. Pull yourself together.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “I’m cataloguing all the little things you do that I want a repeat of, and that was just added to the list.”
Good thing these jeans are a dark stonewash, otherwise it’s a real possibility the lovely patrons of this bar would see a damp spot at some point this evening.
“C’mon. Have a seat and we can talk.” Beck places a light hand on my back, gently guiding me to the tall chair in front of them.
The gesture isn’t meant to be provocative, but try to tell my lust-filled brain that. There’s this excited kind of energy sparking between all of us, the twang of country music providing the soundtrack for what I’m sure is a moment that is going to change my life forever.
How fitting.
“We wanted you to meet us here today to discuss any concerns or demands you may have for us. As my brother stated, as far as we’re concerned, courting has already begun.
We just want to make sure your needs and wants are met and your boundaries established so we don’t accidentally overstep them in our…
” He glances at Wyatt who just turns to me with a large grin.
“Eagerness.”
The way he says that one word is enough to send ten pairs of panties up in flames.
Beck chuckles as he gently takes my hand. “Be patient with us. We’ve been waiting for this moment for what seems like a lifetime. If we get too pushy or are moving too fast, just tell us. We’re big boys. We can handle it.”
Big boys, indeed.
My eyes dart between the brothers, noting their differences but more so their similarities. Things like their wide smiles, the square jaws, and the way their eyes crinkle when they laugh.
“ Both of you have been waiting?”
Wyatt adjusts his hat, a small blush tinting his cheeks. “I told you I was a fan.”