9 - Sawyer
9
Sawyer
This fucking girl was stuck in my head like a bad idea.
This wasn’t like me. I hated places that made the women show some skin, like Hooters. I wasn’t a loser who needed to pay to see a pair of tits. I’d never had a problem in that area. Billy Bob’s wasn’t that bad, but the bartenders and waitresses still had the same bullshit dress code. Flannel shirts with one button too many opened down the middle. Jean shorts that were so far up their ass they might as well have been a denim thong. Flirty smiles and bashed eyelashes.
It wasn’t my kind of place.
Until Sophie walked into my camp.
Her friend was smoking-hot too, but I couldn’t look away from Sophie. Silky blonde hair and eyes that cut like daggers. A confident little sway in her step, and a sly smile with perfect pursed lips that might kiss or insult, depending on her mood.
My heart was racing from the moment she walked up, and didn’t slow down until long after they had left.
For her, I would make an exception and visit a place like Billy Bob’s. For just the chance at seeing which choice her lips would make that night, insult or kiss.
But they were already there.
I had nothing against Elijah and Johnny. As far as rodeo competition went, they weren’t shitty. I didn’t hate their fucking guts the way I did Chris Appleton or some of the other cocky rodeo fuckers I was forced to be around.
But I didn’t like competition. And I hated playing games. That wasn’t my style. If a woman wanted to pit three men against each other with her flirty smiles, I would bail like she was a rodeo bull with its balls tied in a knot.
My feet wouldn’t leave the honky tonk, though. Something about Sophie made me stay close, like she had thrown a lasso around my waist.
And every time I caught a glimpse of those perfect blue eyes, the lasso tightened a little bit more.
I stuck around that first night with my throwing knives. Then, after the opening ceremony, I came back and told myself it was because I wanted to listen to live music. It was the truth—Billy Bob’s had too many music stages to count, and all of them had someone strumming the guitar.
But I was only lying to myself. It wasn’t the real reason I was there. Every few minutes I felt that lasso tug, and I would glance toward the bar where she was working, fake-flirting with all the asshole customers who came to a place like this.
What the hell was wrong with me?
The rodeo was where I came to have fun. Women loved a cowboy, and damned if I didn’t know how to play the part. I was usually drowning in pussy without even trying. I enjoyed it more than the rodeo itself.
But this year? I felt different.
In the three days since I rolled my truck and trailer into town, I’d had plenty of opportunities. That first night at Billy Bob’s, two women sauntered up and asked me about my throwing knives, playfully demanding that I show them how to throw.
I brushed them off.
Then tonight, while listening to a guy who sounded a lot like Morgan Wallen strum his guitar, three different women hit on me. I didn’t have to do anything; I just stood there nursing my liquor and nodding my head with the music, and they came over and started dancing near me. Smiling, making eye contact. Inviting me in with the way they swayed their hips. One of them had curves so fine I felt my mouth watering just at the thought of tasting her.
But my cock wasn’t interested. Not even a flicker of excitement when she ground her ass against my thigh and gazed over her shoulder with a sultry promise in her eyes.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
The only time I felt anything was when I glanced over at the bar, where Sophie was matching Johnny and Elijah shot-for-shot. I chuckled to myself. I’d tended bar before, and knew she was using a trick bottle with fake liquor. Of course those two fools would fall for it. They were caught up in her spell even worse than I was.
The way she handled them, and all the other harassing customers, made me want her even more. Fuck damsels in distress. I liked a woman who could take care of herself.
Speaking of taking care of themselves…
Elijah had an arm around Johnny and was leading him through the crowd. He was in rough shape after trying to outdrink Sophie, head rolling around on his neck like a ragdoll. Johnny leaned on Elijah more with every step, and after twenty feet it was clear they wouldn’t make it out of the bar without help.
I glanced toward the bar, and my gaze collided with Sophie’s. The overhead lights caught her eyes just right, making them shine like polished sapphires. She seemed surprised that I was still here.
Fuck. Now she was going to think I was hanging around because of her.
I turned and put an arm around Johnny from the other side. “Thought you could outdrink a bartender, did you?” I asked.
“She’s like a buck-twenty,” Elijah argued. “I knew she might cheat, but I thought I could keep up.”
I blinked at him. “You knew she was pouring herself fake liquor?”
“Probably, yeah.”
“Then why’d you go shot-for-shot with her?”
Elijah looked at me like it was obvious. “For a girl like her? It was worth trying.”
I glanced over my shoulder, catching one final glimpse of Sophie grabbing a liquor bottle from the top shelf.
Elijah was kind of an idiot, but he was right. Sophie was worth trying.
Fuck.