Chapter 3
MAGGIE
The moment I pushed through The Dusty Spur’s front doors, the smell of beer hit me and my fingers tightened around my keys until the metal bit into my palm. After yesterday’s call with Ella, my nerves were already raw and exposed.
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t look for him, but my eyes betrayed me, scanning the crowd until they locked on Hunter.
There he was, one boot propped against the bar rail, his worn jeans pulled tight across his thighs, while some brunette’s fingertips trailed down his forearm.
She laughed, leaning in close enough that her hair brushed his shoulder.
His jaw tightened, a muscle flexing beneath his stubble, before his eyes flicked up, locking with mine across the room as if he’d been waiting for me to walk through those doors.
Something dangerous flickered there as his gaze slowly dragged down my body, and heat burned away everything but the two of us.
When his eyes lingered on the short cut of my dress, where the fabric rode high on my thighs, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his calloused hands there instead.
And I couldn’t lie to myself. The look he was giving me right now, the way he swallowed hard as he took me in, it was the exact reason I’d pulled this dress out of my closet.
His gaze moved over me like he had every right to, and heat pooled low in my belly when he licked his bottom lip, without paying a bit of attention to the woman at his side.
I watched, my breath catching, as he lifted his beer to his mouth and took a long, slow pull.
His throat worked as he swallowed, and when his eyes finally met mine again, I swear the whole bar faded away.
The bar was packed, loud with laughter and the twang of some old country song straining through the speakers, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel the weight of his stare like hands on my skin.
“Maggie!” Blaire’s voice hit me, and I tore my eyes away from Hunter’s to find her waving from a corner booth.
I forced a smile as I navigated through the crowd toward her. The Dusty Spur hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I was here, but tonight felt different. My skin hummed, too sensitive, too aware.
I told myself it was just the aftermath of Ella’s call and not the weight of those eyes I could still feel tracking me across the room.
“You’re late,” Blaire called, though her eyes sparkled as I made it to the table. “I was starting to think you bailed on us.”
“As if I’d ever leave you here to fend for yourself with them,” I shot back as I dropped into the booth beside McCoy.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, and he laughed as he looked down at me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? We are nothing but perfect angels.”
I snorted and leaned into him, letting his arm settle heavy around my shoulders. He smelled like cologne and whiskey, and I tried to let the familiarity of him anchor me.
“There isn’t a single angelic thing about any of you.” I looked back and forth between him and Colt. “I don’t know how Mrs. Calloway survived raising you.”
They both laughed, and McCoy bent his head toward mine, his breath warm against my ear. “You look hot tonight, Mags. Are you trying to give my boy a heart attack?”
I widened my eyes at him, feigning confusion. “Who?” I asked, adjusting the hem where it kissed my thighs. The dress suddenly felt shorter than it did when I’d chosen it an hour ago, picturing Hunter’s reaction.
McCoy’s grin was slow and wicked as he pulled me in until the heat of his body bled through my skin. His voice dropped low, just for me. “You damn well know what you’re doing, Mags, and I have to admit, it’s entertaining to watch.”
I laughed and looked up at McCoy’s handsome face.
He was all sharp angles softened by his easy smile, and for a moment, I let myself imagine how simple everything would be if my pulse quickened for him instead of Hunter.
His arm felt safe around me, comfortable.
It was everything that Hunter’s touch wasn’t.
McCoy and I had a friendship that was reliable, and I knew the moment he walked into a room, he’d warm it like afternoon sunlight. But even with his steady warmth beside me, something in me still ached for the storm I knew would leave me drenched and shivering.
I could feel Hunter’s eyes on me even with McCoy tight to my side.
It was like he had a hook in the center of my chest, one that no one else could see, and the more I tried to ignore it, the deeper it burrowed.
My legs moved restlessly under the table, knees bouncing as I tried to focus on the way Blaire’s laughter lit up the entire damn bar.
McCoy nudged my thigh beneath the table just as a shot of tequila appeared in front of me, as golden and dangerous as the man who’d brought it. Hunter slid into the booth beside me, his thigh pressed against mine, trapping me between the two men, and suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.
The heat of him burned through the thin fabric of my dress, and I lifted the shot without thinking, throwing the burning liquid back before biting the lime between my teeth.
The taste hit hard, burning all the way down and leaving my lips tingling.
When I turned, Hunter was watching me through half-lidded eyes, his gaze fixed on my mouth as I slowly dragged my tongue across my bottom lip.
His jaw clenched, and the heat that crawled up my neck spread lower, settling between my thighs when his knee pressed against mine under the table.
I licked the last trace of tequila from my lips, and the taste alone made me feel braver than I was. “Thank you.” I nodded toward the empty shot glass.
“My pleasure.” His eyes darkened as his gaze slid to McCoy’s arm draped across my shoulders, jaw tightening before returning to meet mine with unmistakable possession.
He brought his beer to his lips, never breaking eye contact, and he drank slow, like he had all night to watch me unravel. The way his thigh pressed against mine beneath the table felt dangerous, and I couldn’t decide if it was a warning or a dare.
I shifted slightly in the booth and McCoy loosened his hold, but Hunter only moved closer. My dress suddenly felt like a reckless mistake, the hem tugging high on my thighs where rough denim seared against my skin.
Blaire leaned across the table. “Is Sutton still coming tonight?”
I tore my eyes away from Hunter and glanced at my phone. “She should be here soon.”
“And is she still bringing her hot brother?” Blaire’s lips curved into a smile as she took a sip of her drink, and Hunter’s thigh went rigid against mine.
“Well, I don’t know if he’s hot because I’ve never seen him.” I rolled my eyes at her. “But yes, the new sheriff is supposed to be coming with her.”
Blaire’s gaze flickered between Hunter and me, her eyebrows lifting slightly. I slid my foot across the floor and connected with her shin.
“Ow! Jesus!” she hissed, and narrowed her eyes at me.
“Wait. Who’s Sutton?” McCoy tilted his head and looked back and forth between me and Blaire.
“I just hired her at Darlin’ Delights.” I turned to him, grateful for the distraction. “She and her brother just moved here. He’s the one who took over from Sheriff Davis.”
McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. “Is she hot?”
I jabbed my elbow into his ribs. “Don’t even think about it. She’s new to town and genuinely kind.”
McCoy put his hand over his heart as if I’d wounded him. “I’m also genuinely kind.”
“Plus, her brother will arrest your ass if you hurt her, and we know all about the game you and Hunter run around this town,” Blaire chimed in, lifting her glass with a grin. “And we’re trying to set Maggie up with him, so don’t cause trouble.”
My face burned hotter than the tequila I’d drank only moments ago as I looked to the bar. “I need a drink.”
“Well, damn, Mags,” McCoy drawled. “I could have been playing matchmaker if I knew you were ready to be tamed.”
Hunter’s voice dropped to a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the booth.
“There ain’t a man on earth who’s ever going to tame Maggie Dawson.
” He leaned back in the booth, his arm stretching along the back.
His fingers drummed a slow, measured beat behind my head, close enough that I could feel the brush of his knuckles against my shoulder.
It would have been so easy to lean into his touch, but I straightened and the minute I did, his knuckles grazed over my spine, slowly dragging down my back, until my lips parted involuntarily.
I had to press my thighs together under the table to steady myself, and, of course, Hunter noticed.
“There’s Sutton now,” Blaire said as she waved toward the entrance.
Sutton moved through the crowd wearing skintight jeans and a white halter top that caught the bar lights as she waved back at Blaire.
A man trailed a few steps behind her who I assumed was her brother.
He had the same olive skin and dark hair, but where Sutton’s face held warmth, his features were carved from stone.
His mouth was set in a hard line as he followed behind her, and holy hell, he was handsome.
Blaire’s sharp intake of breath cut through the bar noise. “Sweet baby Jesus.”
I heard her talking, but I kept my eyes fixed on the pair as they approached.
“Maggie,” Blaire whispered, but her voice cracked. “Tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.”
“Every glorious inch of it,” I murmured as Sutton and her brother drew closer.
“You do know that I’m sitting right here, right?” Colt grumbled, but Blaire shushed him.
“I think I suddenly have a newfound respect for the law,” I said with a laugh, and Blaire snorted just as they made it to the table.
Hunter’s hand stilled on my back, his fingers pressing into my bare skin and sending a current down my spine. I could feel his body go taut, coiled like he was fighting the urge to pull me into him, and I turned to see him staring at Sutton and her brother.