31. Bailey
Bailey
L ettie in that dress would forever be ingrained in my mind.
She never used to dress up or wear anything other than her usual jeans, boots, and tank top or tee.
Don’t get me wrong, she was goddamn beautiful wearing worn-in boots and dirt-stained jeans.
But in a dress? With her hair all curled and running down her back in waves?
I was surprised I was still breathing right now.
She danced with Brandy in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, the lights dim and the music loud. Her dress bounced as she moved, and while I definitely wanted a peek of what was underneath, no other guy in this bar needed to see that shit.
“You sleeping with my sister, Cooper?” Beckham’s voice filled my ears .
I kept my arm casually slung on the table, my hand wrapped around my beer, and faced him. “If I am?”
He smiled, shaking his head. “I fucking knew it.” He lifted a finger off his beer, pointing it at me as he took a sip. “You better treat her right. If I’m on the road and find out you hurt her, I won’t hesitate to come back and kick your ass.”
I chuckled, thankful he wasn’t pulling the overprotective brother shit on me. Lettie’s brothers had known me my entire life. I was the least of their worries when it came to her.
“You act like your brothers can’t handle me.”
“Oh, I’m sure they can. I just want to be here to watch your ass get beat,” Beck said.
“Ah, you’re just butthurt you lost every fight growin’ up.”
“You know how much muscle it takes to stay on a bucking bronc?”
“Please, enlighten us, Beckham,” Callan said as he came over and reached across the table to grab his beer.
“Beck talkin’ about rodeo again?” Lennon interrupted, making his way over from where he was playing pool with Callan.
Reed sat along the half-wall with his arms crossed. I wasn’t sure if he’d overheard our conversation. If he did, he wasn’t giving any reaction as he watched the dance floor.
“Eat shit, Lennon. At least it’s not sales numbers,” Beck remarked.
Lennon took a seat, taking a long pull from his beer. “Now, that’s a conversation I’d happily take part in.”
“Always was the boring brother,” Callan mumbled.
I scoffed. “You guys talk like you’re not damn near thirty. Hell, Len and Reed already are.”
“Bailey, you’re fucking twenty-seven. Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” Beck grabbed the pool cue from Lennon and got up to rack the balls for another game.
I grabbed Callan’s cue, coming to the opposite side of the pool table. “Speaking of being almost thirty, you thinking about retiring soon?” I asked Beck.
“Not sure. I enjoy the rush and being on tour. I’m not sure what else to do once I do decide to retire.”
“You could work on the ranch. Could always use an extra set of hands,” I offered.
He moved the balls around, arranging them just right. “I could.”
Beckham removed the rack and bent to take his shot.
“You and Parker still talk?” I asked as he shoved the cue forward, missing the cue ball entirely.
He pursed his lips and straightened. “Haven’t heard from her since she left on a cattle drive a couple weeks ago.”
I didn’t press further, getting the feeling it was a sensitive topic.
“That’s it, I’m cutting them off.” Reed pushed off his chair, aiming for Brandy and Lettie.
I set my cue on the felt tabletop and grabbed Reed’s arm before he could get any further. “Let them have their fun. They haven’t been able to do this in years.”
He shrugged me off. “You’re fine with them taking their sixth shot right now?
” He nodded his head in their direction.
I moved my gaze over to where they were propped at the bar.
I’d lost track of how much they’d been drinking, but it was clear Reed had been counting.
I did not feel like carrying them out of here tonight.
“I’ll get Lettie,” I said. He took off in their direction and I followed suit.
“Oh, if it isn’t buzzkill number one,” Brandy slurred as we approached.
“Who’s buzzkill two?” I asked.
“No one. There’s just one. And I’m unfortunately face to face with him right now.”
Reed ignored her jab as he gave the bartender a look to cut them off. The guy nodded in response, filling two glasses with water and setting them on the bar.
Reed and Brandy shot daggers at each other as I faced Lettie, her eyes glistening up at me. “Care to dance, Huckleberry?”
I held my hand out to her. I didn’t think she’d take it, but she didn’t hesitate for even a second, setting her dainty hand in mine.
She followed me out to the dance floor, “It’s Your Love” by Tim McGraw filling the room.
I turned, facing her and placing my hands on her hips.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, giving no indication that the alcohol was affecting her.
“When you call me huckleberry, do you just see me as a giant, blue ball?”
I laughed, pressing my forehead to hers. “No, Lettie. But you are wearing a blue dress.”
She tried to hide her smile as she pinched my shoulder.
“It’s denim,” she whined.
I feigned hurt, drawing her closer to me. I was so lost in her, I didn’t see when Brandy stomped past us, or hear when she told Reed she wouldn’t get in his truck.
All I saw was Lettie, with her blue eyes, in her blue dress.
Blue was my new favorite color.
“I may be a little drunk,” she said, doing her best to hide her slur but doing a bad job at it.
I rubbed the tip of my nose against hers. “I know. Which is why I want you to know I’ve liked you since the day I laid eyes on you when we were little.”
Her eyes met mine, a small gasp passing her lips. “Even after I landed in a bucket of huckleberries?”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. “Even more after that. Blue ass or not, you’re beautiful, Lettie Bronson.” Our hips swayed in time to the music, our bodies touching in places I’d always dreamed of.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
She closed her eyes, laying her head on my chest as we danced in our little bubble. I brought my hand up to stroke her hair.
“I’m so grateful you came back,” I whispered.
I didn’t think she’d heard me over the music, but a few minutes later, she mumbled, “Me too.”