Chapter 5
five
Trouble
"The usual tonight, cowboys?" Honey asks as the neon sign overhead buzzes like it’s on its last leg.
I shoot her a grin, toothpick rolling between my lips. "You know it, sugar."
“Put it on Rogue’s tab tonight,” Danger chimes in, grabbing his Jack and Coke. “Boy had the shortest ride. Again.”
Rogue tips his hat back, unimpressed. “Fine. But that means y’all are drinkin’ tap water and prayin’ it’s cold.”
I chuckle and flick the brim of his hat. “C’mon, what fun would that be?"
“Hell,” Rogue mutters. “Hate this tradition.”
Danger turns to me, blocking me from the group. "Spill it, Trouble."
I tip the glass, letting the whiskey kiss my lips before I confess. "I'm tellin’ you, the beauty queen asked me to meet her, but when I walked into trailer number three like she said, she wasn't there."
"Maybe she saw you ride," he says with a sly twist to his mouth. "Saw everything she needed to know and didn’t wanna see your ass anymore."
I lean back and smirk. "That wasn't it. Someone else was there. Had more fire than I tend to mess with, but damn if it didn’t look good on her.
" And now my mind is drifting to her ass.
Tight, perfect, fit too fucking well in my palms. Yeah, I haven't been able to think straight since.
"She was even more gorgeous than the beauty queen. "
"Let me guess," Danger drawls, his voice heavy with amusement, "she kicked you out?"
I hold back a smile. "More or less.”
"Thought so," he snickers, and all I can do is finish off the rest of my drink.
"On that note," I say, swiping my empty glass off the table, "I'm gonna go put another drink on Rogue's tab."
Honey slides me a fresh glass of whiskey, nods, and moves on.
But fate’s a mean son of a bitch.
I turn, take one step, and my boot catches on something solid. Before I can blink, it’s a slow-motion wreck. The glass slips from my hand. Whiskey flies through the air.
And it lands—every damn drop—on a light pink dress.
Her light pink dress.
Shit.
I process what I’ve just done. And who I’ve just done it to. It’s her. Butter knife girl.
She gasps, jerks back, and then her eyes—stormy blue and aimed to kill—lock onto mine.
“You.”
“Would you believe me if I said that was an accident?”
“I’m starting to think you’ve got me on your hit list. Was that your pet deer I hit earlier or something?”
“You… hit a deer?”
She waves me off like I’m the crazy one.
"First, you grope me. Now, you ruin my outfit.” She says, gesturing to the mess on her dress. What’s next, a swift punch to the face?”
"Wha—no," I stammer, caught off guard. "This was an accident, that was an accident—"
But she's not having it. Her voice amplifies, soaring above the music and conversations. "Watch out for this one, ladies," she declares with a pointed finger that might as well be a six-shooter aimed straight at me. "He'll feel you up without your consent and throw a drink on you to seal the deal."
And just like that, every woman in a ten-foot radius is looking at me like I’ve got issues. Peggy, our town's local banker in particular, sends me a look that's part curious, part pity. She's always had a soft spot for the Stetson charm, but right now she ain’t on my side.
"Aw, Peggy," I drawl, giving her a wink. "She's just havin' a little fit. Don't you worry about her."
I lean in, trying to convince this woman who’s off her rocker to hush. "That is not how it happened," I say, low enough for only her to hear.
"Save it," she hisses, voice laced with venom. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom and see if I can salvage this mess. Stay away from me, Trouble."
She storms off, and is gone before I can apologize.
“Damn.” I flash a wolfish grin at the bartenders. "Another round."
I know she’s pissed. And for the life of me, I can't figure out why I keep fumbling the reins any time I run into her. She's a tornado all right, and I reckon I didn't mean to fire her up like that. But the way she just said trouble? Sexiest damn thing I’ve heard in a while. Makes me wonder what it’d be like to bend that fierce spirit of hers, to hear her when she ain’t so tough.
Maybe even when she’s moaning. My dick twitches at the thought.
"Hey," Knox says, slinging an arm over my shoulder.
“Where’d you disappear to?” I ask, raising a brow as I lean against the bar beside him.
Knox claps me on the shoulder. “My sister’s in town.”
I blink. “Wait—the sister? Miss Chicago who never visits?”
He chuckles. “That’s the one. Asked her to come. Got some family stuff goin’ on.”
“Must be serious,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Thought you said it’d take a funeral to get her back here.”
Knox shrugs, but there’s somethin’ tight in his jaw. “Nah, I think maybe she needed a change of scenery.”
“Well if you need anything—whatever it is—you say the word. You’re family.”
His eyes flick over to me, softer now. “Appreciate it. Nothin’ we can’t handle.”
“Mhm,” I say, not pushin’, but not buyin’ it all the way either.
Then his gaze sharpens and he lifts his chin toward the crowd. “There she is.”
I don’t turn right away. Don’t have to. Already got a picture in my head—some city girl, too stuck up for country life, probably checks her reflection in every window and treats this town like a gas station stop between better things.
But then Knox nudges my arm, urging me to look.
And I turn.
And fuck me.
It’s her.
The blonde in the light pink dress. The one who pulled a butter knife on me. The one I spilled whiskey on. The one I can’t seem to stop pissin’ off—or thinkin’ about.
And now?
She’s not just her.
She’s his sister. My best friend's sister.
"Trouble, meet—" Knox's introduction dissolves as she interrupts.
“Why are you with him?” she hisses, eyes locked on me like she’s ready to start round three.
I blink—once, twice—then glance at Knox, confusion twisting in my gut. “Wait. That’s your sister?”
Knox’s brows shoot up. “You two know each other?”
“Oh, we’ve met,” she says, arms folding across that sad, soaked dress. “He felt me up and then threw a drink on me.”
My jaw drops. “Whoa, now, that is a wild retellin’.”
She shoots me a glare. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I lift both hands like I’m trying not to spook a wild animal. “Okay—technically, yes, both those things happened. But not like that. She’s twistin’ it all up.”
Knox just stares at me, blinking like he’s buffering. “You felt her up?”
I drag a hand down my face. “Okay, hold on—it was an accident.” One I should regret more than I do, but still an accident. “It was the wrong… ass, alright? It wasn’t supposed to be her. I swear, Knox, I never would’ve—”
Knox takes a full step back, rubbing the back of his neck like he wants to scrub the image from his brain. “Yeah, yeah, let’s stop talkin’ about my sister’s ass now.”
“Easy for you to say,” She snaps, hand planted on her hip. “You’re not the one who got groped like a damn stress ball.”
Her blue eyes flash with that familiar defiance, the same spark that could start wildfires or keep the wolves at bay. And suddenly, I'm acutely aware of every inch of the space she occupies, every hitch in her breath, every subtle shift of her weight on those heels she wears so well.
"Knox, you know me—I'd never just do that without permission. I thought she was the beauty queen, the one who told me to meet her in trailer three."
My brothers, who are near us now, exchange glances, each one a silent bet on how this showdown will end. But Knox, damn him, just stands there calmly, and I’m not sure what he’s thinking.
"Sawyer, what were you doing in that trailer?" he asks, only after the silence drags on.
Sawyer. Pretty name. Pretty face. Pain in the ass. Typical.
"I was cleaning my heels. Got stuck in the mud..." She points at the heels, now spotless, then turns to me. Her nose wrinkles as she says, "and a beauty queen? Cute."
"Alright, alright," Knox interjects, trying to defuse the bomb that is Sawyer. “Trouble, you touch her again and I will have to put my hands on you.” Then he tilts his head. "Sawyer, he didn't mean it, alright? Trouble here trained me at bull riding—he's my best friend, and he’s a good guy."
"Good guy," Rogue repeats, snickering, while my other brothers join in like Knox just told the joke of the century.
Sawyer takes a slow step forward, chin up, eyes blazing as she sizes me up like I’m a clearance rack she’s not impressed by. “Well if he’s such a saint, then maybe keep him on a leash while I’m in town.”
She turns like she’s done with me, but tosses one last remark over her shoulder. “I’d hate to have to humble a cowboy this early in the week.”
My brothers damn near fall out of their chairs, hootin’ and hollerin’ like they lost their damn mind. They’re lovin’ every second of this. Rogue's pounding on the table, and Charming's wheezin’ so hard you'd think he inhaled a whole bale of hay.
There’s something dangerously seductive about the way she stands her ground, letting me know in her own way that she’s not one to mess with.
Makes me think there’s a softer side she doesn’t want anyone to see…
and damn some fucked up part of me wants to be the one to drag that outta her.
She strides over to Honey, who squeals once she sees her.
I swipe my hat off, running a hand through my hair as I watch her in her element.
For the first time in a long stretch, I feel somethin’ tear right through my chest. I don’t feel annoyed or frustrated, like I should be at some woman tryna put me in my place.
The feelings are more like the aftermath of a tornado, when you stand alone, left in a mess and wonder how the hell you rebuild from here.
My gaze lingers on her back, following the curve of her spine and perfect ass, down to her heels—heels she'd been cleaning when fate decided to play its cruel joke on me. And I know this isn't over, although it should be, because out of all the damn people in the world, she’s Knox’s sister. His baby sister.
Knox leans in beside me, glancing over his shoulder like he’s about to drop a bombshell. "Once she finds out where she's stayin’," he murmurs, "she's gonna lose her shit."
"Where’s she stayin’?"
He smirks, dragging it out. "She told me she booked a guest house here in town…" He pauses just long enough for it to hit me. His grin widens. "You know what that means."