Chapter 20
twenty
Sawyer
If Trouble isn’t going to make a move, then I’ll make one of my own. Sure, it won’t be with the cowboy I want it to be—but the second-hottest guy in this barn will do just fine.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, and I know I shouldn’t want my brother's best friend, shouldn’t be craving him like this—but I am. I need to know without a doubt that he feels the same. That this isn’t just all in my head.
The man I spot is no match for Trouble, doesn’t have that annoyingly perfect jawline, but tonight, he'll do.
I slide in next to him. "Care to dance?"
"Thought you'd never ask," he agrees. Easier than I expected.
Honey and Milo glide past us, wrapped up in their own little world until she spots me. "Did you find your mystery cowboy kisser yet? Maybe he's here…" She throws a glance toward Milo. "I mean, I found mine."
"Still searching," I toss back. Honey's laugh floats away as we find a place to dance.
“Your mystery cowboy?” he asks, falling into step with me. “Can’t promise I’m the one you’re lookin’ for, but name’s Graham—decent cowboy, above-average boyfriend.”
I laugh, way too loud, my hand brushing his arm slowly. And yeah, I hope Trouble’s watching—because that laugh? That touch? They weren’t meant for Graham.
To my surprise, Trouble hasn’t rescued me yet. Instead, Knox slows when he sees me, grin easy—until his eyes land on the man next to me. His smile fades just enough as he asks, “You good, Sawyer?” Like he’s ready to knock this man out if the answer’s anything but yes.
"Doing just great, Knox. Meet Gannan."
“Graham actually,” he corrects with a hesitant wave.
He gives Graham a once-over before settling on me. "Yeah, whatever your name is," he adds. "I'll be right outside, playing bags." He jabs a finger toward his eyes then swivels it toward Graham. "I got eyes everywhere."
"Appreciate the concern," I say, irritated that Knox is not currently helping with this plan of mine.
Graham laughs. “I have a little sister, too. I get it.”
"Can we just dance," I ask, pulling him toward me by the front of his shirt.
We fall into step, just two strangers pretending we’ve done this before and that it’s not awkward at all. The music’s fast, the energy charged, but everything else blurs around me. His hands are at my waist, the spin of the barn lights are overhead, and my pulse is pounding behind my ribs.
Graham’s easy to dance with. He knows what he’s doing, and yeah—he’s cute in that sweet, nice-guy way. But this isn’t about him.
I let myself get lost in the moment anyway—the sway of my hips, the brush of his denim against my dress, the sparks that come with being seen. The dance floor is packed, the air is thick with dust and summer heat. And I know exactly what I’m doing.
Because I can feel Trouble watching me.
Even through the crowd, I know the exact second our eyes meet. His stare pins me in place, dark and on the edge of tearing the walls down. His jaw ticks. His grip around his glass tightens. And my heart kicks just a little harder—because that look?
That look says I’ve got his full attention. And maybe I should feel guilty. But all I feel is powerful in this moment.
He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s already losing this game.
My fingers drift down Graham’s arm like it’s accidental—but it’s not. It’s calculated. Every brush, every move, is a message. And if Trouble’s watching—and God, I know he is—then he’s reading it loud and clear.
He’s posted up across the barn like a storm that’s two seconds from breaking, eyes still burning through me like I just did something unforgivable.
I know it seems evil, but he’s been sneaking around, helping on Daddy’s property like he’s just doing it for Knox. But I’m not an idiot. He may act all rough and unreadable, but I can see through it—and I’ve hit a breaking point. I need to know the truth. I can’t be making this up in my head.
Graham’s hand finds mine and I let him lead. We spin once, twice—the barn lights flicker above—and then I’m pulled in close. It’s intimate. Bold. Way more heat than this innocent dance deserves but I let it happen.
Because I want him to see it.
I arch into the space between us just enough to make it look real, just enough to let Trouble imagine more than he should. I’m dancing, sure—but a part of me knows I’m trying to set the whole damn place on fire.
And when our eyes lock again across the dance floor, his expression shifts—just a flicker—but I feel it. That edge. He’s unraveling. He has to be.
Graham's fingers brush slowly against the brim of his hat, a casual motion that doesn't betray the significance of what he's about to do. The gleam in his eye tells me he knows this move means something. My pulse spikes, every nerve on high alert.
Then, with a smooth flick, he pulls it off—dark, messy hair falling in place as leans in. Real close.
“This’d look better on you,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
It all happens in slow motion. The weight of the hat. The heat of his breath.
And then—just like that—it’s on my head.
I don’t even get a full second to breathe it in before the air shifts behind me.
Trouble steps in like a damn security guard. Massive, brooding, the force of him crowding the space.
He’s towering over us, fiery eyes locked on me—no, on the hat—like it’s a loaded weapon that’s about to go off.
His jaw ticks once, slowly. His hands flex like he’s fighting the urge to introduce Graham’s face to the nearest wall. And when they lock eyes, I start mentally drafting my will.
"I suggest you take that hat off her head. Now."
When Graham hesitates, Trouble plucks the hat off me himself and shoves it into Graham’s chest.
Cold. Sharp.
"No way in fuck is that happening."
There’s something about the way he stands there—shoulders squared, confident like he doesn’t just take up space, he owns every inch of it.
It’s not just possessiveness; it’s his presence.
And maybe I shouldn’t like it, but the way that power rolls off him?
It makes me want him, to feel something I’ve been trying so hard not to feel.
Heat flares in Graham's cheeks as he steps forward. "We were-–" he starts. But Trouble doesn’t move. He doesn’t need to.
“Pay attention,” he says, too calmly. “There’s no we. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay the fuck out of my way.”
I can tell that in his eyes, he knows to back down.
We all do, in this small town where everyone knows who he is.
Trouble is stronger, taller. His reputation walks into a room before he does, and the rest of him follows—the set of his jaw, the dangerous stare, and that damn toothpick between his lips that somehow says don’t try me louder than any words ever could.
So Graham doesn’t say a word. He swallows whatever retort had been thinking of, and I can almost see the calculations running through his mind—the risk.
"Come," Trouble commands as he leads me away from the dance floor.
He doesn't look back, but I can feel his energy.
The noise fades behind us, replaced by darkness.
The air gets cooler, the scent of old leather and old, lost items is lingering in the small coat room.
And I know it—I've hit the nerve I was hoping for. This is exactly what I wanted. Right?
He steps closer, eyes narrowing, jaw tight. “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you for your brother. What do I look like letting some man think he can claim you… and take you back to the ranch? Not happening.”
I tilt my head, smirking. “Relax, I wasn’t about to let him take me home. My daddy always said the only thing you bring back from a bar is a headache and a problem you didn’t ask for.”
Troubles gaze locks onto mine. "What were you tryin’ to do out there?"
I suck in a breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I continue to stare him down.
"I’ll tell you when you tell me the truth," I demand, losing all sense of the calm I'm struggling to maintain. "I know what you did for my daddy. I wanna know why."
The distance between us is shrinking. Each inhale brings me closer to his incredible scent. Each exhale could brush his lips if he moved just an inch. There's something terrifying and exhilarating about this balance, knowing one move could send us tumbling into chaos.
Trouble closes the distance between us. His breath brushes my ear as he growls, “You know why.”
I don’t flinch. Instead, I challenge him. “Then say it.”
My heart pounds like a drum in my chest—loud, relentless, begging him to give in, to drop the walls between us. This is almost unbearable, this razor-thin line between wanting and holding back.
His eyes lock on mine. They’re dark, molten, burning with something fierce, threatening to pull me under, to drown me in all the things I’m terrified to admit I want. Everything else falls away—the world outside, the noise, the rules. Here, in the dark, it’s just us. Nothing to hide behind.
"It fucked me up to see you upset,” he admits.
“Why? Why did you care?”
“Fuck. You know why. I want you, Sawyer. And before you get any ideas. Not in a good way. In a really bad way, a really fucking sinful way that I shouldn’t. But I can't have you. And it’s tearing me apart because... I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. It’s taking everything in me to be good."
My heart stutters. The man before me, my older brother’s best friend, this powerful man wants me with an intensity that's nearly wrecking me. He’s not the smart-mouthed, cocky man he usually is. He’s different right now.
"Was that you?" I breathe out. "During the blind kiss auction... Did you kiss me?"
His eyes smolder as he towers over me. His arm lifts, and his hand curls around a metal bar above me. His jaw is a line of tension, every muscle tight, ready to snap. And then, his voice breaks as he changes the subject completely.
"I wanna talk about that hat and what you did. You had to go there?"