17. Ryker
Chapter seventeen
Ryker
I can’t take my eyes off her. Her body moves like it was made to dance, and I find myself wondering what else I don’t know about Finley Buckley.
From the moment we walked into this western bar, appropriately named OK Saloon, Joey’s had her wrapped in his arms, twirling her around the dance floor to various country western songs. Hawk has even danced a couple with her while Joey took a break to chat with me or dance with another woman. He’s very popular, which doesn’t surprise me.
I, too, have been asked multiple times by various women if I wanted to dance or “Get outta here,” but I’m happily unhappy where I am: Watching the woman I want dance with men who aren’t me and nursing a watered-down whiskey.
Could I be out there dancing? Yes. But would Finley even want to dance with me? Doubtful. Besides, with everything that’s gone down—and now that we’re “just friends”—it’d feel weird.
“You look like someone kicked your puppy,” Joey says as he comes back from the floor, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Thanks,” I snipe back, looking over his shoulder to see Finley safely in the arms of Hawk. My shoulders relax a bit at the sight, even though I stupidly find myself jealous of my best friend, who’s not even interested in her.
“Can I have that?” Joey points to my drink, but before I can say anything, he takes it from my hand and downs it .
“I was going to say no.”
He smacks his lips and grins, putting the empty glass on the bar top. “You were taking too long to drink it, anyway. I did you a favor.”
I swallow down my jerk reaction to bicker with him and look back out at the floor. Hawk dips Finley, making her giggle. Okay, maybe I am very jealous of my best friend. That should be me out there…
Joey nudges my shoulder. “Go ask her to dance.”
I shake my head and remove my gaze from the two of them. “I don’t dance.”
“That’s a bunch of bull crap if I ever heard it. I saw you dance and woo women the night after our last Channel 5 chase, remember? You’ve got pretty good rhythm for an old white guy, T-Daddy.”
I cast Joey a hard stare. “Are you trying to annoy me, Joseph?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs cheekily. “If I was really trying, though, I would’ve worn another one of my T-shirts instead of this plain ol’ boring one.” I growl at him, and he cackles. “You’re way too easy to rile up this trip, Ry-Ry.”
“Ry-Ry?”
Joey shrugs, waving down the bartender for a beer. “Wanted to try it out, see how it feels on the tongue. But you know what?” He leans down so his lips are at my ear. “I like Daddy better.”
“Joseph—”
“Oh, lighten up, for fuck’s sake.” He hands me a beer I didn’t ask for before taking one for himself. “You’re at a honky-tonk in Oklahoma drinking a beer after a day of doing what you love, and the woman you like is here. Doesn’t get much better than that.”
My heart rate speeds up. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Joey sips his beer then grins at me like a fool. “Puh-leaseeee, I’m not an idiot. I bet Hawk that, by the end of tonight, you and Finley would kiss. ”
My jaw clenches, and the hand I have holding my beer becomes stiff. Everything in me begins to scream, Divert! Divert!
“You’ll lose money, then. Should’ve bet on yourself.”
Joey lets a loud laugh rip out of his chest, and he smacks his knee. “Me and Fin? Yeah, right. She shut me down back in college, and we’ve been flirty friends ever since. She’s hot but in a no-chase zone.”
Relief zips through me, but I’m still confused. “You were in the bathroom with her earlier.”
He rolls his eyes. “She may be upset at me for saying this, but I’m going to take the chance she’ll forgive me.”
“Forgive you for what?”
He taps a fingernail on the side of his beer bottle. “We weren’t canoodling in the bathroom. I was talking to her about her little man problem—or should I say, a big man problem.” Joey lifts his eyebrows and sips his beer, waiting for me to respond.
I think my mouth opens to say something, but I’m speechless—not only from the clear innuendo but because I didn’t think Finley would tell him about us, either.
“Oh, stop looking so shocked, Professor. I smelled you on her a mile away. Finley didn’t have to tell me shit.”
My forehead pinches in confusion. “Smelled me?”
Joey chuckles. “You’ve been acting like a jealous boyfriend all day. Hawk saw it, I saw it, I don’t know if Ezra did but probably. He’s too involved in his work to care, I think. Not that any of us care what you do with your dick, but you’ve been a dick because of said dick so…here we are.”
“I—” I attempt words but I’m still speechless. “I’m sorry.”
He waves me off. “You can apologize to me later. Let’s talk about you being a dick to Finley instead.”
I pause, unsure of what to say next. Finally, I get my vocal cords to work. “You’re really not pursuing her?”
“That’s what you want to say?”
“I thought— ”
He tips the brim of his cowboy hat, his voice lower as he asks, “You know I’m bi, right?”
I blink at him. “No, why would I?”
“Wow, you are so blind. Blinder than I thought. I thought you would’ve realized or someone would’ve told you by now. I also tend to prefer men.” The corner of his mouth turns up. “Men of the tall, dark, and smart variety.”
My eyes widen, and Joey cackles like a loon. “Not you, T-Daddy!”
Heads swivel toward us at Joey’s nickname, which he said very loudly. We’re in a small town practically in the middle of nowhere, where men usually don’t go around calling other men “daddy” like it’s their actual name—at least, not in public. Nor do they talk about their sexuality.
“Joey,” I warn, but he waves me off, clearly not caring. He does lower his voice again, though.
“Who or what I like doesn’t matter right now, but what does matter is that you like Finley, and you’re fucking it up.”
“There’s nothing to fuck up.” And that’s the truth. Finley and I agreed to be friends .
“You know, you wouldn’t be the first person to have a relationship with someone they quote-unquote ‘shouldn’t,’” he says near my ear. “I know what it’s like to feel like you have to hide, and that’s a shitty feeling. The good news is that you and Finley don’t have to. She’s an adult, and so are you. The professor stuff is bullshit. You can go to HR, quit your job, or take a year off. And I’m sure there are even more options that I’m not thinking of right now.” He pulls back from my ear and grins at me.
I grit my teeth. “You know everything that happened, then?”
“Like I said, I figured out most of it on my own since you practically pissed on her—”
“I did not—”
“You did, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is what you’re going to do now to fix things with Finley. ”
I run my hand over my beard. Maybe I should feel awkward that both Hawk and Joey—and maybe even Ezra—know about Finley and I, but I have to admit it feels as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders now that the secret has been spoken.
“What are you going to do?” Joey pushes.
“I don’t think it’s as simple as you say. I don’t want shit to go south for her at school and around town when people start gossiping.”
Joey takes another sip of his beer. “So don’t let it,” he says, as if that’s the easiest thing in the world to do—and fuck, maybe it is.
“You’re very optimistic.”
“It’s one of my many amazing traits,” he gloats. “But look, I may not know everything that’s gone down between you and our girl, but it must be something good if you risked anything in the first place. That’s my two cents.”
He puts his beer down on the counter and smacks me on the shoulder hard enough that I shift on my stool. “I’m going to hit the head. But I suggest you look out on that dance floor and then ask yourself, ‘Tornado Daddy, do you like watching the woman you’re head over heels for being touched by another man?’ then start making your decisions.”
He smacks me again then walks off toward the bathroom, leaving me to look out at the floor. The words he said finally register when my eyes land on Finley. She’s no longer dancing with Hawk; he’s nowhere in sight. In his place is a dark-haired man in a cowboy hat and jeans. She’s smiling politely at him, and my body lights up with a jealous rage that feels like antifreeze rushing through my veins.
I’m off my chair and making my way to the dance floor before I can take my next breath, and soon, my hand is grabbing the back of the man’s T-shirt and pulling him from Finley.
“Hey! We were dancin’,” he grouses.
“I’m cutting in.”
“I was— ”
I turn to the green-eyed man and narrow my eyes at him. “Your dance is finished.” He grumbles something that I don’t care to hear, then I turn to face a very confused and not-at-all-amused Finley.
“Really?” she questions, a hand planted on one of her rounded hips.
“Finley, I—”
She turns and starts to walk off the floor, but I gently grab her hand, tugging her into me. Our chests bump, the position reminding me of the one we stood in hours before in the diner bathroom.
“What are you doing, Ryker?”
My hand grips hers, and I look into her eyes, eyes that are simmering with annoyance and confusion, hard emotions that I put there again because apparently, around her, I become a possessive asshole who says and does dick-ish things.
“Dance with me?” The fast-paced song that was playing changes to a slow one as the question slips from my lips.
Finley looks at all the people moving around us then back at me. “Why?”
My chest tightens, and blood whooshes in my ears. I could attempt a lie and say I simply wanted to dance, but that’s not the truth. Joey’s words ring in my ears alongside Hawk’s. I have been a complete and utter dick, and honestly, is a relationship with Finley really that complicated? In a lot of ways, it is, but in some ways, maybe more important ways, it’s not at all.
“Because I want to dance with you,” I finally say. “I’ve been wanting to dance with you all night.”
“And you waited until a stranger asked me to dance to cut in?”
“Finley, I…fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”
“What? Be nice?”
Okay, I deserved that, too. I squeeze her hand gently, and she stares at it for a moment before looking at me again. I soften my gaze, using my eyes to convey my apology then backing it up with words.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I keep fucking things up, and I know you don’t owe me anything. But please, one dance.”
A couple two-stepping across the floor bumps into us and mumbles something like “dance or get off the floor.”
Finley flushes with embarrassment and whispers an apology before placing her hand on my shoulder, her other hand still in mine as our bodies press closer together. My entire being lights up at her touch, and every negative thought I’ve had expels from my mind.
“Is that a yes?” I ask, unable to suppress my hope.
“One dance,” she says. “Only one.”