Chapter 2 #2
The man has not stopped smiling, making me wonder if his cheek muscles are as strong as the rest of him looks. “I do. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I’d never had a one-night stand, but they’ve never done much for me—”
“Except get you off?”
His mouth opens, closes, opens again, and then Wyatt laughs, making my stomach curl deliciously. “Well, sure. I’m only a man, and the female body is something spectacular, but it’s not my preference. I like connection. Presuming the woman I’m with is also ready.”
My head tilts in contemplation as the bartender finishes with our Jack and Cokes, Wyatt paying for them with a couple of crisp bills. It could totally be a line—I’ve heard them all the past four years at 10-42—but something tells me that this man and his earnest, bright eyes are telling the truth.
He hands me one of the drinks and holds up the second glass for me to clink against. “To dancing, whiskey, and a three-date rule.”
Laughter bubbles out of me, and I cheers him before taking a sip.
It’s far less offensive than the shots that burned all the way down, and I savor the burst of flavor on my taste buds.
The notes of caramel and vanilla have me breathing out a contented sigh, my eyes closing for the briefest of moments while I simply enjoy.
The negative thoughts and swirling panic of five minutes ago are gone, I realize, and with a start, I open my eyes. Wyatt is watching me, wearing a look of intense fascination.
“You good?” he asks.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I look down between us and take another pull from my drink. Deeper this time. Quicker. Not giving myself a second to enjoy the way it tastes. Why would he ask me that? Did he notice the panic? How could he? He knows nothing about me.
“You look like you were really enjoying that first sip,” he follows up, and my eyes flash back to his.
Of course. It wasn’t the panic. It was my satisfaction over the drink.
Get it together, Bryn. Relax.
Nodding, I take one last sip before setting the glass on the counter and exchanging it for the water.
“Thirsty. We’ve been dancing for a while,” I explain, waving towards the table where my friends are sitting.
Without much thought, I glance in their direction and do a double take when I see all four of them sitting there, eyes glued on me and the man beside me.
Turning towards the bar, I rub my forehead. “Oh god.”
Wyatt twists to look at the table before turning to face the same direction as me, our arms bumping against each other. The heat from his body radiates into me, and despite being hot from the all the bodies in the club, I soak in the warmth of his nearness.
“They’re just looking out for you.”
I laugh. “No, they’re on a mission.”
“A mission?”
“To find me a cowboy.”
A laugh rumbles in his chest so deeply I feel the vibrations through his arm. “They didn’t need to. I found you first.”
Craning my neck to peer up at him, I bite down on my lip, running my fingers along the water glass in my hand, giving a slow nod. He did find me first, in some weird twist of fate that makes me wonder if Quinn is psychic.
Absurd. I am not going to marry this man.
Wyatt leans in, breath caressing my ear. “You’ve got shit kickers on. You a cowgirl?”
I glance down at my cowboy boots. The distressed brown leather hits me mid-calf. Swirls of a lighter stitch cover the squared toe and the upper column of the boot. They’re scuffed and worn out, but they’re my favorite pair.
“I grew up in the country,” I reply with a smile. “I know how to ride.”
Our eyes meet as the words leave my mouth, and I realize how they sound too late. Beneath his hat, his eyes crinkle, a knowing grin sliding across his full, kissable lips.
The image of me straddling him flashes in my mind, and I can feel my cheeks staining red.
Shit. I can’t believe that came out of my mouth.
“Are we both thinking the same thing?” He laughs, but to his credit, his eyes stay locked on mine.
His innocent call out of my blunder makes me snort with a laugh. Dropping my hand to the bar, my fingers smooth along a carved-out ridge in the epoxy-coated wood and I nod. “Probably.”
“Well, I’ll be a gentleman and not say it out loud,” he says, but his knowing grin remains, and I know he’s got the same mental image as me.
The scene I painted for myself of him tossing me on my bed transforms into me riding him on it. The way his trim hips would fit beneath my spread legs.
Clearing my throat, I make a point to look back down at our feet. “You’re also wearing cowboy boots. And they aren’t polished like the fake cowboys around here—does that make you a real one?”
There’s a twinkle dancing in his green eyes when I look back up. They’re the light within the darkness of the bar, bright and glowing, making me want to see them in the daylight to find out the exact shade. “Grew up on a ranch in Montana and also know how to… ride.”
The emphasis he puts on the word “ride” has my stomach jumping into my throat with excitement. This flirty banter is making me feel alive in a way I can’t recall in any recent time.
“I also know how to two-step,” he states, holding out a hand to me. “Care for a dance?”
My eyes dart over my shoulder to the dance floor behind us, and I briefly catch my lip between my teeth. “Well, I don’t know how to two-step.”
“That’s okay,” he says, stepping close enough I can feel more of the heat from his very firm-looking body. “I know how to lead.”
Desire fills my belly and moves southward. It’s the promise in his tone that tells me I’d be well taken care of on the dance floor if I accept. I want to accept. God, I want to. But I don’t know if I should. I’m supposed to be here with my friends, not off dancing with a sexy cowboy.
Looking in the direction of the table again, I find all four of them still staring at me, shit eating grins on each of their faces.
“Go!” Savanna encourages, shooing us towards the dance floor.
“They seem to think it’s a good idea,” Wyatt says, and I can hear the smile in his voice before I turn to find it trained on me. “I promise I won’t be upset if you step on my toe.”
Putting my hand in his, I nod. “Alright, cowboy. Let’s go.”
A swat to my ass as we pass my friends makes me jump, and I glance back to see Quinn smiling devilishly. “Get it, cowboy!”
Laughing, I roll my eyes. Of course she’d say it to Wyatt and not me. Quinn, the Queen of getting some. And me, the complete opposite of that.