Chapter 3
Wyatt
“Again!” Bryn cries out breathlessly, her petite body nearly slamming into me after the twirl I just put her through. “One more.”
Laughing, I throw my head back so hard my hat nearly flies off. “You said that two songs ago.”
That isn’t a complaint. Far from it. I’ve lost track of the number of songs we’ve danced to since we first got on the floor, and each time I think she might be done, she asks for more.
Whoever blessed me with running into this woman tonight, I could kiss the ground they walk on.
Bryn has been everything I didn’t know I needed.
“I know, I know!” she giggles, the sound enchanting, making me want to continue to draw it from her.
When the boys told me they were taking me out to celebrate, I thought I’d have a few beers, maybe find a dancing partner or two, then call it a night.
Then she appeared. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I wanted more than one dance.
The dance we did as we tried to pass each other was fun, but the real clincher was when she bit her bottom lip and held back the smile I knew wanted to sparkle in all its glory that she wouldn’t allow.
I had to see it. Without anything holding it back.
It’s dazzling. She’s been flashing it in my direction ever since she got the hang of spinning.
While there are still moments when my toes are crushed beneath her boots—thank god for the firm leather of cowboy boots—she hasn’t been as embarrassed as that first time.
In fact, she laughs when she does it now.
Less chagrined, more flirtatious with each toe stomp.
“I don’t remember the last time I had this much fun,” she says over the music, closing the space slightly between us so she can be heard. “I don’t want to stop.”
My eyes narrow. Not enough that I think she’ll notice, but I would. What does this girl do on the daily that she doesn’t recall this much fun? Life should be full of fun.
“It’s a good thing your friends are protective then, if you don’t have this much fun all the time,” I tease.
Bryn shakes her head. “I don’t come out often. It’s Hailey’s birthday, though.”
Through my smile, my eyes narrow again. She’s young. Not any older than my twenty-six, that’s for sure. “Why not?”
“Life!” she says, like it explains everything.
Tucking that away for the future, I step back, giving a gentle nudge to her shoulder blade to signal I’m about to spin her.
A second later, the skirt of her cream-colored dress flares as she twirls around, though I keep it slow enough to not give the rest of the club a view of what’s beneath.
But it does give me an excellent look at more of her legs.
Three dates to take someone to bed doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the views.
And in that dress? The views are everything. A brown belt cinches at her waist, showing off the curve of her hips. The material is crinkled all over, and however that works, it makes her breasts look delectable. Pushed up, but not overly exposed.
She looks every bit of the country she claims to be, and it has my full attention.
As I step back into her, she wildly shakes her head back and forth, her chin-length, wavy hair fluttering around her head like her dress flaring around her legs, full to the brim of life, delight, and pleasure. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone so beautiful.
“Okay, I think I need a drink,” she says, sounding out of breath.
Her hand snakes around my neck, her body closing the distance between us.
Big, round eyes that don’t seem green but aren’t quite brown stare up at me from beneath dark, thick lashes, and my dick twitches at the sight.
Three dates, but fuck if the look on her face doesn’t have the image of her on her knees before me coming to mind.
Yeah, a drink sounds like a really good idea right now. I’m not sure if I need a single, double, or a huge glass of ice water.
My hand slides down from the top of her back, winding around to press into her lower back, holding her close to me.
Our pace slows as we move around the floor, other couples easily passing us.
As much as we could both use a drink, a part of me doesn’t want this to end, and the breath that hitches in Bryn’s chest tells me she doesn't want that either.
“Will you dance with me again after we have a drink?” she asks, softer than any other conversation we’ve had tonight, her voice barely carrying over the music.
Eager.
I like it.
Tilting my head down, I brush my lips against her soft cheek, inhaling a scent that makes me think of long summer afternoons lying in a meadow of flowers while my horse Rosie grazes in the grass back home in Montana.
I come to the spot right next to Bryn’s ear. She shivers as I say, “Wouldn’t dream of anything else.”
Stepping back without warning, I spin her one last time, winning me a squeak of surprise.
She’s off balance, but I’ve got her, catching her before she can trip over her feet or someone else’s.
Her laughter rings in my ears when I turn her once again, but stop her mid-spin to direct her off the dance floor at the same spot we entered earlier.
Right near her table of friends. Two friends now, by the looks of it.
The blonde and brunette. Glancing around, I don’t see the redhead or the black-haired woman.
“Let’s get a drink and then maybe you should check in with your friends,” I tell her, noticing that the two at the table both track us despite their heads tucked in intense conversation. “I might wander over and see if my friends are five sheets to the wind.”
Truthfully, I need to take a piss. But checking on Tyson and the guys wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Bryn gives me a nod, head tilted in my direction so she can peer up at me.
She’s short. Maybe five feet to my six-one.
Petite. My arm wraps better around her shoulders than it does her waist, but I keep it lower, a hand at the small of her back, directing her, but using my body to make space between people until we reach the bar.
Her order is the same as the last time, and I double it, watching as she reaches for the water first. She guzzles half of it in one breath, and though I don’t hear it, her lips make a satisfied ‘ahhh’ as she puts the glass back down, sagging a little like she’s just had relief she waited her entire life for.
She’s mesmerizing. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her since we first ran into each other.
It was strange, though. The way she went into the restroom with one demeanor and came out with another. It was nothing she said, but the microexpressions were there. The way her chest heaved like she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. The wide eyes, but slight pull to her eyebrows.
She masked it as quickly as she could. I watched her put it in place. But as someone fascinated by microexpressions and having studied them—albeit via podcasts and online research—I saw it.
“You earned all that water,” I tell her with a chuckle.
She snorts, the sound adorable, but flushes immediately after. “And the Jack and Coke.”
“Definitely that too.”
“Come meet my friends,” Bryn nods towards the table.
She leads me over to where the two women sit, both with clear-colored cocktails in front of them, half drunk. Condensation runs down their glasses, telling me they’ve been nursing them for a while.
The brunette, the one that was with Bryn when they went to the restroom, straightens when she realizes we’re coming to the table. Loudly—drunkenly—she announces, “I told you he was cute!”
“You have no idea how proud she and Quinn are,” the blonde says with a laugh, sounding less inebriated.
My grin couldn’t be any bigger as I look down at Bryn, color staining her cheeks crimson. Even in the dark light of the club, it’s plain as day. “They’re ratting you out.”
“They aren’t,” she turns her face up to me, defiance flashing in her eyes. It’s sexy as hell and my dick lights up in my pants, hoping for more. “They said you were cute. I didn’t.”
With my drink in hand, I touch my hand to my chest. “You wound me.”
“Your dancing makes up for anything you lack in the looks department.”
Looking at the two women sitting at the table, I ask, “Does she always send men away with their tail tucked between their legs?”
The brunette bursts into giggles, and the blonde shakes her head, sucking her lips into her mouth to keep from laughing.
“Excuse them. They’re like twelve years old when they’ve had alcohol, and are probably picturing—”
“I only picture Liam’s dick now, thank you,” the brunette cuts in, then dissolves into more giggles. “But I am picturing it tucked, yes.”
“Not to be impolite, but you ladies do understand male anatomy, yeah? A tail is behind you, and well, that appendage belongs in front.”
They both collapse into a fit of laughter, and it’s contagious because I find myself joining in. Ridiculous conversations are some of my favorites. My brothers would be howling if they were here.
“I think you may have saved me from being very drunk,” Bryn comments, chuckling beside me. “This is Savanna and Jordan.” She gestures to the blonde and brunette, respectively. “Guys, this is Wyatt.”
They both stop laughing long enough to shake my hand.
“Nice to meet both of you.”
“Likewise, cowboy.” Jordan glances from me to Bryn. “How dizzy are you after all that spinning?”
Pride swells in my chest when Bryn braves a side look up at me, her eyes catching mine beneath her thick lashes, and she giggles.
Fucking giggles. Again. It’s different from the giggles the other girls were in.
This has a sweet, flirtatious anticipation in it, and every time I coax it out of her, it brings something alive within my chest.
“I got used to it.”
“You had to with how long you were out there,” Savanna says, grinning at her friend.
“In my defense, she told me to keep going until she wasn’t stepping on my feet anymore,” I tell them. “We should still be out there if she wanted to hold true to that.”