Chapter 21 Easton
EASTON
“Shots. Shots. Shots. Shots,” Collie chants over the loud jukebox, opposite the bar top she stands on.
Yeah, I said that right. Collie’s on top of the bar, dancing her perky little ass off while I’m parked against the nearest wood pillar, grinning ear to ear like a lovesick fool.
I’m not lovesick. She just makes me feel like I’m twenty again.
I am, however, still feeling a bit speechless over the design Collie chose for my hat. The symbolism left me without words from her thoughtfulness. It feels as if we’ve known each other our entire lives. Collie kept my hat true to its timeless look but added an engraving on the side.
A compass with the letter B at the center, and a lightning bolt as the detail beside the direction symbols.
B for Benjamin. My brother. She told me she imagined my brother being my guide. The compass over my life when times get tough, and when life feels good.
I’d be lying if I said the sentiment didn’t make me emotional. No one, especially a stranger, has ever done something so authentically special for me. Collie could have taken the easy route and picked something basic. But she went above and beyond, considering what would mean more.
It took me over an hour to design hers, and I’m still wavering at her response. I’ve learned it’s not often Collie doesn’t have something sarcastic to say. But the first sight of her new hat had her body freezing, and what looked like tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
I’ve run through a list in my head of all the ways I could have fucked it up. Did I choose the wrong color? Is it really that hideous? I’m not a woman, so I don’t know what they like. I’m not offended. More so concerned.
A sadness or something I can’t pinpoint came over her, ending in her hugging me tightly and mumbling a soft thank you.
That was the end of it.
Nothing more. Nothing less. But it’s resting at the top of her head at this moment, looking cute as hell, so I’m choosing to take that as an acceptable sign that she loves it and will inquire further another day.
“Ever seen Coyote Ugly, Ranger?” She bends to her knees, meeting me at eye level across from her with two shot glasses balanced in her hands. One with pickle juice and the other filled to the brim with Jameson.
Technically, we never decided who lost the bet. Both of us responded to the hat outcome much differently than anticipated. But fat chance if she thinks I’m letting her buy our drinks.
“Did you even grow up in our generation if you didn’t?”
“Yeehaw,” Collie hollers, grinning wider and brighter if that’s even possible.
“What a guy. I always wanted to dance on a bar top like the coyote girls. Serve alcohol straight to a customer’s mouth through the dispenser.
Make bets on the next song to play from the jukebox.
Do anything to feel alive. The coyote girls always looked alive and free. ”
“So, that’s where your need to bet on everything came from?” I tease her, arms crossed at my chest to keep from reaching for her.
“Little bit.” She spins on her heels, clapping, slapping her thighs, and twirling her hips without spilling a lick of alcohol in the process. “I’m livin’ the dream.”
Collie fits in here. Her extroverted spirit is loose and even more at ease than usual. She’s beautifully herself.
And I could use another shot. I approach the bar, signaling for the bartender to bring me another round. “Keep ’em comin’,” I mumble loud enough for only him to hear.
“You’re gonna need it,” he tells me, eyes trained on Collie’s legs with heat. Brown and white cowhide boots line her feet, making her look like a natural local to High Noon Hideout.
Those boots wreck me.
I throw back the shot in a single gulp and take my place against the pillar again.
High Noon Hideout is downtown’s most cherished country bar.
The exterior appears old and worn, lacking the same character the interior brings.
Inside, the walls are an urban mix of different shades of brown, and intricate stained glass lines the wall above the bar top, with landscapes of farmlands all across the Wyoming border.
Bull and elk horns are tastefully placed throughout the bar, while horse saddles take the place of the traditional barstool design.
The western details can’t be missed. It’s evident High Noon Hideout has been here for decades, but the upkeep was never slept on. It’s clean, maintained, and a good fucking vibe.
The packed bar is a testament to how well-loved it is.
Not a single table is without occupancy, hence why I’m standing since even the bar is full.
That, and because Collie’s out of her fucking mind if she thinks I’ll leave her up there without a watchful eye.
She wasted no time climbing up the nearest surface and joining the few other women on top of the bar.
But those women have nothing on her, and by the looks of it, I’m not the only man in here thinking the same thing. She holds the attention of all of them. She’s an enigma.
I wonder if Collie notices the struggle I feel right now. I can’t ignore the eyes on her, the hands reaching to grope her. I know she’s a grown woman and can handle herself, but I’m a protector to my fucking core. If Ben were here, he’d claim it’s my hero complex showing up again, but I don’t care.
I won’t sleep until the people I love and care about are safe. Especially in my hands. And right now, the dude front and center at the bar is getting too close for my liking.
“Collie,” I mutter, never losing sight of the creepy fucker’s hands.
As if expecting me, she jerks her head in my direction, body still moving to the beat of the music. “Watermelon Crawl” by Tracy Byrd blasts from the speaker, and if we weren’t one of nearly fifty bodies in this crowded bar, I’d probably join her.
But not today.
“Yes, handsome?” Her eyes twinkle with mischief, petite frame rolling in a fluid motion.
“Play pool with me.” I nod to the pool table across the bar, hoping she catches my drift.
Why would I expect her obedience? Collie does what Collie wants. “But I want to dance.” She smiles, sauntering to the edge of the bar top, and calls me toward her with the pull of a finger.
My face reaches her chest in two steps, meeting her perfect complexion, now glistening with sweat. “You good?” I ask, eyeing the row of men still watching her. Let them see who she grants her attention to—me.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” As if on instinct, Collie reaches to run her hand through the hair at the top of my head, straightening out my tousled waves. She reached for me without thinking twice. And the stirring is back in my chest, making me shiver from the effortless contact.
“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.”
Collie lowers to her bottom, putting my large frame directly between her legs at the bar. She pulls at the center of my shirt, bringing me closer. Inches away from her lips. “And how are they looking at me, Easton? I’d really love to know.”
I gulp, unable to move. “Like they want to touch you.”
She runs her finger up the side of my arm, torturously slow. It’s a tease, and I’m weak enough to chase it. “And how else?”
“Like they want to fuck you.”
“Mhm,” Collie moans softly. It’s subtle, but I feel it bone deep. Her small hand finds the side of my face, caressing my cheek with the softest of touches before settling in on my bottom lip. “It’s been far too long since I’ve been well and thoroughly fucked.”
I can’t take it any longer. I can’t hold back. Not when she says things like that. I want to break things. To throw her over my shoulder and make bad choices. Filthy choices. “Maybe we should rectify that then,” I grunt before crashing her lips to mine.
My kiss is possessive, not leaving room for any man in this bar to think he has a shot with her. No. She’s here with me, and mine for the infinite future.
Mine.
Our lips are fused together, leaving no room to breathe or speak. For the first time in my adult life, I don’t care who’s watching. Let them see. I’ve got nothing to hide. This woman has taken up every single one of my thoughts with her bold and beautiful heart.
“I think I’m ready to play pool now, Ranger.” Her voice is strained. Breathy. Turned on. But there’s a hidden meaning behind that statement.
“Fuck, Collie. I need a reason to fuck you that isn’t because I’m a jealous prick,” I exhale, our foreheads stabilizing with each other.
“Ask me what we’re playing for, then?”
For once, I chose not to tease her about her need to make everything a game. Not when, this time, I’ll hopefully come out on top.
“What are we playing for, lost girl? Make it good. And help me win.”
She kisses me one last time and whispers across my lips. “Winner picks the place. Wherever. However. No arguments. Just promise to make it the best we’ve ever had.”
Fucking hell. My cock aches against the seam of my jeans, dying to be inside of her. “Either way, we both win.”
A nod is all I’m granted, yet I know it’s the light at the end of my dry spell. And there’s no one else I can think of that I’d rather do it with.
“Game on, beautiful.” My head dips in, lips ghosting against her neck, and drinking in her sweet cotton candy scent. “And just a side note for you—I’m a good fucking shot. Be ready to be a good girl and listen to me. I know you seem to have trouble following the rules.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, I grab the shot of Jameson she abandoned beside her and throw it back. I have every intention of winning. And it’s time I show Collie just who I really am.
Starving. Deadly. Protective. Possessive.
Ready to win.