13. Danger
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
danger
The bell rings, and the door busts open. She comes through it like she knows she’s late and refuses to admit it. Winnie moves fast, phone still in her hand as she hurries behind the bar like she’s done it a hundred times. She drops her purse and phone under the counter, barely glancing up.
That’s when the whistles start.
Two idiots at a corner table lean back in their chairs, grinning like they just found exactly what they were lookin’ for.
“Well damn, sweetheart?—”
“Didn’t know this place came with a show.”
Winnie doesn’t even slow down. Just tosses her hair over her shoulder and reaches for a stack of glasses like she didn’t hear a thing.
My jaw tightens anyway.
I don’t know why it gets under my skin—she can handle herself. I know she’s not a kid anymore, but the way they’re looking at her, like they’re currently disrespecting her in their thoughts, has my drink going down a little too fast.
I tell myself I’m just watching the room. But my eyes don’t leave that table.
The problem with cowboys in this town is they don’t know when to quit.
I’ve witnessed it more times than I can count.
In a place like this, when a man’s not staring into his whiskey, he’s lookin’ for an excuse to talk, to have someone's attention. Bartender makes that easy—gives ’em a reason to step close and act like they’ve got a right to her time.
Rogue’s already halfway through his third beer, talking shit that I’m not listenin’ to. No, I’m still focused on two drunk ranch hands that keep their attention on Winnie. She’s not oblivious. She doesn’t do oblivious. She gives them a half-smile.
Charming clocks me staring, then tracks my line of sight to the two idiots. He puts it together quickly, dropping his shoulders. “Oh, shit.”
“What,” I say, not breaking eye contact with the pair, who are now makin’ some kinda game plan with each other.
“I know that look,” Charming says, pointin’ his beer at me. “Haven’t seen you give a look like that since—actually, come to think of it, I don’t think I ever have.”
I shrug. “You’re seeing things.”
“Yeah, I’m seeing you ready to break a couple of hands for staring at a woman who you took home last night.”
“It ain’t like that.”
Charming turns, eyes me hard. “But you’re into her, aren’t you?”
I bark out a laugh.
“No. No way. She’s just been helpin’ out on the ranch lately. Fisher would skin me alive if I let anything happen to her. Besides, I’m not like you. I don’t do the whole lovesick puppy dog thing. You’d marry Honey tomorrow if she gave you the time of day.”
Charming doesn’t even hesitate. “Damn right. I’d marry her, build her a fucking porch swing, the white picket fence. Even argue with her about stupid paint colors.”
I stare at him. “You’re sick.”
“You mean you don’t want what Trouble’s got with Sawyer?” He tips his chin toward the bar.
Trouble’s got Sawyer in front of him, two fingers pinching her nose while she swats at his arm, laughing.
“Exactly,” I say.
Charming grins. “Yeah, looks miserable. A woman who laughs at his jokes.”
Right on cue, Sawyer throws her head back and lets out a loud, unhinged cackle that scares poor Peggy behind her.
“Sounds like a nightmare,” I say.
“Gives him hell,” Charming goes on, counting on his fingers now. “Keeps him humble.”
“Hard pass.”
“Knows what he’s thinkin’ before he opens his mouth.”
Sawyer snags Trouble’s empty beer, then hands him a fresh one while he just watches her like she hung the moon.
I shake my head. “Torture.”
Charming sighs, all dreamy and dramatic. “Yeah. Real tragic way to live.”
He nudges me before he says, “Best part—he says it’s the meaningful, mindblowing sex.”
I raise a brow. “Please stop. I’m gettin’ hives.”
He whistles low. “Who the hell would want all that?”
“Not me.”
Charming clinks his bottle against mine. “Uh-huh. Well what you are is five seconds away from dragging those men lookin’ at Winnie to the parking lot.”
I glare at him.
He smirks.
I whisper into my glass, “Shut up.”
Charming watches Sawyer and Trouble. “You know the thing about being broken like us? Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find somebody else who sees your damage and somehow likes you for it anyway.”
“Jesus,” I say. “Can we not do poetry in a fucking bar right now?”
But the truth is, I hear him. My brothers know me better than anyone.
I shove the bullshit he’s spewing away because the two men—one built like a feed silo, the other like a string bean—are working up their nerve. I can smell it. Winnie’s running back and forth, got a tray in her hand, black skirt on with just barely enough material to be a technicality.
Charming catches me tensing. “Five,” he says, under his breath.
I cut him a look. “Don’t start with the countdown.”
He leans in. “You know it’s coming. Let’s just enjoy it.”
Silo and his buddy peel away from their table and make a beeline for Winnie.
“Four,” he says.
I see it coming before she does.
Silo leans in. I can’t hear what he says over the music and conversations, but I see his mouth move and that fucking smile spread.
Charming, beside me: “Three.”
Winnie blinks at him, polite but unimpressed.
His buddy—stringbean—says something that makes Silo laugh.
I catch only fragments carried over through the noise: “…pretty thing like you…”
I take a pull from my glass, watching Winnie as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. She’s uncomfortable. She points toward Honey—probably explainin’ that she’s gotta get back to work—but the two idiots just grin wider.
Silo looks like he’s trying to process whatever she just said, but it doesn’t click, so he leans in closer, putting a palm flat on the wall so she can’t get through.
Charming whispers, “Two.”
Winnie shifts like she’s trying to back away, but the other one blocks her.
I exhale slowly through my nose, and Charming says, “One.”
I set my drink down harder than I mean to and I don’t remember walking over but I’m there. Silo clocks me first—recognition flickers. Stringbean sees the look on Silo’s face and goes pale.
“You two get the impression she invited you over?”
They freeze.
“’Cause from where I was standing… I didn’t see a damn invitation.”
Silo swallows. “We were just bein’ friendly.”
Stringbean shifts back in his boots, voice small, “We don’t want any problems?—”
“Then best be on your way,” I say. “Because you just found one.”
Stringbean swallows and grabs Silo’s sleeve. “Let’s go, man.”
Silo stands his ground for one brave second. Then he blinks, does the math, and backs off, shouldering Stringbean on the way out.
Charming, behind me, does a clap. “Beautiful,” he hollers.
Winnie lowers the tray onto the table beside her and gives a small shake of her head. Then she sits, no longer in a rush to get back to the bar.
I claim the seat beside her and lean back. One arm stretches across the back of her chair.
Winnie lifts her chin, tryin’ her best to keep from laughing. Like she’s fine. Like two men didn’t just overstep and almost pin her against a wall.
“Um… what was that?” she teases.
“What?” I ask, searching her face.
She laughs, and some of the tightness in my chest finally loosens.
“Don’t what me. Thought you were about to put those guys through a table.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve done in this bar,” I say with a smirk.
She tilts her head, studying me like she’s working up the nerve for something. “Well, well,” she says, trying for casual and almost pulling it off. “Is Daddy being protective, or was that jealousy?”
Well, this is new. Is she flirting… or trying to see how far she can push me?
And did my cock just twitch at that?
“Careful, Winnie. You’re getting bold.”
“Maybe I just like to see how you react,” she says, shrugging.
My pulse spirals uncomfortably as I lean in just close enough to see the faint freckles across her nose, the way she’s trying real hard to look braver than she probably feels.
“You shouldn’t say shit like that to me,” I warn.
Her brows lift, smile still right there. “What? I can’t tease you a little?”
“You can.”
She giggles. “Then what—you don’t like it when someone calls you Daddy besides Fisher?”
I tip my chin down, let my gaze drag to her mouth before I meet her eyes again. Let her feel exactly where my head just went.
“Not usually.”
She looks curious, getting even braver now. “But you like it comin’ from me?”
I hold her stare, cock not only twitching but wakin’ up now.
“From you,” I rasp, “it’s not the worst thing.”
I shouldn’t like this—her close, looking at me like she knows exactly what she’s doing. I shouldn’t like the way my chest tightens just because she laughed. And I definitely shouldn’t want to hear her call me that again.
Winnie bites back a smile, running her tongue slowly along the inside of her teeth. “I think I’m growing on you.”
I bring my mouth close to her ear, my voice dropping into something that earns her full attention. “Keep sayin’ shit like that to me and you’ll find out.”
She laughs. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Trust me… you don’t want that promise.”
Her smile lingers a second longer, then fades just a little.
“On a serious note,” she says, makin’ me question which part she thought was a joke. “You don’t have to step in like that. I know to expect that in places like this.”
I lean back, jaw tightening. “This town's already talkin’ about what we are. Last thing I need is for people to start thinkin’ I don’t take care of what’s mine.”
She studies me, then sighs. “Fine.”
A beat passes. She fiddles with the edge of a cocktail napkin.
“You know what’s funny?” she asks outta nowhere. “I’ve wanted a man to look my way for so long… and the first ones who really do are creeps with beer breath.”
“What do you mean men don’t look your way?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Trouble and I were surface level. Not even sure if he ever really saw me. And most guys”—she gestures vaguely toward the room—“they look past me like I’m not even here.”
Her eyes land across the bar. “Take Finn Banks. Leaves great tips in the jar. Good family. I cleaned the drink he spilled the other day, and he told Honey he was impressed with the bar’s ‘self-cleaning feature.’ If I caught on fire, he’d probably just think someone turned on the fireplace.”
I blink. “You’re into Finn Banks?”
Why does the thought make me want to knock his teeth in?
She gives a helpless little smile. “He seems nice.” A shrug. “I’m just not good with men. Maybe I’m too nice. Too forgettable.”
Forgettable.
Yeah. Not a damn chance.
I drag a hand over my jaw, buying myself a second I don’t have. Because stepping up—being the man who shows her exactly how unforgettable she is—that’s not in the cards for me. I don’t get to be that man for her, for anyone.
But I can do this.
“Winnie,” I say, quieter now. “You’re doin’ me a favor, lettin’ Rylee think there’s somethin’ goin’ on between us. I know that puts a target on your back.”
She waves it off, but she’s listening.
“So, let me return it.”
Her brows pinch. “Return it how?”
If I can’t be the guy she ends up with—or even the one who gets to treat her right—I can at least make sure the next one doesn’t miss what’s right in front of him.
“I’ll teach you,” I say. “Everything you need to know to make any man fall at your feet.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Men aren’t complicated,” I tell her with a crooked half-smile. “Half the time men are just hopin’ a woman’ll look at them twice and laugh at their bad jokes.”
Her lips part a little.
“I’ll show you how easy it is,” I go on. “How to make ’em eat out the palm of your hand.” I force the next name out like it doesn’t scrape on the way up. “Finn,” I add, because I apparently hate myself. “Or whoever else catches your eye.”
She smiles—soft, hopeful, like I just handed her something good.
And I ignore the tight, twisting feeling in my chest that says I just volunteered to build my own personal hell with a damn toolbox and a smile.
“You’d really do that?” she asks.
I hold her gaze, even if it costs me. “Yeah. I would.”
Maybe in the next life I’m not the kind of man you keep your distance from. Maybe I won't come pre-ruined, and maybe I would have a chance with a woman like Winnie.
Then the bell over the door rings, and I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. The bar goes quiet. Every muscle in my body tightens, every sense going sharp.
I barely glance over—just enough to be sure.
Rylee.
And the look on her face tells me the night’s about to go straight to hell.