21. Winnie
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
winnie
Finn gives me a slow once-over, beer bottle dangling from his fingers. "Lookin' good tonight, Winnie."
"Thanks, Finn."
"Can I buy you a drink? Figure it'd be nice for someone to wait on you for a change."
I can't help but smile. "I'm good, but thank you."
Before Finn can try again, Rogue barrels between us. His shoulder catches Finn's just enough. The beer slips from Finn's hand and hits his boots before dropping on the floor.
“My bad.” Rogue looks down at the mess. "Hate when that happens."
The apology sounds convincing.
The smirk he sends Danger across the room doesn't.
Honey saves Finn from saying anything else by climbing onto a barstool, arms stretched above the noise. Her glossy hair catches every neon light.
“Alright, listen up!”
The crowd hushes. Slow country music is playing in the background, and you can feel the expectation. Honey’s voice carries, no mic needed.
“Tonight, we’re playing Deputy and Outlaw.”
I drift to the edge of the circle as Honey’s announcement lands.
A commotion comes through the front door—Rylee and her entourage sweep in.
I knew they wouldn’t miss this night. They’ve come to ruin something.
I see their eyes: Rylee scans the room until she spots Danger.
He’s talking to Trouble and Charming, heads bent over their beers.
Honey gets the crowd's attention again as she explains the rules. There’s a hat.
Inside it, slips of paper. Two fates—Deputy or Outlaw.
Deputies pick their Outlaw. If you get Outlaw, you have to wait to be chosen.
Once we’re all paired, you vanish for an hour.
Keys go in the basket. Has to be somewhere close enough to walk, just sixty minutes off the grid.
And I almost forgot, every Deputy slip comes with a dare on the other side.
If you don't do the dare, you have to take a shot out of a boot that's been sitting behind the bar since it opened.
Legend says it belonged to the original owner.
Legend also says the smell has only gotten stronger with age.
“Choose your outlaw wisely because these dares are spicy,” she cackles.
Honey shakes the hat for the first draw.
Bride’s privilege—Sawyer goes first. She grins, plucks a card, and barely glances before announcing her pick.
“Deputy.” She turns to Trouble, and loud enough for the back of the bar to hear, shouts, “Hands behind your back, cowboy.” Trouble winks and follows orders.
Rogue, predictably, howls. More draws. Laughter, whispers. I nurse my drink as others leave, one by one. Rylee positions herself in front of me.
“You’ve got to pick Danger,” one of Rylee’s friends whispers to her. “My money’s on him for being the best lay in the room.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Rylee says, just loud enough to carry. “It’s always the quiet ones that know exactly what they’re doing.”
I wonder if he hears it. If he cares. I wonder if I do.
The hat circles, growing lighter. Keys clink into the metal basket as the stakes build. My heart beats faster as the hat approaches.
I catch Finn’s eye. He’s patiently waiting his turn. If he draws before me, I wonder if he’d pick me… and if Danger would allow it. But the hat lands in front of me before it gets to him. I reach in, and grab the paper closest to me. I open it, bracing.
“Outlaw,” I say out loud.
Danger turns as I say it, and directly behind him Finn hears it too.
Well, shit. That means I have to wait to be picked.
A few more names get called. A few more laughs. My nerves never really settle.
Then it’s Danger’s turn.
He reaches into the hat, long fingers disappearing inside before he pulls out a folded slip. He opens it, eyes scanning the words. Something flickers across his face.
Disappointment. It’s quick. But I see it.
He must have drawn outlaw.
Fantastic.
So that’s it. Fate has decided I don’t get him tonight. Instead, he’ll be paired off with someone else. Somewhere I can’t see. Doing god knows what.
And worse than that—I’ll have to do the same.
I don’t get to feel this way. This was never promised. He’s not actually mine.
Danger lowers the slip quickly.
That’s when I notice movement behind him.
Charming. He steps in close behind Danger, whispers something I can’t hear, and just like that—there’s a trade that Honey doesn’t see because she’s currently telling the person that went before Danger that they forgot to hand over their keys.
It happens so fast no one else catches it.
But I do.
Danger doesn’t even check the new slip. He just lifts his chin and says, “Deputy.”
Relief hits me so hard I start to unlock my knees that have gone numb.
Charming grins beside him, like he just pulled off something no one knew about.
“Guess you get to pick,” Honey calls, eyebrows up.
All eyes are on Danger.
Rylee steps forward, performative cough. “I have outlaw,” she says, in the sweetest fake voice I’ve ever heard.
But Danger ignores it. Instead, he turns and looks straight at me.
He’s next to me in three steps, and hands me his deputy slip. I slide it in my back pocket and before I know what’s happening, he grabs my hand and he leads me toward the door. Everyone notices. Whistles. Cheers. Boots stomp.
Someone hollers, "Atta boy!"
I hear Rylee's voice behind us, ragged and venomous, but I don't care anymore. Not when Danger's thumb brushes over my knuckles and makes her the last thing on my mind.
He leads me outside and into the cool night air. I shouldn't like something as simple as holding hands this much. But I do. Maybe it's because he hasn't let go once or because everyone saw him take mine.
"Where are you taking me?" I ask, breathless.
“Right here.”
He stops at what used to be an old storefront next to the bar, glass dusty. He kneels, lifts the mat, retrieves a key.
“Let me guess,” I say. “You have bodies buried here?”
He unlocks the door, pushes it open, and holds it for me. “Guess you’ll find out.”
Inside, the air is all new book smell, dust, and the faintest trace of wood polish. It’s nicer than you’d expect on the outside. The shelves lean, every surface blanketed with abandoned paperbacks. The counter is still littered with receipts and an unplugged credit card machine.
He walks me through. “It used to be a bookstore,” he says. His voice is more intimate now that we’re alone. “My grandmother owned it. Never really made money, but she kept it running ‘cause she liked having a place to read.”
“Does she know you break in here?”
He gives a soft laugh. “She left it to me. Told me not to sell it because it’s special, that one day I’d know what to do with it.” He gestures to the walls, the piles of books. “Some people have treehouses growing up, but this was my safe place.”
I wander, fingers trailing over battered covers, picking up titles at random.
“I always wanted to own a place like this,” I say, thinking how we’re struggling to pay rent on our tiny bakery, and he has all this—just sitting.
“Not just a bookstore, but it would make such a nice bakery, too. I’d have coffee and fresh pastries over there. People would come for the smell alone.”
He watches me, smiling. “Wanna see my favorite part?”
“Um, yes.”
He gestures for me to follow. He moves over to a large shelf, then pulls a book, which unlocks a hidden door. It leads to a narrow stairwell. He takes the stairs two at a time, reaches a landing, and flicks on the light.
Twinkle lights—they’re everywhere—strung along the ceiling, illuminating a space barely bigger than a dorm room.
There’s a mattress on the floor, flannel comforter, a pile of blankets in one corner, and a window overlooking Main street.
There’s a white bookcase, half-full, and an electric fireplace.
A beanbag chair. A shoebox stereo. The carpet is white and impossibly clean.
“It’s…” I have no words. “What is this place?”
He shrugs. “Used to feel a lot bigger when I was younger.”
I cross the space, sit on the edge of the bed, and let myself be impressed. “This is amazing, Danger. I can’t believe you have this little secret.”
He stands near the door, hands in pockets, not looking at me. “I used to come here when things at home got… bad.”
I’ve heard stories, pieced together from Trouble and rumors. Their father, a man so mean no one ever crossed him. People in town still talk about him like he was the boogie man.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it.
He shakes his head. “We all go through shit.”
“I know,” I say, softer. “But you shouldn’t when you’re a kid.”
He shrugs. “That’s why I had this place. Used to bring my brothers here sometimes too, but I doubt they remember.”
“It’s honestly better than a treehouse.”
I look out the window at the view of the street. In another life, I’d live in a place like this, above a bookstore, a secret hiding place no one knows about.
“So, what’s the dare?” he asks.
I forgot about the dare. I pull the paper from my back pocket, flatten it on my thigh. “If your relationship with the outlaw has any rules, it’s time to break one.”
It’s written in Honey’s handwriting, looped and sassy.
“It actually says that?” he asks, and I hand it to him.
He reads it twice, then looks at me.
“So, which rule do we break?” I ask, holding back a laugh. It’s almost like Honey wrote this just for me.
No feelings.
No fucking.
Both his rules.
Maybe fate is on my side tonight, because I’ll certainly take either.
“Guess you’ll have to pick one,” I say.
He sits next to me on the bed. Not touching, but closer than before.
“Out of all the damn dares, how did we end up with this one?”
He’s still rereading the paper like the words might change, so I ask him what I’m thinking. “If we weren’t fake dating, would you have picked me tonight?”
It’s like he doesn’t even think about it. “Yes.”
He pulls off his hat and drags a hand through his hair before settling it back on his head. “Would you have picked Finn? Or that Turtle guy?”
The way he’s looking at me, it’s almost like if I answer wrong, everything will collapse.
But I’ve never been good at lying.
I let out a quiet laugh. “Danger.”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t want Finn or anyone else.”
He studies me.
“I never did.”
“Then why?—”
“Because of your stupid rules, I’m not allowed to want what I actually want.”
His voice comes out rough.
“So then you actually want…”
I look at his mouth, at the scar on his jaw, at his rough hands. Every imperfect thing about him almost draws me in more.
“You, idiot.”
I am officially crushing on this man. More than crushing. And now he knows it.
I know, without a doubt, that I want him.
Not for the game, not because of the dare, not even for the audience we left behind.
Because I want him.
Somewhere below us, on the street, a car alarm chirps. The world keeps going. But up here, in this secret, glowing hidden magical treehouse of his, it’s only us.