Faking It With a Cowboy Billionaire (Whiskey Falls #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Dakota

I know an asshole when I see one.

I could point them out so easily when I was in school, see the bullies being little pricks to those who couldn’t fight back.

Just like I know in an instant when I’m sitting across the bench from someone during trial. It’s usually those who have more arrogance than sense.

They set off my asshole-o-meter instantly.

Everyone except for Laughlin fucking Chadwick.

There was something about Laughlin that pulled me in. I don’t know if it was his unbelievably good looks or his charm. Everything about him drew me in like a moth to a flame. And boy, did I get burned.

“Mark, another, please,” I raise my voice over the bass-heavy music, leaning my body against the cool mahogany bar. While not exactly a regular at The Whiskey Dam, I’m here enough to have the bartender know me and my go-to drink. Then again, Whiskey Falls isn’t that big of a place. It’s either here or The Lucky Dog in town to escape reality for a little while, and tonight I chose the place with music so loud I can barely hear myself think.

Just what I need for a day like today.

Looking up at the shelves of liquor across from me, backlit with a neon blue light, I can’t help but think of the ocean. The ocean reminds me of Laughlin and the trip to Vancouver Island we took a few months ago. The very same trip where I found out he had been using me to gain the upper hand on my cases, only to have it used against me in court. He’d lied, cheated, and stole; and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t prove anything. It’s my word against his, and that’s what hurts the most.

That, and I’ve also lost all trust in people and my self-respect.

“Fuck!” I slap my hand on the bar, narrowing my eyes down its length. Where the fuck is Mark?

My curse vanishes with the pounding music. I have been so blindsided by his betrayal I feel lost. As if everything I’ve ever known has come crumbling down on me. For someone that prides themselves in being able to spot shit like this, I was clueless. I was too blinded by love—by lust—to see clearly.

I’m never going to let that happen to me again.

“Are you sure, Dakota?” Mark asks as he walks up to me, leaning his strong, tattooed forearms on the bar.

He’s sexy in his own right. Brown hair so dark it’s almost black in the dim bar lighting. He looks as if he works out; his muscles straining against his black button-up shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, putting his full tattoo sleeves on display.

I wish I could see him as more than just Mark, the bartender. I wish I could get lost in someone like him to help make me forget all the shit I’ve had to go through in the last few months, but I can’t. I’ve been coming to the bar long enough to be considered a regular, which leaves Mark purely in the ‘I supply you with your liquor’ zone.

I also wished I could sleep with someone and not care. I would love more than anything to be able to shut off the part of my brain that wants a personal connection with someone while also exploring the physical. But that’s not for me. If it were, Mark would be in the running for the perfect bed mate. But he’s seen too much. Knows too much.

“Just give it to me, Mark.” I use my courtroom voice, firm and demanding. It’s the voice that lets everyone know I’m not fucking around.

“Last one, Dakota. I mean it.” He sighs as he reaches below the bar and pulls out a glass.

I roll my eyes but keep a close watch as he pours two fingers’ worth from the bottle of Jack. “Whatever you say.”

Snatching the glass from him, I swallow a healthy sip. I relish the burn and smoke as the amber liquid slides down my throat. The burn reminds me that I’m still alive. It reminds me that I can still feel more than shame and guilt.

“I mean it, Dakota.” Mark doesn’t even try to hide the exasperation in his voice. “No more, and don’t go getting yourself into any trouble. You may be a lawyer here in Whiskey Falls, but that doesn’t put you above the law.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Or, more like, I don’t want to admit I know what he’s talking about. I may skirt the law when assholes set off my asshole-o-meter, but they all deserve it.

“All I’m saying is, don’t go all Carrie Underwood on Laughlin again, alright?”

“Why would you think that?” I still the glass in front of my mouth, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Sure, I may have taken a baseball bat to Laughlin’s precious Mercedes when we got home from the island, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it again.

I don’t think so, anyway.

Mark tilts his chin to point over my shoulder. I turn, following his gaze and suck in a breath.

Fucking hell. Not him. Not tonight.

Okay, maybe there is a reason for Mark to think I would swing a slugger at a car tonight.

“No problems tonight,” Mark warns.

I grab my whiskey, downing it in one gulp. Heat engulfs my body as the drink works its magic. Now, I just need to forget tonight ever happened.

“Dakota, is that you?” A familiar boastful voice rings behind me.

Putting on my best fake smile, I turn to face my unwanted guest. “Laughlin.” I halt briefly at the bleached blonde on his arm. “I’m surprised you’re here. I thought the Whiskey Dam was beneath you.”

“What would make you think that?” the asshole laughs, squeezing the bimbo’s hand, which is placed firmly in the crook of his elbow. “I love this place, don’t I, Mindy?”

“Yup,” the blonde replies, popping the ‘p’ while twirling a strand around her finger.

“Right. And Mindy is…?” I don’t want to ask, but curiosity is getting the better of me. I also can’t help but look her up and down, seeing exactly what Laughlin is attracted to. She’s stick thin, bottle blonde with big blue eyes. She looks like she’s just going along for the ride and is perfectly okay with inflating Laughlin’s ego.

So, the complete opposite of me.

“Mindy is my girlfriend.” He emphasizes the word ‘girlfriend’ as if he knew it would hurt me more

The thought of Laughlin being with someone else isn’t what hurts me. What causes the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach is that he can move on so quickly without any remorse for what he did.

That asshole.

“How nice,” I sneer.

“Alone in a bar, I see?” I don’t miss the smirk on his smug face as he makes a show of looking around me.

I want nothing more than to wipe that look off his face. The way he’s standing there with his new girlfriend, running his finger along his lip, tells me he knows what game he’s playing. He thinks he has the upper hand on me. He thinks he’s somehow bested me because he found someone that cares more about the zeros in his bank account than the words that come out of his mouth.

The vindictive, arrogant asshole.

“What makes you think that?” My mind races for ways I can make him think I’m not here alone. Like I am. I need something that sounds believable that will get this prick out of my hair so I can go back to drinking and forget his face.

“Oh, honey. It’s okay. Break-ups are hard. I get it.” His condescending tone makes me want to throw up.

How did I ever find this attractive?

Casually looking down the length of the bar, I notice a man with his back toward me. Black cowboy hat on top of his head, leather jacket stretched across his broad shoulders. He reaches his left hand over the bar to grab his beer, showing his lack of a wedding ring.

I can use this.

Sending up a quick prayer to anyone that will listen, I smile at Laughlin while reaching out my hand and running it up the stranger’s arm.

“Laughlin, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend.” I smile the brightest fake smile I can muster, hoping beyond hope that the person I’m groping right now is willing to play along.