Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Chance
W hiskey Falls flashes by in a blur as the limo makes its way through the main streets of town.
It’s the town I grew up in. I’ve known most of its inhabitants either through my family’s company or through school and the various activities I did as a child. But when I really think about it, I don’t really know anyone. Not really. No one knows the real Chance Declan. No one except for Wyatt.
I don’t know how I feel about that, now that I think of it. It’s something I’ve always worked hard at—keeping everyone at a distance. I’ve found it’s just easier that way. Having a stone wall around your heart and an asshole attitude is the only way I know how to be.
But now there’s Dakota.
“Stop looking like you’re going to throw yourself from the fucking limo,” Wyatt groans from the seat across from me. His arm rests on the back of the seat, his long legs spread into the middle.
“Stop making me go to these things and I’ll stop looking miserable about it,” I bite back.
“You know I hate these things as much as you do.” Wyatt pulls at his tie, looking like he wants to rip it off.
“I know,” I grumble. Looking back out the window, the feeling of dread sinks in my stomach. All day I’ve found myself looking forward to seeing Dakota and spending time with her. I have no idea why. Wyatt must have gotten into my head yesterday, asking about my intentions with Dakota.
I scoff at the idea. ‘Intentions.’ As if he’s some sort of chaperone needing to protect her from me.
Well, maybe he is.
I’ve never wanted to spend time with a woman outside of the bedroom before, but with her, it’s different. She challenges me in a way no woman ever has before. She would probably slap me, or shoot me, if I ever tried to give her jewelry or fly her off to a tropical destination.
Not that I’ve ever done that for a woman before, but plenty have tried to turn me into a man that would.
I also haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss. While just for show in the bar’s parking lot, I want to do it again. It was intoxicating. Everything about her draws me in and makes me want things I shouldn’t.
The limo pulls to a stop in front of Dakota’s house. I suck in a deep breath, looking up at the craftsman-style home in front of me. Dakota is waiting on the porch in a form-fitting red dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. The neckline is a deep cut, showing enough cleavage to drive me crazy, but still be respectable for the gala.
I wanted someone to impress the sponsors and damn, did I find it.
“Are you going to go out and meet her or just stare at her all night?” Wyatt asks with a smirk.
“Fuck off.” I open the door, not able to take my eyes off of her.
“Did you come all the way out here just to turn around and go back to your ranch?” she asks with a smirk as she walks down the stairs. Her dress has a slit at the side, giving me a glimpse of her long, lean legs and heels that defy gravity.
“Yes.”
“Why? You could have just sent the limo to pick me up. Aren’t you needed there?”
“And not make a grand entrance?” I ask with a chuckle, slowly closing the gap between us down the stone pathway in her yard.
The truth is, I needed to get off the ranch. I felt like I was suffocating with the caterers and event planners running around preparing. I had been stopped no less than ten times with questions while getting ready. If I didn’t leave, I would have been on the verge of kicking everyone out.
“Hmm… Well, you’re late,” she says, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk.
I check my watch. “It’s five-oh-two.”
“Weren’t you the one that expressed how imperative it is that I be ready for five o’clock on the dot?” Her words are laced with sarcasm as she takes her final steps toward me.
“Well, I apologize.” I hold my elbow out to her. “Shall we, sweetheart? We wouldn’t want to be any more later than we already are.”
“Why, Chance Declan, do you have a sense of humour in that personality of yours?” she chuckles, placing her hand in the crook of my arm.
“It’s been known to slip through the cracks from time to time, but I wouldn’t let it get around. Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation as the town asshole, you know.”
“Of course not,” she chuckles as she climbs into the limo.
I stand behind her, watching her climb in, admiring the way her ass looks in the dress. My brain can’t help but zero in on her lack of panty line.
Fuck me, no underwear.
I look up at the sky, sending up a prayer and a curse. Reaching for anything that’s going to get me through tonight knowing she’s not wearing anything under that high cut dress. Discreetly adjusting myself—suddenly aware of how tight my pants are—I climb in after her.
“You look beautiful, Dakota,” Wyatt remarks as I close the door.
I don’t miss the blush that graces her cheeks. I look between her and Wyatt, desperate to see if there’s more to the comment than Wyatt being nice.
Wyatt is never nice.
“Thank you, Wyatt. Did he drag you along to come pick me up?”
“Yeah, someone has to keep him from telling the driver to take him out of town,” he jokes.
Wyatt also never jokes. What the fuck is going on?
“I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot the other night. I hope we can officially start over. I’m Dakota Meyers.” She offers her hand to Wyatt, wearing a wider smile. I can’t tear my eyes away from her lips, which are painted the same shade of red as her dress.
At the moment, all I can think about is kissing her and smudging that lipstick. I want to run my hands through her dark brown hair, letting out all the pins that hold it up into some sort of updo.
“Don’t worry about it,” Wyatt says, taking her hand and raising it to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of her hand. “I’d be more than happy to start over with you.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“Alright, knock it off,” I growl, grabbing Dakota’s hand from Wyatt’s. I lace my fingers with hers, resting them on my knee.
“What are you doing?” she asks, tugging her hand from mine, which only makes me hold on tighter.
“You’re my girlfriend, remember? I’m supposed to hold your hand.”
“In public,” she rolls her eyes, but stops tugging. “Wyatt knows what this is.”
“Call it practice. I don’t want you pulling away from me in front of the investors, do I?” I can’t help the bite in my tone, or the surge of possessiveness I have toward her. I find both very unsettling.
“No, we wouldn’t want that, would we, darling?”
Wyatt chokes on nothing, holding his fist to his mouth to cover his smile as he looks away.
The fucker.
I hate the fake smile she’s giving me right now. I hate that she brings out these reactions in me. I’m not like this. I’m a love ‘em and leave ‘em guy. I don’t want to hold hands or worry because my best friend kissed her hand.
Shaking my head, I drop her hand and turn to stare out the window.
I can’t do this. Who was I fooling thinking I could even pretend to be in a relationship. Everyone’s going to take one look at us and know this is all a farce.
What I can’t ignore is the hurt-filled gasp from the woman beside me. I discarded her so carelessly, but I can’t help it. I need to stop these thoughts. These feelings.
“Anyway,” Wyatt starts, picking up his conversation with Dakota. It’s something about a case, or local events, I don’t know. I can’t focus on them. I need to pretend Dakota is just another buckle bunny. She’s just arm candy to get the ranch through the rodeo and win the approval of the sponsors.
The limo pulls into the drive of the ranch, passing the large gates I have a love/hate relationship with. While I love that I can close them and shut out the world, I sometimes hate what they represent. I’m grateful for the life I have, but it comes with costs, such as an expectation of living my life in a certain way.
My dad never had that problem. He had been with my mom since they were teenagers. I don’t stand a chance to live up to my parents and their lives, nor do I want to try.
I just wish everyone else would fuck off.
“Are you going to get out?” Dakota’s sweet voice distracts me from my spiralling thoughts.
I look up, seeing we have stopped at my front door. A line of limos waits behind us, bringing more assholes I need to impress.
“Yup,” I grind out as the driver opens the door.
I climb out, holding my hand out to help Dakota, who gracefully places her smaller hand in mine as she slides out of the back. She takes a moment to smooth down her dress and smiles up at me, blinding me with her beauty.
The setting sun creates a perfect backdrop behind her, illuminating the red in her dark brown hair.
“Are we ready to do this?” Wyatt asks, stepping out behind Dakota, smoothing out his black button-up shirt.
“Yes, I can’t wait to get this over with,” Dakota says with a smile as she steps up next to me.
The venom in her voice hurts, but I know it’s well deserved. I’ve been an ass to her and should be thankful she didn’t tell the driver to just turn around and take her home.
Which she has every right to.
I take her hand and place it in the crook of my arm as we make our way around back. The grounds behind my home have been transformed with large white tents, round tables, and a dance floor. Jazz music plays from speakers by the front where a small stage has been set up with a four-person band. Why is there jazz music at a gala for a rodeo? Fuck if I know. I assume the donors are too sophisticated for some country music, beers out of the taillights of trucks, and a fire pit.
Which is also why I wasn’t allowed to have anything to do with the planning.
People mingle and chat as the wait staff wearing white suits bring around champagne and appetizers. I know the moment we are spotted as people turn and stare, their conversations momentarily stop.
I should smile and welcome my guests, but I don’t have it in me right now. Instead, I lead Dakota over to the bar. “Whiskey. Neat. Double.” The bartender nods once and grabs a glass.
“Of course, Sir,” he says, looking between me and Dakota.
“I would love a red wine, too, please,” she says as the bartender slings a glass of amber liquid across the bar top. “You must excuse him; he’s a nervous wreck at these things. Social gatherings just aren’t his thing. Sometimes he forgets basic manners, don’t you, babe?”
“Yup,” I grunt, taking a sip of my whiskey. I down half the drink in one gulp, relishing in its smoky burn. The pain is a welcome distraction from my current surroundings. And company.
“Declan!” A deep voice rings from behind us. Recognition floods me, making me down the rest of my drink and motion for another as Dakota accepts her wine.
I turn to find a face that begs to meet my fist.
“Jones.” I clench my jaw as the man approaches.
I don’t like many people, but if there’s one man I truly hate, it’s Todd Jones. Owner of the next biggest ranch in the area, he always goes out of his way to make things difficult for me, no matter what it is.
“Fancy party you throw here. Not like the fundraiser we threw at our ranch last month, but it’s—quaint.”
“I think it’s lovely, don’t you, babe?” Dakota asks, linking her free arm with mine.
“Speaking of lovely, who are you?” Todd’s attention turns to her, and more specifically, where our arms are joined.
“Dakota Meyers. And you are?”
“Todd Jones. Owner of Three Hills Ranch.” Todd holds out his hand for a shake, which Dakota accepts, only to have him lift her hand and place a kiss on her knuckles with a slight bow.
What the fuck is with men kissing her hand tonight?
“Knock it off, Jones,” I say, pushing him away from her hand.
“Relax, Declan, I’m just being polite.” He turns to Dakota. “I swear he’s such a caveman sometimes. Don’t tell me the rumours are actually true and you’re a couple. You are much too good for him.”
I’m a breath away from sucker punching Todd when Dakota squeezes my arm and dons her courtroom voice.
“The rumours are very much true and believe me, I’m thankful every day I convinced this man to be mine. You also don’t know the first thing about me, so do not presume you know that I’m too good for him. I think daily he’s too good for me.”
“He’s not too good for anyone, except his own ego,” Todd laughs out loud, raising his voice so everyone can hear.
“Listen, Jones.” I take a menacing step toward the man, only to be held back by Dakota’s grip on my arm and Wyatt’s restraining grasp on my shoulder. I didn’t hear my friend approach, but I’m not surprised he shows up when I need him.
“Can it, Jones,” Wyatt warns.
“Or what, Winters?” Todd rounds on Wyatt, not lowering his voice. “What are you going to do? You need my money too much for the rodeo. You won’t kick me out.”
“Fuck this!” I brush off both Dakota and Wyatt. “And fuck you, Jones. You come waltzing in here acting like you’re some hot shot rancher when all you are is a washed up wanna-be trying to be relevant.”
“At least I’m trying to make a name for myself. Better than a silver-spoon fed trust fund baby that couldn’t work on a ranch, much less run one.”
I can feel the anger rising in my chest. I want to lay my hands on Jones, get out all the anger that’s been brewing inside of me, but I can’t. Not here.
Breaking my gaze away from him, I notice we’ve gathered a crowd around us. The very people I have to impress are now gasping, staring as if we are a circus attraction, which, to be honest, we are right now.
Todd looks smug with his chest puffed out, strutting like he’s won. “Got nothing to say, Declan? Don’t worry. Soon I’ll have your ranch, and your woman.” Todd leers at Dakota in a way that makes me want to claw his eyes out. I may not have a claim to Dakota himself, but I won’t let this snake get so much as another look at her.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I lunge forward and grab Todd by the collar with both hands, pulling him close. “Get the fuck off my property, Jones, and you can take your money with you. I don’t want you to have anything to do with the rodeo; do you understand me? You won’t even be able to watch from the stands after I’m done with you.” I lower my voice, uttering my words through gritted teeth at his ear. “Say what you want about me and my ranch, but if you so much as even breathe in Dakota’s direction again, it will be your last. Do you understand me?”
Todd’s eyes widen at my threat but soon turn into a sneer when he realizes everyone is watching us. “I’d like to see you try, Declan. You’re nothing but a selfish asshole and you’ll run this ranch into the ground within a year. And when you do, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
I rear my fist back when my arm meets resistance.
“Don’t do this, Chance. Not here,” Wyatt says behind me, holding me back.
Without hesitation, Todd raises his fist and hits me in the chin, taking advantage of me being held back. Women in the gathering crowd gasp around us. A man I don’t recognize grabs Todd, pulling him away.
“Chance!” Dakota yells, trying to inspect my face, but I push her behind me. I don’t want her anywhere near Todd.
“Get out,” I seethe at the other man. “You’re done, Jones. Do you hear me?”
“Chance, you’re bleeding,” Dakota says softly, bringing a hand to my chin.
“Fuck this.” I shrug her off and turn, stalking toward the house. I rip off my tie and throw it at a waiter carrying a full tray of flutes as he walks out of my kitchen.
I barely register my name being called as I slam the door behind me.