Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marina
I’m not entirely sure how I got talked into this.
One minute, I was standing on the porch of my cabin, saying goodbye to Royce, and the next, he was looking at me over the roof of his truck and asking, “You wanna come out with us tonight?”
He asked it like it was no big deal. Right in front of my mother.
Which was how I ended up with Ginger eagerly offering to stay with Ryder.
Of course she did. She practically beamed as she said it.
Then she disappeared back inside, announcing that I had absolutely nothing appropriate to wear, and proceeded to take over my evening.
The result is what I’m wearing now.
A fitted deep-teal suede dress with a plunging zipper front and fringe running across the chest, down the skirt, and around the hem.
Mom cinched it at my waist with a wide tooled leather belt and a big silver buckle.
She paired it with brown cowgirl boots and my brown felt hat, then curled my hair and did my makeup.
She went a little heavy-handed on the eye shadow.
But I have to admit, she did a damn good job.
And the truth is, I like it. I feel pretty.
I like the way the fringe sways against my skin when I move. I like the boots. I even like the ridiculous amount of eyeliner.
Mostly, I like the nervous little hum running through me.
I’m sitting in the middle of Royce’s truck, settled on the bench seat between him and Jovie, with one leg angled around the gear shifter because there is absolutely no graceful way to straddle the thing.
Jovie is squeezed against my other side.
In the back, Cabe, Micah, and Harleigh are packed in together.
“So, this place is called The Soused Cow?” I ask.
Harleigh leans forward between the seats. “Best honky-tonk in Wyoming.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Clever name.”
She grins. “It’s spacious inside, with a stage for the house band and a great dance floor and lots of tables.
There’s a separate area with pool tables and dartboards, but they took out two pool tables and knocked down the wall to one of the storage rooms to make room for a mechanical bull.
They also installed a couple of big-screen TVs over the bar. ”
“Why would they install TVs if they have a band?”
Harleigh grins. “They’re playing Axle’s ride.”
Oh, right. The Dinosaur is this weekend.
I look over at Jovie. “You excited to see Axle ride?”
She smiles. “I am.” Then she makes a face.
“But honestly? I don’t know if it’s worse, being arena-side, knowing that if he gets hurt, I can get to him immediately”—her gaze shifts to Royce—“or sitting in a bar, watching him get tossed around on a giant screen and knowing there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. ”
Harleigh reaches over and pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry.”
Jovie looks at her. “We’ll make sure you have enough tequila that you don’t think too much about it tonight.”
Royce snorts. “Yeah. A plan that has absolutely no chance of backfiring.”
Harleigh looks pleased with herself.
“True,” I say. “I’m a pretty cheap drunk myself. One too many, and I lose all control of my emotions.”
Royce’s lips curl. “Your emotions? Or your inhibitions?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Emotions. I tend to cry a lot.”
He chuckles. “You’re a sad drunk?”
“I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad. I cry when I’m angry.”
He grins. “How about when you’re satisfied?”
I elbow him in the ribs.
“Ouch,” he says.
I turn, and my face is almost in his neck. “You would know.”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and I watch his fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
He slides his eyes to me. “You ladies need to behave yourselves tonight.”
From the back seat, Cabe says, “Harleigh especially.”
She twists around. “I always behave myself.”
Everyone in the truck except me laughs.
“I promised Porter I’d keep a close eye on you until he picks you up,” Cabe says.
Harleigh huffs. “He knows better than anyone that I can hold my liquor.”
“Right,” Cabe says.
“Where is Porter tonight?” I ask, turning to look at Harleigh.
“He’s hanging out with his granddad tonight. He’s been having dizzy spells, and we’re staying at his place to keep an eye on him,” she says, then looks at Cabe. “And I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know,” he mumbles. “He made me promise.”
She mutters something under her breath.
“Don’t worry, fellas,” I say. “We can handle any unruly cowboys we happen to stumble across tonight.”
“Damn straight,” Harleigh says, lifting her chin.
I turn back to catch Royce smiling. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re laughing at us,” I say.
“I’m just thinking how you fit right in with this crowd.”
His eyes meet mine for a second. Something warm flickers there. Then he looks back at the road.
My stomach gives another stupid flutter.
When we pull into The Soused Cow, I can hear country music before Royce even kills the engine.
The parking lot is gravel, packed with pickup trucks and SUVs beneath a scatter of old-fashioned lampposts. Music spills through the walls, along with the distant roar of a crowd.
Royce parks beneath one of the lamps, and we all start climbing out.
I slide out of the driver’s door behind Royce and step down from the truck, smoothing my dress.
The fringe sways around my thighs.
Before I can take two steps, Harleigh hooks her arm through mine.
She looks me up and down. “Girl”—she gives me an approving nod—“you look hot.”
I glance down at myself. “Ginger picked it.”
“I knew I liked that woman,” she says.
I smile.
Then I look toward the glowing entrance of The Soused Cow. And suddenly, that nervous excitement humming beneath my skin shifts into something else. Anticipation.
I glance over at Royce.
He’s standing beside his truck, one hand resting on the door, watching me.
His appreciative gaze travels over me slowly before his eyes meet mine. And that little hum inside me gets a whole hell of a lot louder.
Harleigh gives my arm a tug. “Come on, hot stuff.”
I let her pull me toward the door and force myself not to look back at Royce.
Harleigh drags me onto the dance floor after several tequila shots. Porter had good reason to ask Cabe to keep an eye on her; she’s a little wild. Which is a stark contrast to the reserved, buttoned-up person he seems to be. I guess opposites really do attract.
The alcohol is warm in my veins, loosening everything I usually keep locked down.
“Come on, Marina! Let’s give ’em a show in that dress.”
I laugh as Harleigh grabs my hands and pulls me into a ridiculous shimmy in front of the band, and I’m still laughing when a pair of strong arms circle my waist.
I barely have time to register what’s happening before I’m pulled back against a hard, familiar body.
Royce.
Harleigh winks at me before twirling away.
His mouth brushes my ear. “You look like you’re having fun.”
My stomach flips. “Where did you come from?”
“Been watching you,” he says.
Of course he has.
Before I can come up with a suitably irritated response, he turns me in his arms and takes my hand.
The music shifts, and suddenly, he’s leading me into a two-step.
And, damn, the man can dance.
His hand settles at my waist, his other holding mine, and he moves like he was born knowing exactly how to handle a woman. One step, then another. A turn. A smooth pull back into his chest.
Before I know it, he’s commanding my body, guiding me around the dance floor with an ease that makes my pulse jump for reasons that have nothing to do with tequila.
I try to focus on my feet.
I fail.
Royce makes it impossible.
When the music changes, slowing into something softer, he pulls me closer. His mouth finds my ear, and he starts singing along with the band.
His voice is low and rough, vibrating against my skin.
I close my eyes.
This is dangerous. Because with every note, every step, every brush of his hand against my back, I can feel my walls coming down.
I shouldn’t let them.
I know better.
But tonight, with alcohol warming my blood and Royce holding me like I belong right here in his arms, knowing better feels a hell of a lot harder.
I lift my head. “You’re irritating me.”
Royce’s mouth curves. “No. I’m seducing you.”
I stare at him. “You call this seduction?”
“Yep.” He steps closer. “And that scares you.”
I snort. “I’m not afraid of you, Trust.”
“Really?” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Prove it.”
Before I can answer, his mouth crashes onto mine.
Hard.
Heat rushes through me, wiping every coherent thought from my head. My hands find his shirt, and his arms come around me as if he’s been waiting for permission.
I kiss him back. God help me, I kiss him back. His mouth moves against mine, and the moment our tongues meet, every coherent thought in my head goes up in smoke. My brain short-circuits, my knees instantly go weak, and the only thing keeping me upright is his arms around me.
The band keeps playing. People keep dancing around us. Somewhere, Harleigh is probably watching.
I don’t care.
For those few stolen seconds, there is only Royce.
Only his mouth and the way my body melts against his, like it remembers him.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathing hard.
“Royce,” I breathe.
His forehead rests against mine. “We need to finish this, Rina. Come to my cabin with me tonight.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “No. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I step back, trying to put some distance between us, but he doesn’t let me get far.
“You think just because you’ve charmed a dozen women into your bed, you can do the same with me?”
“A dozen?” He looks genuinely offended. “More like a gross.”
I blink. “A gross?”
“Yeah. Twelve dozen. Or a hundred forty-four, if my math is correct.” He pauses and grins. “Not my strong suit though.”
Despite myself, a laugh escapes me. “Neither is seduction.”
His grin turns wicked. “Well,” he says, his hand sliding around my waist and settling on my ass, “I seem to remember you being quite satisfied in my bed, darlin’.”
“Ugh. You are gross.” I bring my hands up to push against his chest.
He laughs. “Come on. It’s a joke.”
But the laughter fades, and something more serious settles over his face.
“I’m not the slut you think I am,” he says.
I look away. “Yeah, well, I’m not one either,” I mutter. “And I don’t do casual. That weekend in Dodge City was just a …”
I swallow.
“Just a what?”
I hesitate.
“It was …” I force myself to look at him. “I was having a bad night, and you were there when I needed someone.”
His eyes stay on mine.
“But I don’t make a habit of sleeping around,” I continue. “Sharing my body with someone isn’t something I do lightly.”
“Good,” he says.
I blink. “Good?”
His hand flexes against my backside. He tugs me more tightly against him and lowers his mouth to my hair.
“I’m a selfish man, Rina.” His voice is quiet against my ear. “I don’t like sharing.”
My heart stutters.
Before I can decide what to do with that, he releases me.
He adjusts his hat and gives me that maddeningly confident look. “And there was nothing casual about that weekend. I was wrecked when I woke up in that hotel alone. I’d thought it was the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?”
“Us.”
He walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor, staring after him, my pulse still hammering.
Because the worst part is, I know he’s right.
I took off that morning out of pure fear.
I had gone into that night telling myself it didn’t mean anything. That Royce Trust was just a man who happened to be there when I needed something—anything—to take my mind off the wreckage of my relationship with Blaze.
One reckless decision.
One night that turned into two.
Nothing more.
Except by Monday morning, I knew better.
Somewhere between the way Royce had held me and the way he’d looked at me, something had shifted. Something I hadn’t been prepared for.
I knew then and there that I could fall for him.
Hard.
Fast.
And that terrified the hell out of me.
So I made another rash decision, and I ran straight back to Blaze.
He talked me into giving us another chance, and I let him. Not because I thought we could fix what was broken, but because going back was familiar. Comfortable. Easier than admitting that a man I barely knew had gotten under my skin in a way Blaze never had.
I told myself I was making the right choice. Fighting for the relationship I’d already invested so much of myself in.
The truth was, I was choosing the life that didn’t scare me.
Because the last thing I needed was another reckless cowboy in my life—especially one I suspected wasn’t looking for anything more.