Chapter 19
Colette dropped into the chair across from Marshall, breathing heavily with her skin dusted a delicate pink from dancing.
She sipped the fresh beer she had grabbed at the bar after dancing with Evan.
Never mind that he had watched every step she made surreptitiously from under the brim of his hat.
That was neither here nor there. She left the dance floor with a warm smile and a sway in her step, which left Marshall no illusions as to what was happening.
Evan was interested in Colette, and if her bright eyes and flushed cheeks were any indication, she was reciprocating.
Her gaze traveled to Marshall and her mouth flattened.
Ouch.
As if he needed the reminder that she was out of his league. Marshall leaned over his beer, chatting with Roger about ranch business, the fences that kept needing repairs. The new electric fencing they were going to introduce was kind of exciting, if one was into that kind of thing.
And Marshall definitely was.
Roger promised to help test it out the next day.
The announcer, Jerry, declared that karaoke would be starting up soon. People started walking up to him, writing their songs on a sheet of paper. Colette’s head turned, her eyes searching the crowd for someone.
Evan.
His heart sank as she straightened in her seat to see if his best friend was signing up for karaoke. Shrugging, she turned back to her drink, facing him once again.
“It’s happening,” Simone said, seated next to Marshall, her jaw clenched.
“Yup,” Marshall replied, taking a swig of his beer. “Happens every time.”
“There’s nothing that can be done for it,” Roger added.
The mic shrieked as Evan came up on the stage. They waited for the feedback to stop, and the crowd clapped. Colette cheered.
Marshall fumed.
A few guys from somewhere in the bar shouted “boo,” and Evan waved them away with a chuckle. He waved to a table of women who shouted out his nickname, a joke that started in his teens, Pookie. Evan blushed.
No wonder women loved him. Evan was so darn cute.
Marshall scoffed.
“If only someone would tell him,” Simone said with a disappointed sigh.
Marshall tipped his glass back and swallowed another mouthful of ale. “I told him. I literally asked him to stop,” he grumbled. “It’s just his favorite song and no one can talk him out of it.”
“What are we talking about?” Colette said with a smirk, that second beer making her a little giddy.
“Evan,” Simone explained.
The way Colette’s face warmed brought a scowl to Marshall’s face.
He schooled his features into a more pleasant expression.
After all, he was happy-go-lucky Marshall, not grumpy scowling Marshall.
And he had zero interest in starting anything with Colette.
He hoped she and Evan would be very happy together.
He tapped the solid wood table nervously with his knuckle.
Simone pointed to where Evan was indicating a song on the karaoke song list. “He always sings the same song, and it’s a real power ballad, but like, not the vibe of The Dusty Spur, you know?”
Colette nodded and sipped her beer, her gaze moving in Evan’s direction.
“He told me the crowd loves it,” Colette explained.
The trio at her table groaned.
“Of course he would say that,” Marshall grumbled. “Evan can be clueless sometimes.”
There was no reason for Marshall to fill with seething rage as Colette watched his best friend, but he did.
It was for the best if she set her sights on someone other than him.
He hadn’t offered her any encouragement, and it went against his work policies.
Or at least the ones he had in his head.
No one has ever actually written down rules for relationships between ranch staff. It had never come up.
Colette was off limits as a co-worker, but he could lust after her as much as he pleased.
Well, unless she became Evan’s girl. Then she would be off-limits for real.
Was that truly what he wanted? He cupped his hands around his mouth and closed his eyes.
He needed grounding. Colette had unleashed this beast within him, and he was spiraling out of control.
Jealousy?
He’d never met the green-eyed monster.
Until she had walked into his life.
Unbridled fantasies?
They were getting out of control.
Marshall was thankful his friend was taking her off his hands.
Then maybe the awkward pining would stop.
His hand came down to wrap around the condensation-laden pint glass before him.
Nope. He would behave like the gentleman that he was.
Colette was a free woman, totally single, and if she chose to carry on with Evan, that was her choice.
Marshall had never chased after a woman.
He could certainly make a play for Colette if he wanted to.
But he absolutely did not.
He shook his head, returning to the conversation, or rather, the reality of watching Evan clearing his throat on stage when his song was announced. Roger began to boo at him, and Marshall joined with his own “Get off the stage!”
Evan laughed and waved a hand at them. A few tables of women near the stage yelled out his name, and Evan placed a dramatic hand on his chest, a celebrity thankful for his audience.
The familiar sounds of “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling” began to strum over the speakers and the crowd hushed, except for that one lady who was cheering him on with loud hoots and shouting “we love you, Pookie” at repeated intervals.
By now, having heard Evan perform this song multiple times, on many a karaoke night, Marshall was familiar with his ability to sing it well. Evan wooed the crowd with his charm.
So what?
Marshall had charm.
Charm that had led him down a road where he never wanted to return.
Playboy Marshall wasn’t someone he wanted to be again.
He studied the back of Colette’s head, wondering what she was thinking. Was she smiling her glossy cherry smile at Evan, completely enraptured? He sighed and swirled his glass on the table. Maybe he should just leave. More beer would not make things more fun.
“He’s really good,” Colette shouted to Simone over the din of the crowd.
“Yeah, it’s good the first time you see it, but the seventh? The fifteenth?” Simone shrugged, leaned back in her chair, and reached a hand to capture Roger’s. “Then it gets tired.”
His eyes tracked the subtle movement, how she rubbed her thumb back and forth.
Roger sent her a small smile, one that Marshall knew all too well.
The look of love. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to have a woman look at him like that.
A glance that would warm his face and make his mouth curve automatically. Completely irresistible.
He turned his head to give the couple privacy and clapped as Evan finished his performance with a flourish and a dramatic bow.
He rolled his eyes. Evan’s easy-going and fun nature was what drew him, but Marshall feared it would also draw in another person he was feeling a certain way about. Not that he would ever admit it.
Because Colette was temporary. They could have fun if Marshall could get past the fact that she was a ranch employee. But there was always the risk that she would love him and leave him.
His new accountant had been clear about the temporary nature of the job.
Her future was in the city, where she belonged.
He’d had enough women use him, and he had enjoyed his fair share of using them.
When he escaped to the ranch, he told himself no more. The occasional relationship with a woman to slake his lust, yes. Those were fun but never seemed to last.
Marshall was at the point where he wanted more. Or nothing.
So, he would tough it out. Keep his hands off Colette, just as his brother asked.
Stay away.
Regardless of how good she looked in that tight denim skirt and how that adorable scoop neck shirt offered him a tantalizing glimpse of the curve of her bosom. Was that a hint of lace peeking from under there? His curiosity had been engaged the moment she entered the bar.
Then quickly suppressed.
His eyes caught on Evan as he strolled back to the table, his friend delighted at the results of his romantic wooing of all the women in the bar.
“Marshall, you’re next,” Evan said, dropping into a chair next to him and wiping his brow with his sleeve. “I set up your song for you.”
Marshall’s jaw dropped as Colette turned back to the table, her mouth opening in a happy gasp. If he could have murdered Evan with a scowl, his friend would be dead.
“What is your song?” she asked, lips curving around the rim of her beer glass. Fuck, she was so damn luscious he could barely take his eyes off her as she took a sip.
Marshall waved the question away and shook his head. “I don’t have a song.”
Evan chuckled and slapped Marshall on the back. “Buddy, you’re being modest.” Evan turned to Colette. “He totally has a song.”
Colette placed a hand over her mouth to cover a giggle.
“I need to know it!” she said, eyes wide with delight. “Do it for me, Marshall.”
His stomach flopped.
Simone shook her head. “Here we go…” she said, taking a sip of her vodka soda with a saucy grin. “Do it, Marshall. You can’t say no to that face, can you?”
Marshall cleared his throat and grumbled a curse under his breath, then pushed up to standing. He glanced at Colette.
It was impossible to say no to those beautiful eyes so wide with hope.
Fuck Evan. Marshall would go sing while Evan made a move on Colette? Maybe it was best if he didn’t watch the courtship unfold. It was making him a little sick.
Making his way to the stage, he knocked Evan’s cowboy hat on the ground as he passed. That would serve him right. Evan guffawed as he went to pick up his hat, and Marshall brusquely grabbed the mic from the karaoke DJ, who had just announced his name.
Chills ran through his body. It would be fine as long as he kept his eyes away from her.
The woman who made every word in the song ring true.
He tapped his boot on the floor as the steady beat of “I’m On Fire” by Bruce Springsteen began.
Thankfully, it was a short song, so he would be done quickly.
His voice was scratchy at first. He wasn’t used to singing karaoke as well as Evan, who tortured them with the same damn song every time. Marshall was out of practice.
He liked Bruce Springsteen because his voice was a little rough, just like Marshall’s, and the words of the song were repetitive and easy.
Nothing else about his night had been easy so far.
He identified with the struggle and the lust in the lyrics.
The words were always hot, but tonight, as his eyes briefly locked with a pair of blue eyes across the bar, it hit different.
A disturbing rush of warmth spread across his face, and he turned to focus on a table of rowdy women who were cheering him on.
Yes, best to keep his eyes away from Colette.
Her gaze was entrancing. Too captivating.
It would not do to be seen blushing from a mere locking of their eyes.
So, he blew a kiss and waved to the lusty ladies in front, one of whom caught the kiss and sighed, enamored.
His hand gripped the microphone as the song ended, and he did everything in his power not to look at the cherry-red lips and the hands covering her mouth in glee.
Damn it.
He blushed again.
Colette stood to clap enthusiastically when his song ended, and Marshall’s stomach flopped. Her joy teased a small smile from his lips, and his chest suddenly felt lighter. Was he proud? Proud of having impressed Colette? Lord help him. He was preening like a peacock.
He handed over the mic as though it was on fire and ambled back to the table to cradle his beer once again.
Marshall was in big trouble.
Teetering dangerously on the brink of doing something stupid.
He was on fire.
Colette Slip was the only one who could put it out.