Chapter 31
Outlaw State of Mind - Chris Stapleton
Kinsley
W e walked into the bar, greeted by the sight of Grady centre stage, with a bachelorette party, teaching them how to conquer the mechanical bull. They were all fawning over him, even the bride.
Finding Finn and Grace at a nearby table, it was clear they had settled in. Finn nursed a beer while Grace played absentmindedly with her straw in an empty glass.
“Looks like we have some catching up to do.” I noted the collection of glasses as we joined them.
Wyatt’s arm was around my waist, an action that didn’t escape Grace’s notice.
“I need alcohol to endure that,” Finn commented, nodding towards Grady’s spectacle. “Those girls must be really drunk.”
Wyatt chuckled in agreement behind me.
“You guys are joking, right?” I couldn’t help but challenge their amused detachment.
“What do you mean?” Finn looked puzzled.
“Grady is more popular with the female population than the two of you combined,” I explained. “There are racers with his picture in their tack trunks. The buckle bunnies adore him.”
“It’s a bull rider thing,” Wyatt said.
“It’s more a ‘he’s gorgeous and has a panty-dropping smile’ factor,” I countered, earning a mumbled agreement and a hiccup from Grace.
Her reaction drew our attention, but she just giggled into her drink.
“See?” My laughter echoed Grace’s, drawing a connection between us over the absurdity.
“Okay, so where does Rhett fit into this?” Finn was curious, stirring the conversation.
“Everyone and their grandma has had a crush on Rhett Parker at some point,” I admitted, causing Wyatt to raise an eyebrow in my direction. “It’s practically a rite of passage. He’s the perfect mix between rugged cowboy and Prince Charming. But don’t worry; you’re both plenty handsome.” I patted Wyatt’s cheek. Inside, I was laughing at their pouty faces.
Both guys were hot as fuck, and girls were always drooling over the two intense dark-haired cowboys, but a little humility never hurt.
Wyatt scanned the room, his demeanour shifting. Grace pointed out an older man in the corner. Recognition and distaste mingled in Wyatt's visceral reaction.
“Mark Dwyer,” she identified. “Your dad used to drink with him a lot.”
Wyatt nodded. “Yeah, I remember him.” He scowled in disgust, lifted his hat from his head, and ran his hand through his hair. He was tense. Whoever this guy was, Wyatt did not want to talk to him.
“Want me to come with you?” I asked him.
Wyatt shook his head. “That’s the last guy I want you exposed to.”
“I can come.” Finn stood up.
“No, if both of us go over there, he’ll feel threatened and won’t talk. Stay with the girls.”
“Yeah, come twirl us around the floor, Finn.” I tried to ease the tension in the air.
“I don’t dance.”
“Well then, you need another drink,” I said. “Grace? Another one?”
“Yes, please,” she said almost too loudly.
After Wyatt had expressed himself so … passionately in the parking lot, I was feeling sorry for Grace. It wasn’t easy to get over Wyatt Collins. Impossible, actually.
“I’ll get the drinks,” Finn said. “What will it be, Kins?”
“Whatever she’s having.” I pointed to Grace’s empty glasses.
She frowned. “I don’t remember what it was.”
“I got it.” Finn headed off towards the bar.
I sat down with Grace. “So, Finn mentioned earlier that you used to barrel race?”
Her gaze met mine, and she nodded. “Yeah, back in high school. Not at your level. I’ve heard of you; you’re really good.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at her, and after a moment, she smiled too. I was about to say more, but Wyatt’s form moving through the crowd caught my attention.
As Wyatt approached the man at the bar, there was immediate tension. The man, upon seeing Wyatt, stood up as if ready to bolt, but something Wyatt said made him sit back down, albeit reluctantly. Wyatt then signalled for the bartender to bring another beer for the man, who drowned his worries in the drink while stealing wary glances at Wyatt.
“So, who is this guy?” I asked Grace.
“Local lowlife. He was always dragging Jake into trouble, gambling and whatnot,” she explained.
My gaze remained fixed on Wyatt, who was showing signs of agitation.
Suddenly, Wyatt’s chair clattered to the floor as he stood up, the sound echoing through the bar. He grabbed the man, Mark, by his shirt, pulling him to his feet. The crowd that had gathered around them blocked my view, but I heard enough to know it was bad.
“Finn!” I called out, though I saw him already making his way through the crowd toward the commotion.
Grady was approaching from another direction. I tried to follow, but the crowd hindered any forward progress, their bodies creating a barrier I couldn’t get through.
The music had stopped, replaced by shouts and the crashing of bottles and glasses. By the time I got closer, Finn had already intervened, pulling Wyatt away from Mark. Wyatt’s body was rigid with anger, his fists still clenched, and a trickle of blood ran down from his nose, which he wiped away. Finn was speaking to him in hushed tones, trying to diffuse his fury.
Watching Finn’s ability to calm Wyatt stirred a twinge of jealousy in me; I wished I could be that for him.
Grady and I reached them, relief clear on Grady’s face that the fight was over.
“Are you okay?” I asked Wyatt, but my concern went unnoticed.
Mark was slowly getting up, grimacing with pain, unaided and ignored by everyone. Wyatt’s glare was unwavering.
“Shit,” Finn muttered, eyeing the entrance as two police officers made their way in.
They assessed the situation, consulting the bartender, who recounted the events. Wyatt remained stoic, his arms crossed defiantly, making Mark shrink back in fear.
In moments like these, I wished Wyatt’s stubbornness would give way to reason.
He didn’t resist as the officers handcuffed him and led him outside. Another patrol car arrived shortly after, and we looked on as Mark was also arrested.
“Well…” Finn broke the heavy silence that had fallen over us. “Let’s go get him.”