3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
River
“T his is the last place I want to be,” I mumble under my breath, adjusting my scrub top.
The only plan after opening night was to go home, slip on my fleece pajamas, and camp out on the couch. Then I met Joy. Seems like a sweet girl. She’ll be working with the horses for the season. Something I pitied her for until I got the call from Cecil, as I was shutting down the med room.
Then the only person I pitied was myself.
“River, I’m retiring. Be a doll and work the rodeo for the season.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Your grandma would tell you to help an old man.”
My teeth ground together, knowing Cecil threw the one card in my face that I would never go against.
“Fine. Anything I need to know?” I’d groaned, resolute that this would be my life through October, on top of my normal schedule and surgeries at University Hospital.
“Watch out for the Garrison boys. They’re a handful.”
I could only snort a laugh. It would have been a nice heads-up before coming face to face with a very pissed-off, very attractive Grayson Garrison. I mean fuck. Talk about making a woman’s panties wet with a scowl.
Music blares from the building as my sneakers crunch over the gravel parking lot. Reminders of Grayson’s rough hands in mine, activating muscles that have been asleep for quite some time. Looking from side to side, it’s nothing but goddamn pickup trucks. There’s a reason I left this bumpkin county a long time ago, but now I’m back. Seems the city life didn’t quite suit me, either.
Two cowboys in tight jeans that hug their sculpted thighs and butts saunter past me, tipping their hats before tugging the door open.
“Ma’am,” one of them smiles down at me. He removes that signature Stetson from his head with a little bow, ushering me in ahead of him. If only all men showed respect like this. Yet, my teeth grind again. I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.
“Thanks,” I smile wide, even though I don’t want to.
I feel just as out of place as I always do, walking into a honky tonk wearing black scrubs I would never wear unless I had to.
Post-rodeo regulars pack the bar, as expected. The riders and locals forever keeping the tradition alive of meeting in this historical place. Everyone who knows about the Boulder Ranch Rodeo knows the Thirsty Pony is the meeting spot afterward. No exceptions. No excuses.
I’m not one of them. At least, I wasn’t until Joy asked, and Cecil cornered me into being his replacement for the season. The need for a stiff drink after being coerced seemed necessary.
At least the view won’t be terrible.
Slipping onto an empty bar stool, I flag the bartender over. My eyes roam over the place absently while I wait. The wooden tables and chairs that are likely older than I am litter the space, full of chattering patrons. The table tops covered in empty beer bottles and liquor glasses.
The dance floor is full, too. Women in booty shorts and men stomping their cowboy boots to bass-heavy beats. I could never wear shorts like that. My genetic mix gave me what my mother refers to as a table-top-butt, so anything short isn’t for me.
“What’ll it be?” A hoarse voice draws my attention back behind the bar.
“Betty?”
“I’ll be damned. River Thompson. Beckett told me you were back in town, but I didn’t believe it. Once y’all become fancy city people, our dirt ain’t no good anymore.”
I can only laugh. Betty and Beckett Hughes went to school with me. Beckett and I even dated for about five minutes, but then I left for medical school and never came back. That is, until about a year ago.
“I’m not even sure how he knew, but good to see you. And I’ll have a whiskey neat.”
“Okay, now.” She swats me with a towel, that thousand-watt smile flashing my way.
I should have known I’d see her here. The Hughes family started in Cole County at least eight generations back and never left. None of them have.
Betty was a popular girl back in school. Every guy wanted her, but she only ever had eyes for the one person who never saw her. It’s a shame how often we can miss a good thing right in front of us. Then again, enough of an age gap will do that.
“Here ya go.”
“Thanks.” I raise the glass, immediately taking three large gulps before lowering it back to the counter. I’m going to need it to stomach tonight. Where the hell is this Joy girl, anyhow?
“You betcha.” The words trailing behind her as she scoots down to the other end of the bar, doling out drinks to thirsty cowboys and smiling women.
I’m three drinks in when the front door flies open, and the entire bar seems to go quiet. Looking around, I immediately spot Grayson and his brother, Tate. It’s clear the two have been bickering; same as they did all night. The rodeo is small when it comes to drama.
I can’t help but rake my eyes down Grayson’s tall but solid frame. Toned long legs. Veined forearms that peek out under the rolled-up sleeves of his plaid button-down. And that fucking hat flipped backward on his head with those thick curls swooping out at the bottom.
The place seems to freeze as the brothers continue walking side by side. They’re not speaking, but you can feel the tension radiating off them. Then Grayson’s eyes meet mine. His path adjusted to walk straight up to me.
Without a word, he slips onto the empty stool to my left, waving two fingers at Betty. She tips her head but doesn’t come to ask what he wants. No doubt, a man like him comes here often only to leave with a different girl on his arm each time.
“Well, someone knows how to make an entrance,” I smirk, taking another gulp of my drink.
“You noticed, didn’t you?”
I’m not sure what he means by that. Everyone noticed him and his brother walk in together. The two are almost carbon copies. Tate is just slightly taller, with slightly longer hair. A little more beard. A little more girth.
“Heard your hand held up tonight. Face still looks like shit, though.”
His hand opens atop the bar, closing around the beer bottle Betty slides down its length to him. I can only watch as his eyes stay focused on me, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and then down with his swallow.
“Hurts like a bitch, though.”
A snort leaves me. “Told you to go get an X-ray.”
His long fingers twirl the bottle in a tight circle. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
“I’m calling bullshit. I already know you’re going to ride tomorrow.”
“And you would let someone tell you ‘No, River. Don’t doctor tomorrow.’”
My brow scrunches low as I look over at him, suddenly feeling naked. It’s as if he pinpointed one of my greatest insecurities without trying.
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“Thought so,” he winks, taking another slug of his beer. “Let’s start over.”
Turning to face him, his knees spread, allowing my legs to sit between his. They don’t touch, but I swear I can feel the heat radiating off of him.
Stop it, River. He’s just a hot guy. Pull yourself together .
Extending my hand in his direction, I wait for him to take mine. A callused palm slides against my skin. His grip firm. Most men shake my hand as if they’ll shatter every bone. I’m a curvy girl, there’s no breaking me.
“Grayson Garrison. Or Gray, if you prefer.”
“Doctor River Thompson.”
He only snorts. “I already know you’re a doctor. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
My head cocks to the side, studying him. Is he a wizard? I swear he can see right through me.
“Right. Well, when you’re not punching walls or getting knocked out by your brother or riding those death animals, what do you do?”
“First off, Tate didn’t knock me out. Not even close.”
“You don’t have anything to prove to me either, Gray.”
Something flashes in his eyes as he sips his beer. The whiskey from my glass burning my throat down into my belly with my own swallow. But there’s a different burn there, too. One lower in response to the way this sexy-as-sin man is staring at me. No one has ever looked at me quite like that.
“I’m a vet tech.”
I nearly spit out my whiskey. Gray gives the impression of being the manliest man. Someone who drives tractors or builds whole houses with his bare hands. Not someone who cares for sick animals. “Um, that’s a surprise.”
“Why?”
“You don’t look the type.”
“And how many have said the same to you?” The muscles in my jaw tighten. Fuck this man and how he can see my every inner piece of self-doubt I’ve worked my ass off to hide.
“Favorite animal?” An innocuous question, but necessary. I feel like he’s undressing me in front of everyone, and it just makes me that much more uncomfortable.
“Goat.”
I let out a barking laugh just as Betty slides a fresh set of drinks in front of us. “Okay, Gray Garrison, tell me more.”
Time passes as I sit with Gray, talking about everything and nothing. Surprisingly, he’s charming. So different from the abrasive man I met earlier. On more than one occasion, his large palm finds my thigh, my legs still nestled between his. His touch sears me through the scrubs, and I find myself wishing he were touching my bare skin more than once.
My hand finds his chest as I lean forward, laughing at the ridiculous story he’s telling me about his cows breaking into his house, when a squeal sounds to my left.
“There you are!”
Joy, the girl from the rodeo, slides up next to me. “Hey, Grayson.”
“Hey,” he nods.
“Have you been sitting here the whole time?” Joy asks.
“Yup.” The P popped, thanks to the five or seven drinks I’ve had.
“Well, enough of that. Time to dance.” She yanks me from the stool, my knees knocking into the hard muscle of Gray’s thigh.
“Bye,” I wave before I’m shoved into a swarm of people, groaning.
This isn’t my thing.
I don’t know the steps.