Chapter 10
Tequila and Knuckle Sandwiches
Layla
What a day. Honestly? It was magical. Exhausting and hot and dusty and completely overwhelming in the best way. Cole watched me all day, I felt his eyes on me like he didn’t know how to look anywhere else. Like his attention kept snapping back to me no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
I don’t mind it. What I do mind is that I don’t think he’ll ever make a move.
And I’m horny. Horny as fuck. And I’m lonely.
That moment by the creek cracked something open in me, but it wasn’t enough.
It just reminded me how much I’ve been denying myself—how tired I am of almosts and maybes and men who hesitate when they shouldn’t.
I don’t want soft pecks or careful distance.
I want confidence. Heat. Someone who knows how to take control without asking permission every step of the way.
I don’t need romance. I don’t need promises.
I need someone who won’t get feelings involved, someone who shows up, does the job, and doesn’t pretend it’s anything more than what it is.
Because I can’t get feelings involved. I won’t.
I’ll be back in Seattle by fall, and I can’t be worrying about emotions and love and all that bullshit.
That kind of stuff just gets you hurt and I’ve already learned that lesson once.
Three weeks. That’s all it’s been since I got here, and being this close to Cole every day has me wound tight. A girl has needs. And tonight? I fully intend to meet mine.
Hopefully with a few drinks, some dancing, and a cowboy who finally stops pretending he doesn’t want me just as bad as I want him.
The barbecue smells incredible. Smoke hangs in the air, thick and mouthwatering, and my stomach growls loud enough to embarrass me. I grab a plate and pile it high, pulled pork, baked beans, potato salad, and some little hot dogs swimming in a sauce I don’t recognize but absolutely plan to destroy.
I sit down next to Maggie at the long table. It’s packed, ranch hands I recognize from my morning walks, people laughing, clinking beers, the easy hum of a place that knows how to come together.
“So good,” I say out loud after my first bite.
Sweet tea washes it down, cold and perfect.
“I could honestly get used to this,” I add.
Cole scoffs from across the table.
Maggie bumps her arm into mine. “You excited for a night out?” she asks.
“Oh yeah, girl,” I say, laughing. “I’m ready to dance, get drunk, maybe bounce on a sexy cowboy. A girl has needs.”
Maggie shrieks. “Oh my god, Layla has some freak in her!”
I grin. No shame. None at all.
“Where are y’all going?” Cole asks, pulling out the chair in front of me and sitting down.
“Cotton Eye’s,” Maggie says. “You coming, big bro?”
I keep my face neutral even though my pulse jumps. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly I want him there. How badly I want him inside me. Be strong Layla. But, If he doesn’t make a move tonight, then I might just do it. I’m done waiting.
He looks me dead in the eye. Holds it. Then says, “Yeah. I think I’ll tag along.”
My stomach flips.
“Great!” Maggie says. “You can drive.” She stands up, clapping her hands. “Let’s leave in twenty. I’m ready to get drunk!”
She turns and shouts, “Everyone! We’re headed to Cotton Eye’s after dinner! Let’s party! First round on me!”
The ranch hands cheer, hooting and laughing. They deserve it. They work hard. Tonight is about letting loose.
And me?
Tonight, I’m done pretending I don’t want Cole Marshall. Because I do. At least for one night. And if he won’t stop looking at me like that, like I’m already under his skin, then I’m going to make him deal with it.
After everyone’s finished up dinner, we all start to load into trucks one by one. Maggie, Cole, and I walk toward Cole’s pickup, and the second I see it, my stomach flips.
Bench seat. Of course, I remember.
Maggie opens the passenger-side door and holds it open for me, totally casual, like this isn’t about to ruin my night.
“After you.”
I hesitate for half a second too long.
Then I climb in.
The second I sit, I realize there is no graceful way to exist here. I end up right in the middle, knees angled forward, hips settling into the worn leather seat. Before I can adjust, Maggie hops in beside me and shuts the door, the sound loud in the cab.
I’m trapped. My thighs press fully against Cole’s. Not a brush. Not accidental. Full contact. Heat. Muscle. Solid.
I freeze for a beat, pretending this is normal, pretending I don’t feel how firm his leg is against mine. My thighs are big, soft, and there’s nowhere to move without basically climbing into his lap.
So I stay still. I see his eyes drop immediately. Straight to my thighs. The look is hungry.
It’s been so long since I’ve been touched in that way, I’d do anything for him to just squeeze them right now. Just once. The tension is there, it’s there. Thick. Heavy. Like the air itself is charged. I’m not crazy. Whether he wants to admit it or act on it, it exists.
Our eyes meet for half a second. Then he looks away. I see him take a deep inhale, chest rising under that button-down like he’s bracing himself. Like he’s reminding himself where he is. Who he is.
I smile and look down, pretending my pulse isn’t suddenly loud in my ears.
“I’m so excited,” Maggie says lightly, breaking the silence. “Aren’t you? I can’t wait to find you a hot cowboy.”
I laugh. “I can’t wait either.”
“I just want to have drinks and dance,” I add, laughing with her, forcing myself to sound casual while my body feels anything but.
A country song comes on the radio, one I’ve grown to love since being here and I turn it up. Maggie starts singing along, loud and off-key. I join in, letting the noise fill the cab.
Cole exhales sharply through his nose.
The truck rumbles down the road, and every bump presses me closer to him. Every turn makes my thigh slide just enough to remind me he’s right there. Steady. Warm. Unmoving.
And the thing is? He never once pulls away.
We pull into the gravel lot, neon lights buzzing overhead, blue and red glowing against the dark.
COTTON EYES.
The second we step inside, the smell hits me. Beer. Sweat. Perfume. Heat. The bass thumps through the floor and straight up my legs. The floor is sticky under my boots and honestly? I love it. We don’t have bars like this in Seattle.
Maggie and I go straight to the bar. Tequila shots line up in front of us. One turns into two, then three. The burn slides down my throat and settles low in my belly, loosening everything.
We hit the dance floor.
Cole drifts toward the corner with some guys shooting pool, but I can feel his eyes on me before I even look. When I do, he’s already watching. Not casual. Not curious. Focused.
I let my body move slower. Deeper. Let my hips roll with the beat. Let my confidence take over. Mostly because I know he’s watching.
After a while, Maggie leans in. “See anything you like?”
“A few,” I say honestly.
“I see something I want.” She nods behind me.
I turn and spot a dark-haired, pretty girl dancing nearby — and oh.
Oh my god.
Maggie’s gay.
I grin. “Go get her.”
She’s gone in seconds, leaving me alone with my drink and the music and the heat crawling up my spine. I feel good. Loose. Wanted.
Then I look up. Cole’s eyes are locked on me. Chris Stapleton plays in the background. And our eyes connect and neither of us looks away. I let my body move a little slower, a little sexier, swaying my hips deliberately.
For him. His jaw tightens. Power hums through me. Then—
“Hey there.”
A voice at my ear.
I turn to see a tall, dark-haired man with an easy smile.
“Well, hello,” I say.
His hands settle on my hips and we start to dance. It’s easy. Comfortable. Familiar in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“What’s your name, honey?”
“Layla.”
He says it slow. “Layla.”
We two-step, talk, grind. His body fits well against mine. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. Cole’s been staring like he wants to kill someone the entire time.
The man’s name is Jake.
I could fuck Jake. Let him do me how I imagine a cowboy would.
I’ve never had one before, but I wouldn’t mind letting him be my first. But he’s not really what my heart wants.
What I want. But I'll take it because I need to feel something.
And the fact that Cole is watching every second? It sends lightning through me.
I catch Maggie’s eye across the room. She’s grinning, flicking her gaze toward Cole.
I know, I mouth back.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Jake asks.
“You staying at the Marshall property, right?”
“I am,” I say. “And yes I am.”
I grab Jake’s hand and head for the door, heart pounding, adrenaline buzzing through me. And I don’t turn around. But I have a feeling, Cole Marshall isn’t going to let this end quietly.
When we get outside, Jake’s arm slides around me like he owns the space. The night air is cooler, the music muffled behind us, gravel crunching under our feet as he steers me toward his truck.
I tell myself it’s fine. I tell myself this is what I wanted.
When we reach his truck, he turns fast and presses me back against the door. The metal is cold against my spine. This isn’t what I expected. His attitude feels sharper now, heavier. I get a weird gut feeling.
“Do you like it rough, baby?” he asks.
That’s when my stomach tightens.
“Maybe not on the first night,” I say, trying to keep it light.
Keep smiling Layla. Keep it light and fun.
His hand moves anyway. Slow. Deliberate. Sliding up my thigh until his grip tightens on me through my jean shorts. My body stiffens before my mouth catches up.
That’s it.
I push against his chest. “No. I think I’ve changed my mind.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve changed my mind,” I say again. “I’m just a little drunk. I think I’m gonna go back.”
I try to move away. He slams me back against the truck. My breath knocks out of me. The metal bites into my spine.
“No,” I say. Louder now. “I said no.”
His hand comes up to my face and he kisses me hard, all mouth and tongue, ignoring me as I shove at his chest, turning my head, trying to get away. This isn’t happening. This guy is bad news.
“No,” I say again. “I mean it. No.”
Then—
Jake is gone.
One second he’s on me, the next he’s hitting the gravel with a sound that makes the whole parking lot go quiet.
Cole’s fist is still clenched.
“What the fuck?” I gasp, staring at him. “Cole, what are you doing?”
“You told him no,” Cole says, voice low and dangerous. “He didn’t listen, so he got hit.”
He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t even step closer.
“I know I did,” I snap. My hands are shaking. “And I didn’t need you to defend me. I’m not your property.”
I turn away from him, my chest tight, adrenaline crashing hard. I’m furious and shaken. Why is he protecting me if he can’t even stand me?
Maggie comes running out of the bar, eyes wide. “Oh come on, man. This was supposed to be a fun night. Why are you punching people?”
“Layla said no, he kept pushing so he got hit.” Cole says again, like that’s the only explanation that matters.
“Goddammit, Cole,” Maggie mutters.
I look at him then. Really look at him. Everyone’s staring. The parking lot feels too small. Phones out. Waiting.
“Just take me back to the house,” I say quietly. “Please.”
Maggie steps closer. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No,” I say, forcing a tired smile. “You have fun, girl. I’m just… I’m done for the night.”
She nods, reading everything I’m not saying.
I walk toward Cole’s truck without another word, climb in, and slam the door shut harder than I needed to.