1. Dallas
DALLAS
ONE YEAR LATER
After I toss back another shot of vodka, my stomach starts to revolt.
I’m not twenty-one anymore. My tomboy friend Jo doesn’t make a face after finishing her shot and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I need to pee,” she says.
I nod, understanding she wants me to accompany her to the restroom. I hop off the stool and follow her through the dimly lit, packed bar.
She works here, but she got off her shift thirty minutes ago and immediately stole a bottle of vodka to share with me.
We’re celebrating.
My divorce was finalized earlier today. The twins are with their dad, and I’m kid-free and single for the weekend.
As soon as I told Jo I had divorce court today, she started pouring me shots and hasn’t stopped since. We make our way into the women’s restroom to find a couple of girls in line ahead of us.
One of them is Madi Wright, a girl I’ve heard of but never met.
Dolly, one of my other friends, told me she was always pretty and popular in high school.
She used to hook up with Dolly’s older brother, Holden Redford.
He’s now married to one of my good friends, Rosie.
So, by default, I have no desire to be friends with Madi.
She’s chatting with another girl about the live band onstage and how she had a fling with the lead singer over the summer, but now it’s totally over.
I do my business and wash my hands before walking out into the hallway to wait for Jo. I’m looking down at my phone when I bump right into someone’s hard chest.
“Sorry, I—” I glance up, my eyes landing on a man’s pearl-snap denim shirt.
The top three buttons are undone, revealing the smooth, chiseled chest underneath. My eyes continue traveling all the way up his large frame until I meet his cerulean blue eyes. He has a sly smirk on his lips, his Stetson tilted on his head.
“Darlin’, please don’t apologize for touching me ever again.”
Duke Justin Redford licks his lips, taking me in like he’s on death row and I’m his last meal. I inhale a sharp breath, taking a measured step back from him until I’m pressed up against the wall, my muscles tense. He smells so damn good, like leather and mint and thigh-shaking decisions.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just hanging out with a friend.”
Jo is the only person I’ve told that I finally went through with the divorce, besides my mom.
Even Rosie doesn’t know. Last time we talked about my marriage, I told her I was going to give it one more try with Matt.
That was two months ago. After being off and on so many times, I was embarrassed to keep telling her about it, especially with the divorce still pending with the court.
But now it’s really over—for good this time. I’ll never let him touch me again. The papers are signed and sealed by the judge, and my wedding ring is at the back of my underwear drawer.
I still feel numb about it.
“Special occasion?” he asks.
I don’t answer. Jo walks out of the restroom, her eyes shifting from mine to Duke’s.
“Hey, Jo,” he says.
“Hey,” she replies.
“Is it just you two tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms.
He could model for Wrangler. Or Cinch. Or any brand, of any kind.
Jo nods, glancing over at me. I purse my lips, wishing she hadn’t answered.
Duke has shamelessly flirted with me for the past two years since Rosie and I became friends, even when I wasn’t divorced yet.
He terrifies me to my very core because if Matt ever found out, only God knows how he would react.
My stomach feels queasy when I think about it.
I’ve forgotten how to speak to men even platonically because for the past five years, I haven’t allowed myself to, for my own safety.
But Duke flirts with everyone. He’s a fuckboy. As far as I know, he’s never been in a committed relationship. Even though he’s dripping in sex appeal and is my physical type down to a fucking T, I would never mess around with Duke Redford. My heart is already black and blue.
I went on one date with his older brother Sterling, who was a complete sweetheart. It was during the earlier days of my separation from Matt, and even though I had no reason to, I felt wrong for going on a date. I told him I wasn’t ready to be dating, and he was respectful and understanding.
Now that the divorce has officially been finalized, Duke feels even more dangerous to interact with than he did before.
His level of attractiveness is ungodly. From his dark hair to the hypnotic blue eyes, muscular shoulders, callous roper hands, and sensual smile, he makes me and every other woman between the ages of eighteen and eighty weak in the knees.
Even his voice drips with sensual undertones, like a velvet caress.
And I can’t be weak in the knees right now for a playboy who’s four years younger than me.
I’m a recently divorced single mom. I have shit to do, two hungry mouths to feed, and a truckload of trauma that a fun-loving guy like the youngest Redford brother wouldn’t have a clue what to do with.
Aside from this rare night of fun with Jo, I usually work as a bartender at Lucky’s Pub in Elmott when my boys are with their dad.
“Well, nice chatting with you, but we have—”
“Let me buy you a drink,” he interrupts, eyes steady on me, burning my skin.
I narrow my gaze at him. “We’re not going home with you, either of us.”
“I know that.” He claps a hand against his chest, feigning innocence.
“I’m closed for business. Jo has a boyfriend.”
He nods. “Cool. What are y’all drinking?” He starts turning back toward the bar. “Let’s just hang out, as friends.”
I roll my eyes.
As if Duke has ever met a female he wasn’t related to who he didn’t want to sleep with.
“I didn’t say—”
“Come on, Mamas. One drink. I promise not to flirt with you.” He winks, stepping closer to me.
I instinctively step back, heat prickling my skin. I turn to Jo. She shrugs, clearly indifferent about it. I wish she would back me up.
With a final eye roll to let him know I’m unaffected by his clear flirtation and panty-dropping charm, I start walking back toward the bar.
I can feel him a step behind me. When I turn toward where Jo and I were parked before, he gently touches my waist to guide me to a table a few yards to the left.
That isn’t hot. Stop it.
The heat of his fingers seeps through my thin shirt, and I try to control my breathing. Spending time around Duke still feels dangerous, like my body doesn’t know that Matt and I are divorced and he’s not here right now.
Duke’s hand moves away from my waist to pull out the wooden chair for me. I exhale, taking the seat. He pulls Jo’s chair out too.
“So, ladies, what are we feeling? Margaritas, green tea shots? What’s the vibe?” He grips the back of his chair, drumming his fingers over it in a way that makes my head spin, wondering what those fingers feel like.
This is bad. This is very bad.
I look at Jo. Her eyes drift from mine to his, then back to mine.
“Your call,” I say.
“Green tea shots,” Jo says.
Duke nods and heads for the bar.
“What’s happening?” Jo asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean … are you into him?”
“No! Of course not. I just got a divorce.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
She raises a dark brow. “I thought you wanted to get back up on the horse.”
“I’m perfectly fine on the ground, thank you.”
“Well, for the record, if you wanted to get over your divorce and push the gas pedal on the whole healing portion, I think a onetime thing would be the way to go.” She shrugs. “That’s what my aunt always says anyway. She got divorced three times—twice from the same guy.”
“That doesn’t sound like a glowing recommendation.”
My phone buzzes with a text. When I see my ex-mother-in-law’s number, I freeze. My heart pounds as I open the message.
Sandy
Dallas, I just want you to know we still care deeply about you, and you will always be the mother of our grandkids. We’re here to support you and Matt through this. Talk soon. Love you.
I exhale a deep sigh of relief. I was nervous about Sandy’s reaction, but I guess Matt hasn’t completely thrown me under the bus with his family. Yet.
Duke is heading back with a tray loaded down with nine green tea shots and two glasses of water. He sets it down on the table before handing each of us one.
“So, what are we toasting to?” He lifts one of the shots in the air.
“To Dallas getting back on the horse,” Jo blurts out.
Duke’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. He dips his hat in my direction. “To Dallas getting back on the horse.”
We clink our glasses together before tipping the rim of the glass over our lips and swallowing the green liquid. I slam it down on the table as heat flickers through my veins. Duke sets another shot in front of me and Jo.
“What about you, darlin’? What do you want to toast to?” he asks me.
“To people minding their own business.” I lift the shot toward both of them before downing it.
He chuckles, tossing the shot back. Jo rolls her eyes and takes hers too. Duke hands us each the third shot.
“My turn. I want to propose a toast to Dallas Hayes dancing with me to the next two-stepping song.”
“You can’t toast to that,” I argue.
He clinks his glass with mine and leans forward. “I just did.” He takes the shot before slamming the glass back down on the table.
Jo clinks her shot glass with mine and does the same.
I grit my teeth and hold it over the floor, making eye contact with him before pouring it out on the dirty bar floor.
His eyes widen slightly before he barks out a laugh.
He grabs a cloth napkin from the table and throws it over the green puddle.
“Okay then.” He leans down and wipes up the rest of the mess before setting the soiled napkin on the tray. “Don’t think that attitude is going to deter me, Dallas Hayes. I like a challenge.”
“Don’t think I care at all what you think, Duke Redford.”
He leans forward, eyes sparkling. “Dance with me.”
“No.”
“Why not? Are you that scared of getting close to me?”
I roll my eyes, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush crawling up my neck at his proximity and the way he called out my exact reasoning for not wanting to dance with him.
“I know this may come as a shock, but not every woman’s panties melt when you smile.”
I turn away from him, facing the stage. My phone buzzes with another text. I pull it out of the back pocket of my tight jeans.
Rosie
Hey, girl! Sorry, I know it’s late. I just wanted to let you know that Holden fell off his horse and hurt his wrist. He won’t be able to give the boys roping lessons.
But great news! Duke agreed to fill in. Don’t tell my husband I said so, but he’s actually a little better at the teaching side when it comes to roping.
He can make the same schedule work. Talk to you soon!
I stare at the screen, gnawing on my lower lip.
“She can’t dance,” Jo says casually.
I turn back around, glaring at my friend. She’s a deadpan, no-bullshit type of girl. She was raised by her father, the owner of the bar, Old Harry himself. I like her, but damn is she pissing me off tonight.
Duke’s shit-eating grin widens. “You’re shittin’ me. I can teach you. It’s all in the hips.” He rolls his hips obscenely.
Jo tosses her brown hair over her shoulder and shrugs. “She’s got two left feet. A lost cause on the dance floor.”
Duke steps around the table toward me. “Come on. Let me give you a lesson. I’m the reigning champ of the Swing Dance Showdown every spring. A little two-stepping tutorial will be fun. I could charge for this, you know.”
“She’s lying. I know how to dance.”
He lifts a dark brow, clearly thinking I’m the one who’s lying now. I glare at Jo. She did this on purpose because she knows how competitive I am. Rising to a challenge is not something I struggle with. I don’t back down easily.
Don’t give in. You don’t have to prove anything to him.
“Hayes, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. But dancing is an excellent way to relieve stress. After you learn to two-step, we can move on to swing. Swing dancing is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”
Jo is acting strangely interested in the live band that’s playing, leaving me to deal with explaining myself to Duke.
“I’m serious. I know how to dance. You’re not going to teach me anything, even if I did get up to dance with you.” I sit back against my chair, crossing my leg over the other one and folding my arms.
He steps closer, holds out a hand to me, and says the two words that I really, really wish I had the willpower to resist.
“Prove it.”