19. Duke
DUKE
Iwas enjoying the night with my brothers and their wives and fiancées until now.
Briggs Crawford is a good-looking motherfucker, and he just won first place in bull riding. We stroll past him as a group. I’m walking with Holden, and Dallas is up ahead with her arm looped through Rosie’s.
I see Briggs the moment his eyes lock on to Dallas.
A shit-eating grin cuts across his face when he calls out to her, “Hey, Purple, that ride change your mind any?”
Purple? What a dumbass nickname.
I can’t see Dallas’s face, but she says something and pauses beside him, tilting her head. Briggs takes a step toward her, adjusting his cowboy hat. My instincts scream at me to jump between them, but I quickly remind myself that she’s not mine.
Not even a little bit.
My pulse skyrockets when he leans toward her.
He looks down at her with a practiced grin, like he’s God’s gift to the female population.
His white teeth gleam in contrast with his tanned skin and dark tattoos.
I want to feel his sharp jawline under my knuckles, preferably after my boot has split open his rib cage.
“Change your mind yet? I’m having a party at my hotel tonight.”
There’s a horde of female fans clamoring to get his attention behind him.
She flips her blond hair over her shoulder before crossing her arms. “That depends. Can I bring friends?”
He looks around at us before leaning even closer to her. “Only got room for a few ladies. Small space.”
She opens her mouth to answer, but I don’t have it in me to wait on her.
I step forward, bucking up to him. We’re about the same size.
“No,” is all I say, setting my jaw. My fist is clenched at my side.
His eyes narrow on mine. “Redford?”
How the fuck does he know my name?
He smiles wider when I just stare at him in confusion.
“My manager said they reached out to you, but you turned the opportunity down.”
I shrug. “Don’t see what that has to do with you hitting on my girl.”
I hear a female gasp from behind me. Dallas steps into my peripheral vision, but I keep my eyes on Briggs.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Did I hit on your girl? Didn’t see a ring.” He looks down at Dallas, and he fucking winks.
Sam steps up beside me, clearly waiting to see how I’m going to handle this and support me as needed.
I know it’s wrong. I know he couldn’t have known that she’s mine. I know I shouldn’t do it.
But I just fucking want to hit him.
So, I do.
I shove my beer into Sam’s hands before I pop my knuckles and rear back, throwing a punch straight into Briggs’s face. When I make contact with his jaw, pain shoots up my hand. Dallas screams from beside me.
Briggs rights himself, shaking his head and smiling as blood drips from his mouth.
His expression of shock and amusement reminds me of myself. Anytime another woman has been the object of my flirtation and attention and a man or even one of my brothers has been pissed off at me for hitting on her, I was the one in Briggs’s shoes.
He returns the punch, grazing the side of my jaw.
“Man, you’re sensitive. She never said yes!” He’s laughing as he says it, and all it does is anger me.
I glance around at my brothers, who are all watching with various levels of smirks on their faces.
Great. They’re enjoying this shit.
I grip his shirt, jerking him toward me. “What did you say?”
“She never said she was coming over. Probably because you’re cockblocking her.” He looks over at Dallas.
“Don’t look at her. Look at me.” I grab his shoulders and slam my head down into his.
He stumbles back, groaning in pain. “Fuck!”
He shoves me off him and takes a step back. That’s when I realize we’ve drawn a crowd of bystanders around us, all watching the show.
He raises his hands. “I didn’t realize she was taken, all right? We’re good here.” He rubs the back of his hand over his bleeding jaw. “I’ve got a photo shoot tomorrow, man.”
He turns away, back toward the crowd of bystanders. He’s immediately swarmed by three women, all cooing over his wounds.
When I slowly turn toward Dallas, her face is pale. She gnaws on her lower lip as I approach.
“Are you okay?”
“Are you?” Her gaze trails over me, her expression unreadable.
“Yeah. I’m good.” I rub my hand over her arm, needing to touch her. It falls down near her hand, and I’m surprised when she interlaces her fingers with mine. Holding her hand makes me feel like a teenager again.
A smile ghosts across her lips. “You just punched a celebrity for hitting on me.”
I search her eyes, relief coursing through me when I see that she’s not mad at me.
“Yeah, well, you were thinking about going to his hotel for a party.”
She blinks at me innocently. “I never said yes.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“Well, you said it yourself. I’m not your girlfriend. This is … nothing. We’re just friends.”
I look down at her, seeing the flash of vulnerability in her eyes.
I remember the reckless abandon I felt in her touch last night when we had sex in the alley.
The conversation I had with Dolly and Rosie about leaving her alone, letting her heal and enjoy her single life while navigating motherhood alone, has been at the forefront of my mind.
“I meant it. We are friends. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist the chance to hit that guy.”
Her smile fades. It makes my stomach hurt. I don’t want her to feel like she’s not good enough for me or that I don’t want to be with her.
But I know, in my heart of hearts, she’s not ready for this.
She’s not ready to commit to me while the ink on her divorce papers has barely dried. She’s not ready to be locked down in another exclusive relationship when she’s still healing from the trauma she gained in the last one.
And even though it’s painful for me, I know it’s what’s best for her.
After the rodeo weekend, I open up my schedule to start teaching more roping lessons to kids after school. Holden and I take turns running the ranch hands out to assess new calves, mend fences, and cut the steers before taking them to the sale barn.
Ranch work is rigorous and never-ending. I love every minute of it.
I start going out again, mostly to Old Harry’s since it’s closer to home, but occasionally, I go see Dallas at Lucky’s Pub.
We don’t discuss the rodeo weekend at all. We’re polite to each other, and we both seem to have accepted that our relationship is going to stay just as it is—friends. Good friends. And neighbors.
I know she’s healing. And I don’t want to get in the way of that.
I’m sitting at Lucky’s Pub a few weeks later, nursing a beer, when a gray-haired man I’ve seen hitting on her here before walks up and orders himself a beer.
Here we go again. I sit up straighter.
My self-control can never be lax around Dallas, especially when men are on the prowl, which is basically always. The man smiles at her, adjusting his baseball hat.
“We’ve had some crazy weather here lately. The storms have slowed things down on the rig.”
She smiles warmly at him. “Hi, Scott. I bet it’s scary out there during storms like this.”
It’s a busy Saturday night. I know it’s her last night without the boys.
Dawson and Dutton will be back with her tomorrow, and then they’ll be sleeping soundly in the bunkhouse with Eden when she comes back to work on Wednesday.
Dallas always has an empty look in her eyes and a smile plastered on her face when they’re with Matt.
Thunder cracks outside, loud enough to be heard over the acoustic band playing.
“You working next weekend?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m working Friday night and a double on Saturday.”
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to work that much.”
Don’t hurt him, Duke. That would be abuse of the elderly, and you’re better than that.
I tighten my hand around the beer mug.
“Still waiting on my Prince Charming.”
“You did promise me a date, I seem to remember.”
She laughs. “Was that you?”
“Sure was. What about lunch? I’ll come to your neck of the woods.”
I hold my breath, feigning disinterest. A woman comes up beside me, slipping her hand inside my elbow.
“Duke, I haven’t seen you in forever! Dance with me?”
Before turning toward the familiar voice of Madi Wright, I watch Dallas’s reaction. Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t look at us.
“I think I’d love that actually. Lunch sounds nice.”
I know her well enough to know now that her tone is clipped and forced. An easy smile touches my lips. I finish off my beer and slide the mug across the counter.
“Sure, let’s line dance. I need to practice.”
Madi squeals. I’ve never actually slept with Madi. She’s had sex with my oldest brother, Holden, and probably Cash and Sterling too. There’s no telling with her. She views us like passport stamps, collectibles she can brag about around town.
“Practice for what?” she asks.
I go up to the DJ booth. “Hey, Ethan. Can we get some line dancing going? Start with ‘Cotton Eye Joe.’ Keep ’em coming.”
He nods, cueing up the song. I walk back over to Madi, resisting the urge to see if Dallas is still watching.
“I’m in the Spring Showdown at Old Harry’s.”
The music starts playing through the speakers.
I kick my feet in time with the beat, dancing in the line of drunk idiots who know the steps by heart.
Madi is across from me, grinning widely.
I remember, once upon a time, hoping I’d one day get the chance to be with her before I realized she had an agenda to sleep with all my brothers.
She grabs my hand, and I spin her around even though it’s not really a part of the steps. She laughs and falls into me, brushing her oversize, silicone breasts up against my chest.
I help her stand up straight. The song ends, so we wait for the next one.
I dance with Madi for the next two songs before Delilah takes her place.
I had a fling with her for a few months before moving on when I found out she was still off and on again with her ex.
She has a leg and arm sleeve tattoo, and last I heard, she was back with her baby daddy, who tried to fight me when he found out we’d slept together.
It was funny to me at the time, but after what happened at the rodeo, I’m looking at it in a different light.
With Delilah, there’s no telling if she’s single or with him right now. But we’re only dancing, so surely, he wouldn’t care. I still need to find a partner for the showdown in a few months.
“I forgot you were a damn good dancer,” she says after I dip her down and flip her body around while she’s suspended in the air.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
“I haven’t seen you out here too often lately.”
“I usually go to Old Harry’s to dance.”
And to avoid a certain bartender. Some nights I just can’t stay away though.
“I heard they’re moving the showdown over here now.”
“Oh, yeah?” I haven’t heard that, but I guess the venue doesn’t really matter.
“Are you competing?”
“Sure am.”
“Well, if you’re looking for a partner, I’m game.”
I’m about to nod in agreement when I hear a crash to my left where the bar is. When I turn to look, my stomach drops.
The gray-haired man is gone, and Dallas’s ex-husband is standing at her bar. Her eyes widen in fear when he sways to the side and takes a seat right in front of her.