3. Cash #2
A low chuckle rumbles out of him. “Course she did. That woman doesn’t need saving, Cash. She’ll eat a man alive and use his bones to stir her next drink.”
Dawson was too young to really remember the summers Halle would spend on the ranch as a teenager. She would watch over my brothers and I to make sure we didn’t get into trouble.
So…does that mean I want to fuck my babysitter?
Ha. Nice.
“Still doesn’t mean she has to,” I mutter, sinking the stripe.
Dawson shakes his head, grinning. “You’ve got it bad, brother. Real bad. You follow that grown-ass woman around like a puppy. Just ask her on a date.”
Colt walks back up right as the new songs kicks in. “I was so sick of that shit playlist. Someone tell Hank he can’t keep playing hits from old guys.”
I laugh, shooting Dawson a look and he nods. Halle is Colt’s sister and the last thing I need is my friend knowing I dream of fucking his sister with her ass in the air, smacking it until it’s covered in red welts from my hand.
Rhett, having heard our conversation, mutters something under his breath and takes a hard shot, the cue ball slamming into the others. Colt watches Rhett as he stalks around the table, taking his next shot.
Something’s been festering between those two for days, but I’m not bothering to find out.
Once our game ends, Rhett goes into the bathroom, Colt following him a few minutes later. I glance toward the bar again, unable to help myself.
Dawson sighs. “You’re hopeless.”
“Yeah. But at least I’ve got good taste,” I admit with a smirk.
He snorts and re-racks the balls for the next players. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Come with me to get one more.” I nod my head toward the bar and both of us walk over there before sitting down.
“Last one?” Halle says as she walks over.
“For me, or like, a general announcement?” I ask.
“For you. Rhett just walked out—figured you were coming to close out.”
I shake my head. “He can’t go nowhere. Dawson is driving.”
Dawson pushes his now-empty Shirley Temple onto the bar mat. “Yeah. But we can do another one.”
Halle nods and leaves to grab our drinks.
The Bar has calmed down a lot since earlier, when I was up here, with only the old men over on the other end. One of them, Boyd, leans over and makes eye contact with me.
“Hey, Cash! You ever had a Hurricane?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Like the fruity shit you get at the beach?”
Boyd laughs. “No. Like the shot.”
Halle comes back and sets our drink down. “I showed him a video of a girl making it. But he’s too scared to try it.”
I narrow my eyes. This man has been drinking since he was in his diapers, and he’s too scared of a shot. “Well, fuck. If it means I can out-drink Boyd for once in my life, I’ll do it.”
Boyd laughs. “Oh hell yeah! Come on, Halle. Do it.”
Halle smirks. “I don’t think it’s a good idea…”
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
“No, I’m afraid you may like it too much,” she quips.
I shake my head. “Make it for me.”
Halle takes a deep breath and shrugs. “Okay. Just…don’t be mad at me.” She grabs a shot glass and pours a shot of something clear inside, along with a plastic cup of water.
“Wow…you’re giving me a chaser for some, what…Tequila?” I scoff.
Halle hops up on the bar and sits in front of me, her ass bouncing as her legs swing over the ledge. Her legs cage me in, and she’s so fucking close I can smell her faintly sweet scent, making my mouth water.
She looks down at me, pink hair falling around her face, lips slightly parted, eyes dark with a smug look. She’s fucking gorgeous like this. “Lean back—head all the way, mouth open,” she says.
I grin up at her. “God, I love the bartender here. She’s so bossy and mean. I’m going to come here every night.”
She scowls, but I catch a flicker of amusement. It’s different than it was with that Tyler guy earlier. I respect her boundaries, but push her ever so slightly. That’s the difference.
That’s something he will never understand.
Her boot kicks out and connects with my thigh. “Lean. Back.”
My dick instantly throbs at her command, but I laugh under my breath and obey. She leans into me, and pours the shot first. It’s a smooth, but strong liquor. Before I can even swallow, though, she dumps the water straight onto my face.
I sputter, laughing, water running down my neck, soaking my black T-shirt. Before I can even wipe my eyes, her hand comes down in a stinging slap across my face.
The whole bar loses it with cheers, whistles, and laughter. My cheek burns from the slap, but it’s nothing compared to the heat roaring through the rest of me. My cock is rock-fucking-hard, straining painfully against my jeans.
I’ve never wanted anyone like how I want Halle.
I love women—all women. Multiple women at once.
But the way I want to grab her hips right now, drag her off the bar, shove her shorts down, and fuck her in front of every single person here just to let them all know she’s mine …
I’ve never felt that way about anyone else.
This is the kind of woman who could absolutely ruin me.
“Good joke,” I say, breathing hard.
“Jesus Christ, Halle, he has to ride home in my truck!” Dawson yells over the noise.
Halle spins around to the other side of the bar and lands lightly on her feet, immediately reaching under the bar. She tosses a clean, folded bar towel at my chest with a small, almost apologetic smile.
“Sorry about that,” she says, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “It’s just harmless fun. You okay?”
Harmless.
I catch the towel and drag it slowly over my face and down my soaked shirt, mostly so I have something to do with my hands besides reach for her. “Yeah, I’m good. Might need another one of those shots later, though, just to make sure I’m fully hydrated.”
Halle rolls her eyes, already turning back toward the register like she’s ready to move on. “You’re relentless, kid. Go dry off before you drip all over my floor.”
There it is again. Kid. That word lands like a bucket of ice water every single time. She says it so easily, so casually, like she’s drawing a line in the sand I’m not allowed to cross.
I want her so fucking bad I ache. Not just her body—though, God knows I’ve imagined that a thousand times. I want the fire in her. The way she puts me in my place and still leaves me wanting more.
But she doesn’t want me back.
I squeeze the towel tighter in my fist, forcing a lazy grin.
Dawson claps me on the back, laughing. “Come on, Casanova. Let’s get you home before you embarrass yourself any more.”
I don’t argue, I just steal one last look at Halle as she moves down the bar.
One day, she’ll stop calling me kid.
One day, she’ll see me the way I see her.
I follow my brother out of The Bar, still half-hard and half-dazed.
I’m cutting across toward Dawson’s truck when I stop dead.
There’s a pink sports bike parked toward the back of the lot with a white helmet hanging on the mirror.
It’s the same model and custom paint as the one I was chasing down the road earlier today.
What the fuck?
Dawson honks from the truck. “Cash. Let’s go.”
Colt walks up beside me. “You good, bro?”
I shake my head, then nod toward the bike. “Whose bike is that?”
Colt glances over. “Oh, yeah. That’s my sister’s.”
His sister. His sister Halle. My Halle.
The realization slams into me like a freight train. The woman who’s been under my skin for months, the one I’ve been watching every night at The Bar, the one I already feel stupidly, dangerously possessive over…is the same woman who left me choking on her exhaust this afternoon.