Page 14 of Awaiting the Storm (Wildhaven #1)

M atty walks back to the table like she didn’t just leave a man on the dance floor, nursing a bruised ego.

Head up, shoulders back, footing steady.

That braid of hers swinging as she walks and the black lace clinging to her every curve with the same possessiveness I felt in my chest a few minutes ago when he tapped me on the shoulder.

I wanted to pull her in tighter and tell him to fuck off .

I don’t even know the man. I know nothing about their past, except for the little that Albert and Charli told me, but something inside me has a bad reaction to his presence and has me wanting to shield Matty.

Not that she needs my protection. She’d probably have my balls in a vise for even thinking it.

She doesn’t look flustered. Doesn’t look back at Carl. Just slips into her seat like nothing happened. Like everyone’s eyes aren’t on her and their thoughts aren’t filled with a million questions.

And I’m still standing off to the side of the bar like a damn fool, watching her.

I swallow the last of the liquor in my glass, but it does nothing to drench the fire licking just under my skin. I’ve never been the jealous type. I don’t have time for drama or jealousy or any of that juvenile, macho, chest-beating bullshit.

But watching her dance with Carl, watching him put his hands on her where mine had just been?

It lit something in me I hadn’t seen coming.

I barely know her. In fact, we’re practically strangers. We’ve had, what, four conversations? A couple of sidelong glances, one and a half dances? Yet it feels like I’ve known her forever.

What the hell is that?

I’m here to gain her trust and earn her respect for one reason—to convince her to part with a stretch of Wildhaven Storm land that could benefit us both.

I’m not here to fall for the girl with an attitude the size of Wyoming, who runs herself ragged for a struggling ranch she’s hell-bent on trying to save.

And yet all I can think about is how right she felt in my arms.

How wrong it looked when she was in his.

“Boy, you’ve got it bad.”

I turn my head to find Charli leaning beside me, a sly grin stretching across her face. Shelby’s beside her, arms crossed, smirking like she knows exactly what kind of tornado just hit me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say too quickly, too loudly.

“Mmhmm,” Charli says. “You’ve been staring at Sissy like a starving man and she’s your next meal.”

I glance toward the table again. Matty’s laughing at something Cabe said. Her smile looks easy, but I see the tension in her shoulders, the way she keeps her hands wrapped tightly around her glass.

“I just don’t like the guy,” I mutter.

“Who, Carl?” Shelby snorts. “Join the club.”

Charli leans in, bumping my shoulder with hers.

“He’s a walking cautionary tale. He left her high and dry without so much as a goodbye, and now he’s back with his tail between his legs and pretty words on his lips.

Thinking he can worm his way back into her life—and into her bed—just like that. ” She snaps her fingers for effect.

The last sentence lingers in the air.

“He looked ready to take a swing at me,” I note.

“Probably was.” She shrugs. “Man’s been gone a year and still thinks he has a claim on her. Asshole.”

Shelby lowers her voice. “Matty may be tough as nails and an island unto herself on the outside, but on the inside, she’s just like everybody else. We just don’t want her to fall for his shit again.”

“She won’t,” I say before I can stop myself.

Both girls glance at me, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“And how do you know that?” Shelby asks.

I rub the back of my neck. “I just do. ”

The truth is, I don’t. Not really. But I feel it. In the way she melted into me during that dance. In the way she didn’t melt into him.

Cabe raises his empty bottle, and when none of us makes a move, he stands, leaves Elise at the table with Matty, and walks over to us. “What’s up? What are you guys whispering about over here?”

“Carl and Matty,” Charli admits.

Cabe blows out a breath. “Carl screwed up, yeah. But I don’t know, you guys … maybe he’s trying. We should cut him some slack.”

Charli rolls her eyes. “You would say that. You’re too nice for your own good.”

“He was a decent dude back in the day. And Matty was different when she was with him.”

“Yeah, because she thought she had someone who loved her. Someone she could count on,” Shelby fires off. “And then he upped and quit on her. Professionally and personally.”

I don’t jump in. I don’t need to. The Storm sisters have already rendered their verdict. And Carl Teague is guilty as far as they are concerned.

Their Matty’s not a woman you quit on.

And Carl’s going to learn that the hard way.

“We need to get back over there before she gets out of her head and realizes we’re over here, talking about her,” Shelby mutters, and they agree.

The four of us head back toward the table. Matty looks up as I pull my empty chair closer to her. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t flinch. Just lifts her chin a notch.

“You’re still here?” she asks, voice dry.

I nod. “Why? You tired of me already?”

She shrugs. “No. I just thought maybe you’d left.”

“I considered it.”

She arches a brow. “What changed your mind?”

“You walked away from him.”

Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t reply. She doesn’t need to. That answer sits between us like a lit match.

A waitress swings by, and I order a round for the table—more bourbon, a beer for Cabe, and before I can ask Matty what she wants, she speaks up.

“Tequila,” she says, handing over her empty glass. “One shot. ”

Then she stands, removes the hat from her head, sets it on the table, and announces she’s going to get napkins.

As she watches her go, Shelby whistles, dragging it out low and dramatic. “Oh boy.”

Charli leans across the table, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Now, things are gonna get interesting.”

Cabe groans. “Fuck. This night’s about to go sideways, isn’t it?”

Charli bumps her glass against my empty one. “Better buckle up, cowboy. When tequila shots start flowing, there’s no telling where the night’s going to lead.”

Cabe shakes his head, clearly concerned about where this evening is going to end up.

Charli tosses the lime from her drink at him. “Don’t be such a worrywart.”

Shelby and Elise snicker.

“That’s rich, coming from the woman who has chores at dawn,” he grumbles.

“ We have chores at dawn. Which isn’t too long from now, so we might as well enjoy ourselves till then,” she says as Matty returns with a stack of cocktail napkins in hand.

“Ugh. I was a different man when I let you two talk me into this,” Cabe cries, and they laugh as the waitress returns with our order.

Matty ignores them, and I watch the way her eyes sparkle as she grabs the shot and downs it. The way the color’s high in her cheeks now, the way her lips press together to hold back a smile. She’s not trying so hard to hold everything together for once. And the sight’s damn near magnetic.

“Another, please,” she says as she licks a drop of tequila from the corner of her mouth.

“Make it six, with a saltshaker and lime wedges, please,” Charli calls.

The waitress hurries to the bar and returns with six more shots. Matty reaches for one before anyone else. She sprinkles salt on her wrist, throws the shot back, licks the salt off her skin, and chases it with a bite of lime sucked between her lips.

I can’t stop staring.

She wipes her fingers with one of the napkins, then glances sideways at me. “What? ”

I shake my head, lips lifting into a grin. “Nothing.”

“Not used to women who can drink you under the table?”

“I think I’m not used to women like you at all.”

Her expression flickers—something unreadable—but then the band kicks into a crowd favorite, and Shelby and Charli jump up again to head back to the dance floor.

Elise grabs Cabe’s hand as he takes his shot and slams the glass on the table, pulling him up.

Matty stays seated.

Cabe leans over and says something to her—something I can’t hear—as he’s pulled to the dance floor, and she nods. Then it’s just the two of us at the table.

The moment stretches with expectation again.

“I meant what I said,” I tell her.

She looks at me. “Which part?”

“That you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

She studies me for a long moment, then leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, voice low.

“I don’t know what your game is, Caison. I really don’t. One minute, you’re all business, and the next, you’re on the dance floor, looking at me like I hung the moon. So, what is it? What are you after? The ranch? The land? Me?”

I exhale slowly.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, and it’s arrived sooner than I planned.

But somehow, tonight … it doesn’t feel right to lie. And it sure as hell doesn’t feel right to blurt out the truth.

“I came here for the land,” I admit. “That’s the truth.”

She tenses, face going blank.

“But,” I add, “you weren’t part of the plan.”

Her eyes lock on mine, wary.

“You’re not the kind of woman a man can ignore, Matty. And I’m not proud of it, but I came here tonight, thinking this would be a golden opportunity to catch you with your guard down. I had an agenda. Something I wanted. Now …”

“Now?” she repeats, a challenge in her tone .

I shrug, honest for once. “Now I just want to get you back on that dance floor, feel you against me again, make you smile, and get you to relax just so I can know what your laugh sounds like when you’re not holding back.”

For a second, her expression softens.

But then she stands and smooths her dress down with a practiced hand. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

“Okay,” I say slowly.

I guess the conversation is over.

She takes one step, then looks over her shoulder at Charli as she comes off the dance floor.

Charli’s watching us like a hawk. When Matty disappears down the hall, she turns to me with a slow, wicked grin.

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “The night just officially took a turn.”

I raise an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”

She taps the empty shot glass Matty left behind. “Because when Matty Storm starts drinking tequila, you’d better believe something’s gonna catch fire. The question is, are you, Caison Galloway, going to be the one holding the match or the one who gets burned?”