Page 39 of Here With Me

Looking up and down the center aisle, I don’t see any signs of them. “Hmm. They were in here a bit ago.”

It’s then I hear roars of laughter on the other end of the barn where Fisher’s working.

Oh shit.

“Found ’em,” Landen says, rushing toward the commotion.

“Goddammit.” I chase after Landen and Tripp, knowing they’ll add to the madness.

“What are y’all doin’?” I ask Wilder and Waylon when I find them hovering over Fisher, who’s working on Shelby’s hoof.

“Did ya know Jase’s dad used to be a famous bull rider?” Wilder asks with amusement.

“Yes.” I hold my stance, placing my hands on my hips as a pre-warning not to start anything. He already doesn’t like Jase. I don’t need him not liking Fisher, too.

“We’re gonna take him to the Twisted Bull on Friday so he can show us his skills on their mechanical bull.” Wilder’s shit-eating grin is covered in mischief, and I don’t like the sound of any of this.

There’s also a large dance floor where couples line dance. At times, it’s shoulder to shoulder with how many people are on it. The boys always get shit-faced and never fail to cause a scene.

“Wilder thinks he’ll be a pro by the end of the evening.” Waylon laughs.

“A pro at fallin’ on his ass,” Landen taunts, shaking his head.

Tripp smirks. “Should we start placin’ bets now? One Benny he lasts four seconds.”

“Four? I give it three before he face-plants the floor,” Waylon says.

“That’s a bad idea.” I interrupt their bets.

Landen says six seconds, and Tripp gives him five.

My gaze meets Fisher’s, and I mouth, “Sorry.”

The corner of his lips tilts up in an amused grin. He’s not even trying to get out of it.

“You should come, little sis.” Waylon nudges me when he catches me staring at Fisher. “Bring that little boyfriend of yours.”

Wilder shakes his head. “You can’t invite her on guys’ night. But she can be our DD.” He glances at me. “We’ll call ya when we’re done for the night.”

“You’re such an asshole.” I walk over and kick him in the shin. “I’ll be there to make sure you don’t embarrass our family in front of the whole town, aside from what you already have.”

“Pfft. Too late for that,” Tripp says. Wilder’s had his fair share of embarrassing moments.

“So whatcha say, Mr. Farrier? I’ll even buy your first round.” Wilder’s wide grin makes me want to sucker punch him in the gut.

“It’s Mr. Underwood,” I tell him, smacking his arm. “Be respectful, or Momma will have your ass.”

Wilder shoves me, so Waylon steps between us. “Okay, kids. No fightin’.”

Ayden walks over, scowling. “Y’all havin’ a family reunion out here? If not, quit botherin’ Mr. Underwood and go away.”

“Tell the boys that.” I scoff.

Usually, I’m the one scolding and separating the boys when they get too rowdy. But with Fisher around, I feel a sense of protectiveness, not wanting them to harass him. The last thing Fisher needs is to be stuck with my brothers in a bar with a mechanical bull and alcohol.

“Friday, ten o’clock!” Wilder shouts as Waylon pulls him away.

Fisher glances up, furrowing his brows. “At night?”