Page 45

CHAPTER 45

DALLAS

“ A re you sure I look okay?”

As I pull into a parking spot outside The Saddlery, the only bar in Summer, Texas, I can’t help but scoff because it’s literally the fifth time Emily’s asked me this since we left the house. And if the fact that I immediately mauled her the second she stepped out of the bathroom dressed in the pretty white sundress she’s wearing—even if it is my little sister’s—didn’t give her enough reassurance that she looks better than okay , then maybe I’m just going to have fuck her right here in the truck, beneath the glow of the neon lights shining in from the bar sign, where anyone walking by might see.

“Baby, I swear to God,” I start. “You ask me that one more time, I’m going to have to bend you over my knee and spank you.”

Emily’s face flushes, and I don’t know for sure, but I have a feeling she’d like that. Noted. I clear my throat, shifting in my seat because of course my dick is hard.

“I just feel a little silly wearing a sundress in the middle of winter,” she says on a laugh.

“Baby, you look like my teenage dream girl,” I assure her, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles. “The dress. The jean jacket. The cowboy boots. The stuff of seventeen-year-old Dallas’s wet dreams.”

“Ew.” Emily playfully swats my hand away.

“Um, hello?”

I startle, turning to see Millie’s face appear between the front seats.

“Did y’all forget I was back here?”

“No,” I answer with an easy smile.

“So gross,” Millie mutters while hopping out of the truck and slamming the door.

“How embarrassing,” Emily hisses.

“It’s just Mils.” I shrug with a chuckle. “Now, should we go inside? Or am I going to have to actually spank your ass?”

I don’t miss the way her throat bobs with a swallow, the way she shivers ever so slightly, but I say nothing, biting back my smirk.

“Let’s go inside,” she finally says, flashing me a mischievous smile. “You can spank me later… if you’re lucky.”

“Oh, Goldie.” I shake my head, stifling a groan. “You’re gonna get it.”

I adjust my Stetson as we walk into The Saddlery, pulling it a little lower. Just in case. Summer is literally the middle of nowhere, Texas, and for the most part, no one gives a shit who I am. Here, I’m just Dallas Shaw. But, at this time of year, it’s busier than normal inside, with people coming into town to visit family and friends for the holidays, so I choose to play it safe.

Inside, the place is the same as it’s always been. A wide open saloon, saw dust scattered over raw timber floorboards, faded old posters hanging on the walls and the ceiling, neon beer lights like Bud, Miller, and Pabst glowing brightly, a couple pool tables in the back, booths lining the walls, high top tables dotted throughout, and a big old dance floor in front of a stage. As the only watering hole for miles, The Saddlery is an institution around here, and it was the backdrop to many an underage drunken mistake growing up .

With Emily’s hand in mine, I keep her close, glancing over my shoulder to find her grinning, eyes wide, lips parted with an awed smile as she takes it all in. And I can’t say her reaction surprises me; this place is the furthest thing from the uptight New York City bars she’s used to.

“Yo, dude, can I have your autograph!” Someone says, far too close for comfort, and I swing around, ready to give them a piece of my mind. But when I spot Cole Dawson, one of my oldest friends, I laugh out loud, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in close.

“Son, I was about to throw your skinny ass on the damn floor!” I laugh, hugging him hard.

“Missed you too, brother.” Cole chuckles, hugging me just as tight.

I realize then that Emily is just standing there, watching mine and Cole’s exchange with a small smile, and I pull away from my friend since kindergarten and tug her back into my chest, right where she belongs.

“Cole, this is my girl, Emily.” I press a kiss to the top of Emily’s head. “Baby, this is Cole Dawson.”

“Dallas Shaw with a lady?” Cole guffaws. “Well ghast my flabbers and color me stunned.”

Emily laughs out loud.

Cole tips his hat, nodding at Emily with that panty-melting grin he’s perfected over the years. He flashes me a knowing smirk, taking her hand and kissing the back of it instead of shaking it, in a move not unlike one my own. I scowl.

“Come on, y’all, we’re over here.” Cole turns, waving us with him to where a few tables have been pushed together, surrounded by a bunch of familiar guys and girls who all cheer the second they see me.

I introduce Emily to everyone, never once letting her go. Even when she starts talking to Darcy, Cole’s friend-with-benefits, and Millie, who finally made it back from the bar with a tray full of shots and red-rimmed eyes like she’d been crying—I don’t know what the hell that’s about—I stay close enough that I can keep my hand on my girl at all times—her shoulder, her waist, her ass, I just always need to be touching her. I’m lowkey obsessed with this woman and I am not even ashamed to admit it.

“When’d you get home, man?” Jax asks, clinking his bottle of Pabst with mine. “Austin didn’t mention nothing.” Jax is a ranch hand at Rattlesnake.

“Does he ever?” I laugh. My brother is the polar opposite of me. Quiet, reserved, gruff, and closed off. Most people automatically assume he’s an asshole, and he kind of is. But deep down, he’s still the same old big brother who used to buy me and these guys beer when we had no business getting drunk at fifteen.

“Well, it’s good to have you home, son.” Wyatt, one of the other guys, slaps me on my back, grinning mischievously at me. “Now, you gonna let me whoop your ass at pool or what?”

I throw my head back with a laugh, placing my beer down. But before I follow the guys to the pool table, I stop by my love who is deep in conversation with the girls, and I lean in from behind, pressing my lips to her soft cheek with a whispered, “I’m going to kick some ass in pool.”

Smiling, she leans into me and closes her eyes, and as I give her cheek another kiss, my eyes find Millie’s across the table to see her watching on with a faraway smile that contradicts the uncharacteristic sadness in her eyes. And I know something is going on with her. She’s seemed off since she’s been home, which is so not like her. I make a mental note to get to the bottom of it before I leave, giving Emily’s hip a quick squeeze and taking off to join the guys at the designated pool table.

I’ve been playing pool for a while. Cole and I verse Jax and Wyatt, and I’m not sure how long we’ve been playing but I’m having the time of my life, even if we are losing. I love coming back home and just hanging with the guys. Laughing. Talking shit. Just being one of the fellas. I need to make the effort to get back more than once a year.

Leaning over the table, I line up a shot, but I’m distracted by a flash of white across the room, and I look up to see my girl dancing with Millie. I’m momentarily stilted, watching on, captivated. Standing back up, I stare out over the dance floor. She looks so happy, so carefree, spinning around to the song, the short hem of the dress she’s wearing twirling up, giving me—and every other asshole in this joint—a glimpse of her sexy upper thighs. When some jerk wearing a pearl snap shirt sticks his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, letting out an ear-piercing wolf whistle, my fist involuntarily clenches, squeezing around the pool cue. I’ve never been a jealous guy—I’m Dallas Shaw, who the fuck would I have to be jealous over? But when it comes to the woman who owns my heart and guys looking at her like she’s up for grabs, it feels like I could go full Hulk.

“You okay there, champ?” Cole slaps me on my back, pulling me back to the present as he sidles up next to me.

I glance at him to see the hint of a knowing smirk ghost his lips, his gaze settled on the dancefloor where Emily and my sister are dancing, seemingly oblivious to the attention they’re attracting.

“What are you doing still standing here?” He chuckles, jutting his chin toward the dance floor. “Go claim your girl before one of those cowboys thinks she’s fair game.”

Fuck. That.

I toss my cue onto the pool table and stalk toward the dance floor, removing my hat and raking my fingers through my hair before replacing it again and shouldering my way through the throng of gawking assholes lining the floor. Then, moving in, I wrap my arms around my girl from behind, pulling her back flush against my chest, dipping down to press my lips to the shell of her ear. “Are you trying to start a fight, Goldie?”

Her eyes go wide with panic as she glances up at me. “No! Why? What did I do? ”

As if on cue, the band finishes up their cover of an up-tempo Bellamy Brothers tune, the music shifting to Zach Bryan’s “Something in the Orange,” and I give her a reassuring smile and a wink, lowering my voice. “The way these assholes are looking at you out here dancing, I was about ready to roll up my dang sleeves.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes, her laugh self-deprecating, and I hate that. I hate that she doesn’t fully believe me when I tell her that she is the most beautiful woman in any room, and that every single straight man in this place is imagining what her lips taste like. She’s starting to come around. And one day, she’ll believe me. But for now, I just need to be prepared to fight when I’m out with her, because fuck all these losers. She’s mine, fellas. Read it and fucking weep.