Page 15 of Revelry (Cowgirls Do It Better #2)

Gertie

I knocked on Tate’s door, noticing the pristine condition it was in compared to our dusty, dirt-lined entrance.

“How is his door so clean?” I muttered. Anything to distract myself from wondering what he would think of my costume.

Would he think I looked good? Would he be put off?

Why did I care what he thought? It’s not like I wanted anything to happen, did I?

No, men were still a no-go for me. But for some reason, whenever I thought about Tate, I completely forgot about that and got this little quivery sensation low in my stomach.

The door opened and as I took in Tate, I wondered why I hadn’t anticipated this.

“Where’s your costume?”

He glanced down at his denim shirt and black jeans before his steely stare met mine, little shivers dancing along my bare arms. “I’m wearing it.”

I cocked my head to one side and raised a brow. “But you’re dressed normally.”

His serious expression remained. “No, I’m dressed as something very scary.”

I folded my arms and tapped my foot.

“I’m dressed as someone who socializes. That’s scary.”

“Funny. I should have known you would be difficult about this,” I huffed and pushed past him into the house. He protested but I ignored him, heading for the stairs and noticing the strong disinfectant smell coming from the kitchen. He must have cleaned recently.

The heels of my red pumps clomped up the wooden staircase and it wasn’t long before I heard him coming up behind me. Which suddenly alerted me to the fact that he would be getting an eyeful.

“Jesus Christ, Gertrude. I can practically see your ass,” he growled, his voice deeper than normal.

I tugged the edges of my dress down to give me some dignity back but by then we were almost at the landing, so it felt kinda pointless.

I assessed which of the two rooms to venture into first and picked the room at the front of the house.

It turned out to be a very stylish home gym full of equipment that was clearly responsible for the mouth-watering muscles struggling to be contained by Tate’s denim shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asked, an edge of panic had crept into his voice. He probably wasn’t used to people in his space and for a moment I felt a twinge of empathy until I remembered this is what he needed.

I ducked around him, getting a whiff of his pulse-pounding smoke and sandalwood scent and went to the back bedroom, the layout mirrored mine.

“Oh cute, our bedrooms share a wall!”

He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest, his grumpy scowl turned up to eleven. “I know. I can hear you singing. And snoring.”

My heart pounded in my chest thinking about what else I’d been doing in there recently. “Is that a—all you can hear?”

He grunted which didn’t really confirm anything, but I figured if he had heard me having some me time then he probably would have mentioned it.

“Well, if I ever snore too loud then just knock on the wall. I’ll hear it, they’re pretty thin. I always hear the classical music you’re playing.”

Another grunt and his eyes darted away. “Don’t we need to get going? What time does it start? I don’t want to be late.”

“What’s the matter?” A teasing smirk lifted my lips. “Don’t like having me in your room, Tate?”

“I don’t like having anyone in my anything,” he rumbled, his nose scrunching adorably.

“This won’t take long.” I marched over to the wardrobe and threw the double doors open, assessing the racks of his clothes. I sifted through the various shirts until I saw exactly what I was looking for. A forest green plaid shirt that I couldn’t wait to see him in.

I tossed the shirt to him. “Put this on.”

He snatched it before it hit the floor and smoothed his hand over the material. “No.”

“Tate,” I pleaded. “You can’t go to a Halloween party without a costume.”

He looked off to the side, his jaw working overtime at the grinding factory and he clicked his fingers three times.

I frowned, he’d done that a few times now, was it some kind of tic or habit?

Was he more anxious than I thought? He joked he was dressed as someone who socialized and that it was scary, but was he actually not joking at all?

“I’m not going to steer you wrong, Tate. Trust me.”

He sighed before he began unbuttoning his shirt.

I could say I was respectful and looked away.

But I would be a liar.

The hint of tan skin at the base of his throat. The smoothness of his collarbone. The wide expanse of chest that appeared. The dusting of dark hair that trailed beneath his jeans had me gripping the wardrobe doors tighter to stop my buckling knees.

Fuck he was hot.

Like five-alarm fire, Carolina Reaper pepper, stop me in my tracks, make my mouth pool with saliva, hot .

H.A.W.T.

He switched the shirts over, buttoned it up and I came to my senses when I watched him meticulously fold the denim shirt and put it on the edge of the bed.

Oh shit the bed. Where he slept. Probably naked.

And did other things. My cheeks heated and I spun back to the wardrobe and gave it my total focus. You swore off men, remember?

On the top shelf I spotted exactly what I was looking for and tossed him the black Stetson. Then snagged the brown leather chaps hanging there.

“Well howdy, cowboy,” I teased in a southern drawl, then winked at him.

He almost smiled. I could see he wanted to. Saw his muscles fight against it but that was enough for me. He strapped the chaps on, and I was just glad I’d already seen him in them so I was at least prepared for the vision.

But I was not prepared for the way he put his hat on and ran his finger along the brim before dipping his head slightly and saying ma’am in a southern drawl.

I choked. Actually choked. I slapped my chest a few times while he raised a curious eyebrow at me until I gave him a thumbs up.

Fuck.

He had no clue what he looked like, did he? I was going to be fighting the women off him all night. All there in their sexy nurse outfits. Rage flooded my veins and a possessiveness I’d never felt before consumed me.

He tutted, looking down at himself. “Ah, not full cowboy. I haven’t got any spurs.”

My tongue felt twenty times heavier when I said, “Trust me, sugar. No one’s gonna be looking at your feet.”

We eventually made it outside. I had planned to let him drive us in his truck, however I figured he might need a few drinks to ease into the night.

After he locked up, I gestured towards Princess. “Come on.”

“Seriously?” He folded his arms across his full chest, probably hoping to look all I’m putting my foot down but instead he just looked all fuck me now .

“Don’t be that guy who’s masculinity is too fragile to get into a little pink car driven by a girl.”

He shook his head. “This isn’t a pride thing, it’s a size thing. I’m big.”

My eyes lazily tracked his body, landing on his crotch which was unfairly highlighted by the chaps. I’ll bet. “You’ll cope for one night.”

He rolled his eyes but went around to the passenger side. I was in and turning the key in the ignition before he had one leg inside. There was a lot of grunting and maneuvering but eventually he was tucked inside safely, his knees to his chest. He shot me a vicious look when I giggled.

The drive was fairly silent. Tate wasn’t a big talker, but I didn’t mind.

Normally I was the chattiest of chatterboxes but actually the silence felt comfortable.

I didn’t need to fill it, his company was very calming.

I hummed along with the radio and before I knew it, we were parking outside The Lonely Bison.

The saloon doors with the bison skull etched on them were draped with spider webbing and someone had drawn bloody fangs on the bison. He was now a vampire bison. I pointed it out to Tate gleefully, but he just grunted.

“Are you just going to grunt all night?”

Guess how he answered.

I paused before entering and he bumped into me before gripping my shoulders and righting us both.

“Now remember,” I began, peering miles up at him and his dark gaze beneath the brim of his hat.

“Tonight is about fun. Nothing but fun. So, think fun thoughts.” I tweaked his nose and he exhaled heavily but didn’t complain.

Pushing open the doors, we were immediately flooded by the band playing a country version of Thriller .

Bats hung from the ceiling along with more cobwebs which also draped over the bar.

You could just about see the wooden floor through a thin layer of mist. Glowing red eyes were spread over the walls and there were tombstones dotted here and there with a coffin standing upright in the corner.

“It looks amazing!” I squealed, excitement fizzling inside me.

The mechanical bull had blood dripping from his maw and what looked to be entrails dangling from his horns. So freaking creative.

The high-top tables towards the back of the bar had been moved and in their place was an eyeball bobbing station, a pumpkin carving station along with a trick or treat table full of covered boxes with a hole to put your hand in and see what’s inside.

“Yes, it does,” Tate agreed. I turned to see him looking around the bar with interest and gave myself a pat on the back.

It was going to be a good night; I could just feel it.