Page 11

Chapter Eleven

M aureen came back from the bathroom at Nelson’s. She checked out where everyone was as she tried to decide her next move. Should she ask Compass to dance?

Compass didn’t think she knew because he’d tried to be quiet, but she’d heard him rubbing one out in the shower tonight. She’d left to go borrow a shirt from Regina for tonight and gotten back before he’d finished in the shower. He couldn’t hear the door to the bedroom over the shower, and she’d heard his groan as he came.

Peck, one of the brothers who’d started the bar and had sons who now ran it, walked over to her.

“A little bird told me that someone might need a little nudge, and I never turn down holding a beautiful woman in my arms. May I have this dance?” he asked.

She glanced over his shoulder and saw Meg smiling and nodding at her.

“I would love to,” Maureen said, allowing Peck to lead her to the dance floor. Peck was handsome, and any other woman would probably jump all over him if he showed interest, but the big lug sitting at their table had caught her attention, and no one else interested her.

Peck led her around the dance floor to the slow song the band was playing. The band had been one of the reasons everyone wanted to come because Regina had said she wanted to support a local band. Maureen was impressed with their songs. They played a mix of slow and fast songs from a variety of eras.

“How are you liking Kansas after South Dakota?” Peck asked.

“I love Bluff Creek. Everyone is so nice. And I love the bar. Have you had it a long time?” she asked.

“It seems like forever. My brothers and I raised our boys in the apartment above the bar. Whiskey, Hennessy, and their families, along with Schaefer, live there now. The bar, along with our other properties, has built a good life for us and our kids. Now, if Bill, Burt, and I can get the rest of the boys to find families, we can die happy.”

“Die happy? You’re still young. You have a lot of time to find someone, too.”

He chuckled and grinned. “I’m too set in my ways. I’m happy to be a grandpa. Besides, she’d have to be really special for me to consider living with someone. I’m not as lucky as Compass.”

Maureen huffed and didn’t say anything.

“I’ve known him a while. Be patient and give him a little nudge,” Peck said, then chuckled. “Incoming,” he whispered.

“Can I cut in to dance with my date?” Compass growled.

“Well, I don’t know. She’s quite lovely in my arms. I mean, you may have brought her, but you didn’t seem to be seeing to her needs, now did ya?” Peck teased.

Maureen waited to see what would happen. Peck seemed to enjoy pushing Compass’ buttons.

“Happy to knock some sense into you,” Compass growled and moved Maureen out from between him and Peck.

Peck stared at Compass, then nodded. “Man’s not a man if he won’t fight for the woman he wants,” he said and walked off the floor.

Maureen stared at Compass, waiting to see what the exasperating man would do.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, holding his hand out.

She nodded and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her close. Why, oh why did it have to feel different with the man who seemed to not be getting the hint she wanted more?

If he kept pressing his chest against her breasts, he might not be the only one self-gratifying in the shower. But if she had to, she was darn well going to make sure the man knew what she was doing.

She understood his convictions, even though he’d never said anything about them to her. She wondered how she was supposed to get the man to talk about a relationship. Maybe just talking about anything would help.

“I’m excited for the commemoration weekend. What’s your favorite part?” she asked.

“I think the Poker Run will be fun and watching the younger ones compete in the pickleball tournament,” he said, his deep gravelly voice doing things to her she’d thought she’d never feel again after losing her husband. If she was reading her and Compass’ story in a book, she’d be screaming at the book to get a move on. Slow burns had their place, but very few of the authors she beta read for wrote them very often. Probably because they were like her and wanted the couple to get on with it.

“I’ve never participated in a Poker Run. What exactly will the people do?” she asked. She knew because Regina had explained it to her, but she was giving Compass an opportunity to ask her to ride with him in it.

“Riders pay to participate, with the money going to the designated charity. They draw a poker card at each stop on the route. Best hand at the end wins the prizes. We have a couple of people and groups who have donated items. A lot of times the winner will re-donate what they won to be auctioned off to make more money.”

Oh my goodness, this man made her want to pull her hair out by the roots. Was he going to participate? Was he going to ask her to ride with him?

The slow song ended, and the band said they’d be taking a ten-minute break. She followed Compass back to the table.

Bill, Burt, and Peck were sitting at the table with their group.

“Hey darlin’, you riding with somebody for the Poker Run?” Burt asked.

Maureen paused because she realized he was talking to her.

“Umm, well…”

“Fuck off, Burt. She’s riding with me. Find your own woman,” Compass said, glaring at Burt.

Okay. Guess she was riding with him, but it would have been nice if he asked and didn’t just assume she would.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you’d asked her,” Regina said.

Maureen hid a smile at Regina’s tone. It sounded a lot like the one Maureen remembered using to get after her kids.

Compass turned to her, brought her hand up, and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “Would you do me the honor of riding with me on the Poker Run?” he asked.

Holy smokes. Cue the wet panties with his gesture. She’d not only ride with him on the Poker Run but she’d be happy to ride him when they got home tonight because the man set her on fire.

She choked out a yes and then sat down beside him at the table, taking a huge drink of water. It didn’t quench the fire burning through her, but at least she didn’t have to coherently talk with anyone. If she survived being with this man but not having him put out the flames, she’d be impressed. If guys got blue balls, what exactly did she call what was happening with her? Surely one of her authors could tell her an apt phrase for the hell of unrequited desire she was feeling. She grinned at the term. She’d read a historical romance the other day, and they’d used that term. She thought it fit her life quite aptly.

And honestly, if someone didn’t figure out how to put out the fire, one of them—either her or Compass—might not survive.