Page 6 of Wrangled and Tangled (Raven Peak Ranch #1)

W hy am I back here?

Because I’m a sucker for my daughter, and she roped everyone in, even Uncle Scott and Aunt LuAnna. We’ve got a whole row blocked off, courtesy of Levi, and Lucy looks over the moon about it.

Watching Heath ride again is stupid. I should have made an excuse to go to the bathroom or something. My resolve is slipping, especially after that kiss. My knees were weak the moment I sat in the truck, and I couldn’t even crank ol’ reliable until I sat for a few minutes.

After the show’s over, Briar asks to meet the riders, animals, you name it. Lucy’s already off with Levi, and Uncle Scott, LuAnna, and Mawmaw look ready to head out.

“Please, Dad.” Briar begs, holding her hands together in front of her face.

“Mawmaw’s ready to go, Flower. It’s late,” I warn, giving her my best ‘stern dad face.’

“But,” she starts, and Aunt LuAnna jumps in.

“How about you listen to your dad, and before we open tomorrow, I’ll let you come in and dance on the freshly waxed floors?”

Her eyes widen, and she smiles. “Will you let me pick the songs?”

Her great-aunt laughs and nods, throwing me a wink and shuffling Briar out of the stands.

My neck heats instantly, and I know someone’s eyes are trained on me.

Slowly looking around, I spot him. He’s doing an interview, but his eyes are on me.

Barely looking at the reporter, he keeps his golden gaze locked on me, even while I move.

The exit is past him, which means I’ll have no excuse not to speak to him. With the crowd moving toward the exit, I get separated from the group. Hanging back a bit, hopeful his interview will end soon, I wait, allowing others to pass by me first.

The reporter must have a million questions because he’s still talking. If I stand here too long, I’m bound to garner attention. Dropping my head, I walk past him, grumbling about how reckless I’m being. As I make my way out, I hear him tell the reporter he’s done.

“Spencer!” He yells, and I don’t stop, hopeful that maybe he’ll give up. “Hey!”

Taking a deep breath, I stop and turn, watching him catch up to me through what's left of the crowd.

“One drink,” he says, with a smile still plastered across his face. “Please.”

Shaking my head, I start to speak, and he starts too.

“Please, I’ve been patient, and I know I’m not crazy. We have something here,” he says, motioning his hands between us. “One drink, that’s all.”

“Alright,” I resign, knowing he won’t be in town much longer, and if I can get him out of my system, maybe I’ll be good for the next ten years.

“Really?” He asks, taken aback almost as if he was prepared to beg.

I hate that my body really wants to hear it.

“I’ll be there,” I confirm, turning around and walking out.

God, what the fuck am I doing? He’s got to be in his twenties, with nothing to lose, and I’m a father to a teenager with a small house and modest living. He won’t be interested in me after one drink, so why am I so worried?

I can have a fun time and not feel guilty. God knows it’s been a while since I’ve been intimate.

I’ve got to go home and take care of a few things. Let him wait–if he’s serious about getting a drink, he will.

Even if my sister has opinions about him, he’s easy on the eyes, and I’ve waited and frustrated both of us for long enough.

Turning into a spot between two other trucks, I put the ol’ gal in neutral, engage the parking brake and turn her off. Pulling the key from the ignition and pocketing it, I step out, adjust my belt and shirt, put my hat on the dash, replace it with my baseball cap, turn it backward, and walk in.

My boots are covered in dust by the time I’m walking through the door.

A little stomp and swipe has most of the red dust falling off before stepping into the bar.

The glossy wood planks under my feet creak, and the smell of beer and sweat are a comfort.

I grew up in this town, this bar, and the ranch behind it.

The Rowdy Raven has seen many of this town’s breakups, makeups, and everything in-between. Along with my uncle, who’s been running this place far longer than he’ll admit, he likes to think he’s still in his twenties. His wife keeps him in check, though, and keeps him down to reality.

“Looky who decided to come down from his perch tonight!” My uncle hollers from behind the bar when his eyes land on mine. It’s been a minute since I’ve been in here, that’s true, but the old bastard didn’t have to shout it to the whole damn bar.

My cheeks flush, and I roll my eyes. Everyone who stopped to look returns to whatever it was they were doing, and I join my sister, Levi, and my Aunt LuAnna at the main bar. LuAnna grips my forearm in quiet apology for her husband’s outburst, and I smile down at her.

“He’s on another level tonight, honey,” she says with a head shake, yet her smile remains. She loves Uncle Scott. It’s always been clear, even when he acts like a total idiot.

“Yeah, he is,” Levi shouts, holding up his empty glass. “Pouring liquor with a heavy hand tonight.”

He gyrates his hips into my sister, and she smiles but pushes him off. He doesn’t stop though. He hangs all over her as if she’s his prize and he’s showing her off.

Lucy avoids my look and ushers him away to a table tucked in the corner of the bar. I worry, but knowing Lucy, she’d rather chew off her arm than talk to me about whatever this problem with Heath and Levi is.

The dance floor is packed, spotlights roam over dancers as they dance the line, changing colors like a kaleidoscope. Music pours out of the speakers stationed around the old, worn-down floor, and a DJ stands on the opposite side with headphones sitting half on his head.

With my elbows propped on the bar behind me, LuAnna and I watch as Uncle Scott jumps in and starts grooving, too. We laugh, unable to hold it in any longer. He’s one of the most uncoordinated people I’ve ever known.

“Bless him,” LuAnna says, standing and ducking under the bar to serve some customers. She smiles at them, all while mixing and twirling bottles to make their drinks. I have to crane my neck back to see her move.

Scott meanders through the crowd, most likely asking if everything’s alright. He never wants anyone to leave feeling like they didn’t have a good time.

Unless they came to pick a fight. Now that he won’t tolerate, and he’s one scary-ass dude. Standing about four inches taller than me, he may be a bean pole, but I’ve seen him throw men out on their asses faster than the strike-a-lightning can crack and sparkle in the sky.

LuAnna taps me on the shoulder, and I turn my back to the dance floor. She’s got a big ol’ smile on her face as she slides a beer my way, one brow raises, and she nods to a part of the bar I can’t see.

“It’s on him,” is all she says before she’s serving someone else.

Walking the way she indicated, I look for whoever it is that bought me a drink. Even though LuAnna most likely won’t charge him, it’s polite to acknowledge it. There’s a surge in the crowd as the music changes to another song, and those who were on the dance floor take a break.

Scott and LuAnna handle it without worry, and soon, everyone’s been refueled and ready to dance some more.

Though I still haven’t found whoever it was that LuAnna nodded to.

I’ll feel bad if I don’t at least say thank you, and I’m sure my mama will have some way of getting back at me from the grave if I don’t use the manners she taught me.

“Kept me lookin’ long enough,” a heavily accented voice says from behind me. My stomach bunches, and I swallow down a bundle of nerves before turning around.

Heath Macabe stands there, one hand wrapped around a cool glass of beer, the other in his pocket. His golden brown eyes are locked on me, and his grin threatens to send me to my knees.