Rawley lowered his head, his dark espresso eyes never leaving hers until the last moment when his warm lips pressed against hers with a tenderness that made her heart flutter. He pulled her against his solid chest, the intoxicating scent of his aftershave enveloping her like a blanket. She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers threading through the silky dark hair at his nape as he deepened the kiss, the gentle, teasing sweep of his tongue making her moan softly into the star-studded night air. He raised his head and gazed into her eyes, his pupils dilated with desire.
“Damn. That was good,” he murmured, his voice a husky rumble against her skin.
“Yes,” she whispered, her lips still tingling.
“You’ve been driving me crazy since the first time I saw you at the bar. Eating that cherry.” His lips lifted into a slow grin that made her heart stutter against her ribcage.
She stood on her tiptoes, the delicious rough texture of his five o’clock shadow grazing her flushed skin as she kissed his lips, then slid hers across his stubbled cheek to the sensitive hollow beneath his ear.
“You should see what I can do with the stem,” she whispered against his heated skin as she nipped at his earlobe with her teeth, tasting the salt of his skin.
“Fuck,” he swore, his hands tightening on her waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress.
“Goodnight, Rawley.” Skylar laughed when he groaned.
“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.” His thumb traced her bottom lip with exquisite slowness, making her shiver with anticipation.
“I’ll try. You too.”
He shook his head. “I can tell you right now, that is not going to happen after that kiss.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering for a heartbeat, then looked at her with an intensity that made her knees weak as he clasped her hand and squeezed it, his palm warm and reassuring against hers. “Go inside.”
“Okay. Night.” She smiled, her fingers reluctantly slipping from his as she opened the door and walked inside. She turned to close the door to see him still standing there, a silhouette of broad shoulders against the moonlit night. He nodded once and she closed the door and locked it. Then she leaned against the solid oak wood with her trembling hand pressed to her tingling lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss and tasting him on her tongue.
Chapter Six
Rawley eased his pickup backward onto the road, the tires crunching under the tires. He rolled onto the asphalt road and paused, gripping the steering wheel as memories of that kiss flickered through his mind. A slow smile lifted his lips. He started to turn toward home, then shook his head, shifted into drive, and aimed the truck back to Dewey’s. He needed to know if those men were still lurking around, or if they’d slipped away unnoticed.
Pulling into the bar’s crowded lot, Rawley cursed under his breath at the sight of all the vehicles jostled into every available space. Finally snagging a spot between a beat-up GMC pickup and a dually with mud-splattered fenders, he slammed the door, the hot evening air rushing in to greet him. He strode to the doors, opened them, and entered. He wove between clusters of patrons, scanning cowboy hats, no sign of the five who’d tried to make trouble earlier.
“Shit,” he muttered. If only he knew the truck’s license plate, he’d comb the whole town until he found them. The only thing he was sure about was that the truck was a red Ford-150 with big tires on it, making it set higher. He let out a long breath and eased onto a stool at the bar’s polished wooden counter.
“Rawley? I thought you’d hightailed it home,” Scarlett said, her voice soft but teasing. Neon beer signs hummed behind her, casting a blue glow on her red hair.
“I did,” he admitted. “But some guys were giving Skylar a hard time, and I swear they followed us out of town. I wanted to see if they came back to the bar.”
Scarlett leaned forward, her forearms resting on the bar’s edge. Her eyes narrowed in thought. “One wore a brown cowboy hat, right? Had three or four fellas trailing him?”
Rawley nodded. His heart thudded at the memory. “That’s them.”
“They cleared out pretty quick after you left,” Scarlett said with a small smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Heard one of them cuss about not heading back to the motel.” She smiled. “There’s only one motel in this town.”
Rawley pushed back from the bar, the stool scraping softly against the floor. “Dalton’s. Thanks, Scarlett.”
“Anytime,” she replied, pulling a slim phone from her apron pocket. “I’ll shoot you a text if they come strolling back in here.”
“Please do.” He removed a business card from his wallet and slid it across to her. “Be sure Noah doesn’t catch you with this. I’m not looking to get my ass handed to me.”
Scarlett laughed, the sound bright in the dim bar. “He has no worries, and he knows it.”
Rawley touched the brim of his hat. “I’m sure. Have a good night.”
“You too.” She moved along the bar to help another customer.
He pushed through the doors, the summer air wrapping around him. Climbing into the cab of his truck, he let the engine idle, then pulled out, steering onto Main Street and rolling toward Dalton’s, then pulling into the lot. Moonlight glinted off chrome bumpers as he eased through the parking lot, driving slowly so he could inspect each truck. His eyes locked onto a lifted Ford F-150 with oversized tires, the kind that left deep ruts in mud.
He jerked the truck to a halt, the engine sputtering into silence as he yanked the keys from the ignition. He flung the door open, gravel crunching beneath his boots as he circled the vehicle. Crouching low, he pulled out his phone, its blue light illuminating his face as he captured the mud-spattered Montana license plate, then photographed each tire’s worn treads, therubber patterns distinct against the asphalt. Task complete, he pocketed the phone and drove the long dark road home.
Pulling in by the back door, he grinned at the chorus of barks. He opened the door into the kitchen, squatted to scratch their ears, feeling their warm fur and wagging tails against his palms. Standing, he removed his cowboy hat, perched it on the rack beside the others, then sat on the bench by the door to toe off his boots.
