Finding zero holes in her argument, I shrug and accept the shot glass, downing it like a pro. Of course, we follow the shot with a loud cheer like a couple of drunken college girls. I laugh and go with it. Why not? I only get to live once. A few seats down from where we’re standing, I spot River nursing a drink. Flagging down the bartender, I order another round and include River.
“Let’s dance!” I suggest loudly enough for River to hear.
She doesn’t say no, so I grab her by the arm and drag her to the center of the dance floor. Do I know this line dance? Nope, but two shots of vodka have already given me enough courage to follow along and learn as I go. As the warmth from the alcohol begins to settle over me, I give myself permission to live in the moment. If Rayna wants to relive the drunken college years, who am I to step in and ruin it?
They have been playing song after song that I know. The music pulses through me as I forget about everything else. Finally, the tempo slows, and I open my eyes, preparing to leave the dance floor, when a large, callused hand grips my arm. Whipping my head around, I once again collide gazes with Tate Garrison.
“Hey.” His rough voice is barely loud enough for me to hear.
“Hi.”
“May I have this dance? I owe you at least that for backing into your car earlier.”
My brain fails me, leaving me incapable of forming a coherent response. Of course, my traitorous brain would choose this moment to give up. I fumble for a moment before finally nodding in agreement. And then I’m in his arms. He’s so tall. And so… big. My head barely reaches his shoulder as he pulls me close and sways to the music. Rascal Flats plays over the speakers as I manage to keep step with him. He smells woodsy and clean. And safe.
“I think I owe you an apology,” he says softly into my ear. “I was distracted earlier. I’m sorry we met that way. And I’m sorry if I was an asshole.”
“No,” I argue. “I’m the one who owes you an apology. I was a bitch. I’m fine. My car is fine. There’s no reason I should have spoken to you the way I did.”
Tate says nothing. He simply pulls me close and continues moving to the music. At this point, I have no idea what’s happening, so I just go with it. Tate hasn’t even introduced himself, not that I don’t already know exactly who he is. But for some reason, this seems like the perfect apology that I don’t deserve. When the song ends, he ducks down to meet my gaze.
“Let’s start over. I’m Tate Garrison. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I blink several times before looking down at his outstretched hand and accepting it. “Joy Anderson.”
His smile causes my knees to go weak. Crinkles form around his eyes and creases accentuate his dimples, making them noticeable even beneath his beard. And his mouth—god, that mouth. Perfectly sculpted lips have me quickly imagining what they might feel like.
“Let me buy you a drink,” I blurt, desperate to fill the silence between us. “I owe you one for how rude I was earlier.”
“Nope. We aren’t going to bring up what happened earlier again. This is our first meeting.” Once more, he flashes those honey-brown eyes at me, and I don’t even remember my name. “But a drink sounds perfect.”
“A round of lemon drops!” I announce as soon as the bartender is within earshot. “And a round of whatever the men are drinking!”
The bartender takes the credit card that I’ve produced from—well—I’m not even sure where it came from. All I know is that I’m doing everything I can to continue being wild and free when all I want to do is figure out everything there is to know about the man beside me.
“Jack and coke for me,” Tate says to the bartender as he stuffs a twenty into the tip jar.
“Grayson’s been drinking Miller Light if you really want him on your tab,” the bartender says as she fills two shot glasses before mixing Tate’s Jack and Coke.
I look around the room and don’t see Grayson anywhere. Or River. “Well, if they turn up serve them a drink on my tab.”
“Are you good?” Rayna asks me. “Wyatt is on his way to pick me up. Do you need a ride?”
“I’ve got her,” Tate answers before I’ve even had a chance to respond. “This will only be my second drink of the night. And my last. Wyatt knows me. He’ll tell you I’m trustworthy.”
I don’t fight through the haze of alcohol when Tate pulls me into his arms and leads me to the dance floor. I don’t even attempt to argue with him. Once again, I’m in his warm embrace. His hands roam my body as we move to the music. My side. My back. My waist. My skin tingles each place he touches, yet somehow, he isn’t touching me enough.
The beat picks up, and so do our movements, blending in with the feeling of Tate’s hands along my flesh. My mind usually likes to come up with every possible worst-case scenario. But as Tate’s body warms mine, I refuse to think of anything besides this moment. The vibration of my body under his delicious touch is enough to make me forget about the world.
“Let me take you home.”
The request seems strange in my hazy mind. I know I’m not capable of driving myself home, but there’s something telling me I should have left with Rayna. Something I’m not sure I should listen to, but as my eyes focus on his serious gaze and firmly set jaw, I’m not so sure I should continue to relax and go with the flow. But even through my unease, I want to trust him.
Chapter 5
Tate
Joyisfuckinggorgeous.And fun. I can’t remember the last time I went out and spent most of the night on the dance floor. The second Gray and I walked into the bar, it felt like everyone stopped to stare at us like they’d never seen two cowboys walk into a bar before. Everyone except Joy and Rayna. As soon as I spotted her in the middle of the dance floor, it was painfully obvious that I wasn’t the only man who noticed her. So, I did the only thing I could. I danced with her.
