Betty was a popular girl back in school. Every guy wanted her, but she only ever had eyes for the one person who never saw her. It’s a shame how often we can miss a good thing right in front of us. Then again, enough of an age gap will do that.
“Here ya go.”
“Thanks.” I raise the glass, immediately taking three large gulps before lowering it back to the counter. I’m going to need it to stomach tonight. Where the hell is this Joy girl, anyhow?
“You betcha.” The words trailing behind her as she scoots down to the other end of the bar, doling out drinks to thirsty cowboys and smiling women.
I’m three drinks in when the front door flies open, and the entire bar seems to go quiet. Looking around, I immediately spot Grayson and his brother, Tate. It’s clear the two have been bickering; same as they did all night. The rodeo is small when it comes to drama.
I can’t help but rake my eyes down Grayson’s tall but solid frame. Toned long legs. Veined forearms that peek out under the rolled-up sleeves of his plaid button-down. And that fucking hat flipped backward on his head with those thick curls swooping out at the bottom.
The place seems to freeze as the brothers continue walking side by side. They’re not speaking, but you can feel the tension radiating off them. Then Grayson’s eyes meet mine. His path adjusted to walk straight up to me.
Without a word, he slips onto the empty stool to my left, waving two fingers at Betty. She tips her head but doesn’t come to ask what he wants. No doubt, a man like him comes here often only to leave with a different girl on his arm each time.
“Well, someone knows how to make an entrance,” I smirk, taking another gulp of my drink.
“You noticed, didn’t you?”
I’m not sure what he means by that. Everyone noticed him and his brother walk in together. The two are almost carbon copies. Tate is just slightly taller, with slightly longer hair. A little more beard. A little more girth.
“Heard your hand held up tonight. Face still looks like shit, though.”
His hand opens atop the bar, closing around the beer bottle Betty slides down its length to him. I can only watch as his eyes stay focused on me, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and then down with his swallow.
“Hurts like a bitch, though.”
A snort leaves me. “Told you to go get an X-ray.”
His long fingers twirl the bottle in a tight circle. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
“I’m calling bullshit. I already know you’re going to ride tomorrow.”
“And you would let someone tell you ‘No, River. Don’t doctor tomorrow.’”
My brow scrunches low as I look over at him, suddenly feeling naked. It’s as if he pinpointed one of my greatest insecurities without trying.
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“Thought so,” he winks, taking another slug of his beer. “Let’s start over.”
Turning to face him, his knees spread, allowing my legs to sit between his. They don’t touch, but I swear I can feel the heat radiating off of him.
Stop it, River. He’s just a hot guy. Pull yourself together.
Extending my hand in his direction, I wait for him to take mine. A callused palm slides against my skin. His grip firm. Most men shake my hand as if they’ll shatter every bone. I’m a curvy girl, there’s no breaking me.
“Grayson Garrison. Or Gray, if you prefer.”
“Doctor River Thompson.”
He only snorts. “I already know you’re a doctor. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
My head cocks to the side, studying him. Is he a wizard? I swear he can see right through me.
“Right. Well, when you’re not punching walls or getting knocked out by your brother or riding those death animals, what do you do?”
“First off, Tate didn’t knock me out. Not even close.”
