The fireworks give way to wolf whistles and thoughts of dragging her out of here and throwing her in the back of my truck. I swear I hold the county record on how fast a man canpull jeans off a woman, but this time I’d take my time. Slow it down. Strip her down piece by piece, unveiling every creamy inch of skin I’ve never let myself touch.
“Jesus, get a room, would you?”
Frankie’s bellow interrupts the best kiss I’ve ever had, and I swear to all things holy, it takes every ounce of restraint I have—not that there’s much to begin with—to not snap her head off. Frankie has always pushed my buttons in a way that makes me wish she was a boy so I could tackle her and not feel badly about it.
Shelby breaks away from me, her hand going to her mouth. Her big blue eyes are blinking rapidly like she got something stuck in them. The girls grab her and push her over to their table while the band switches to another upbeat line dance. I’m left standing on the dance floor—indecently turned on—with no idea what the hell just happened. Shelby hauls herself into a barstool and puts an ice-cold beer bottle to her cheek.
I start grinning like a fool. I mean, I knew we got along, but until that explosive kiss, I didn’t realize we’re also compatible sexually. I’ve always known I’m all wrong for Shelby, and quite frankly, all that romance bullshit irritates me to no end, so it’s been easy to stay away from her. There are too many non-difficult women I could be dating to waste my time trying to be the man Shelby wants. But hell, maybe we could have some fun while we fake this engagement, you know? I’m always up for a good time.
Which to my mind means more of those kisses. I can find her a good man who’ll do all the stupid gestures she’s hung up on. Then we’ll go back to being best friends. Fuck yeah. This is a great idea.
I waltz off the dance floor and head straight for a table in the back, four men around it nursing their beers. I recognize oneguy from Hornville. David, I think his name is. They look up as I approach, their conversation dying.
“Hey, David, how’s it going?”
The familiar guy gives me a cool smile. “It’s Davis, actually. And it’s going good. How ’bout you?”
Davis, David, whatever. I only have so many brain cells. I need to reserve them to remember the ladies’ names.
“Good, man. Introduce me to your friends?” I smile winningly at the three other guys, sizing them up and zeroing in on the one with a plaid shirt and fancy jeans. He’s got black-rimmed glasses that he might use for reading novels or poems or shit like that. He’s introduced as Judson. His handshake is firm but not too firm. He’s confident, not easily intimidated. So far so good.
After we chit-chat for a bit and I find out he’s single, I invite him over to meet my sisters. He follows me over to the girls’ table. I make sure he stands right next to Shelby as I make the introductions. I watch the way he’s polite with all of them but think maybe I catch him eyeing Shelby a bit longer than the rest. If she’d quit smirking at me, she might notice Judson is good-looking. I mean, he’s not as good-looking as me, but if he can pen a kickass love letter, she can overlook it.
Before I can get too far into the possible match-up, David comes over and tells Judson they have to leave. I try not to be irritated that he and Shelby didn’t get a chance to exchange numbers. I’ve never been a wing man for a picky girl, but it’s turning out harder than I anticipated.
“See y’all around, Judson. David.” I purposely get his name wrong, and he doesn’t correct me this time.
“I gotta go get Ryder. You comin’?” I ask Shelby. She hesitates.
“No. This was supposed to be a girls’ night. You know? Before you barged in?”
“Sorry ’bout that.” I ain’t actually sorry, but in my experience with women, that’s always what they want to hear. “I’ll see you when you get home. If y’all need a ride, just call me.” I lean in to kiss her cheek, and she lets me, her skin still hot to the touch.
It’s a relief to exit the bar into the cooling night air. Women are impossible to understand. They take perverse pleasure in wrapping us around their little fingers and then tormenting us. I think of all the years Pops has been grieving over Momma, and I have to shake my head to clear it of any stupid ideas. Women are fun for a while, but I have no intention of getting that wrapped up in one. Whatever that shit was with Shelby on the dance floor, I’ll just have to blame it on the two beers I had. Maybe I’m turning into a lightweight the older I get.
My boots crunch on the dirt parking lot, sounding loud in the sudden quiet outside the bar. D’Wayne, the local man who refuses to move out of his van despite the town donating a tiny house to him, interrupts the quiet. “Woman troubles?”
He’s sitting on the ground with his back to a tree, a perfect perch for watching who goes in and out of Knockin’ Boots. I lift my hand in greeting. “Nah. Just pacing myself.”
D’Wayne smirks. “Never thought I’d see the day Dallas Gamble paces himself with the ladies.”
I shake my head. “We all gotta grow up sometime.”
I reach my truck door and unlock it. D’Wayne waves his hand through the air. “That’s where you’re wrong, Gamble! Never grow up! All the world is made of faith and trust and pixie dust!”
Ignoring the town Peter Pan, I climb inside my truck and get the bright idea to call Houston while I drive back to the ranch. I hit his contact number and set the phone on speaker.
“What?”
I chuckle at his greeting. “Did you know there’s a theory that one twin can suck up all the good personality away from the other twin in utero?”
“Fuck off,” Houston growls, ever the grump. “I assume you called for something more than a science lesson?”
“I’m doing fine, thanks for asking. Been thinking about you every day and just couldn’t rest ’til I heard your sweet voice, brother dearest.”
There’s a pause. So, I up the ante.
“I just saw Josie Mae. That woman knows how to rock a pair of jeans, I’m just sayin’.”
