I can almost hear the nag that’s about to come out of her mouth before she says it.
"Why are we here? Is this what you do for fun? Sit around and watch barns burn down?"
I watch as she questions Knox. The city girl—so polished and put-together, like she walked straight out of some rooftop cocktail bar. She’s outta place here, like she took a wrong turn and accidentally ended up in this small town that runs on ranchers, gossip, and coffee from the local gas station. The firelight dances in her eyes, casting them in different shades of blue that change with each flicker, giving away some of that curiosity beneath her skepticism.
"Beats the hell outta sitting in silence with you and Daddy," Knox says, under his breath.
"Well, that's because Daddy is stubborn as hell," she shoots back. "And it’s getting worse with age."
Knox's chuckle rolls out, low and knowing as he eyes his sister. "Yeah, well, you're just as stubborn."
Knox pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers a call, and Sawyer heads my way. I grab a beer out of the cooler and with a quick twist, the cap surrenders with a satisfying hiss. Just as the bottle is on the edge of my lips, Sawyer's hand intercepts its path.
"I'll take this," she demands, the beer captured between our fingers for a moment.
"Most women say 'please' around here," I reply with a smirk, letting her take the bottle. I should be pissed. Hertaking something that’s mine puts her in the same damn category as The Kennedys… But why does that smirk of hers make me want to pin her against my truck instead?
"Well, I'm not most women," she retorts, taking a confident sip. Her lips curve into a smile that's almost flirtatious. "And I take it you aren't most men, seeing as how most men usually don’t grope a stranger then throw a drink on her when she declines his advances."
I lean back against the tailgate, rubbing the side of my chin before I grab myself a new beer. I don’t hesitate to open it and throw half the bottle back because here we fucking go with this again.
"Never gonna live that one down, am I?"
"I'd need a few more of these before I start to forget that one, cowboy," she says, tilting the bottle at me.
"I don't think you can even handle the beer you got, city girl."
There's a dance we're doing here, almost like we’re circling each other carefully, each of us locked and loaded, safety off, eyes on our targets. Both of us are daring the other to strike first, drawn in by the excitement of the game.
"Please," she fires back. "I'd have you spending the night on the bathroom floor trying to keep up with me."
Shit. It’s not good that she’s mouthy, sexy as fuck, and completely out of line. Someone better take this drink from me because I can’t stop staring at her pink, glossy lips. They’re parted just slightly in a way that makes me imagine the taste of her. The way she’d feel if her mouth wrapped around my cock, slick and wet, her tongue workin’ me like she had to prove she could outdo anyone who came before her.
And then there’s her tits. Jesus Christ, her tits. They’re fucking perky, pressing against her top like they’re begging tobe set free. The outline of her nipples is faint, but it's there, just hard enough to make my mouth water. I want to sink my teeth into them, bite and suck until she’s moaning, until she’s begging me to stop and then begging me not to. And fuck, I’m officially a piece of shit. If Knox knew the thoughts running through my head right now, he’d put me outta my misery. Maybe it’s the shot of whiskey I had earlier talkin’, maybe it’s just me being weak. Either way, I’ve got no business seeing her like this. She’s off fucking limits, and I damn well know it.
I let a slow grin stretch across my face—all confidence with no apologies. "Who said anything about keepin' up? Maybe I'm just here for the show."
"Sounds like a tap-out to me—what do y’all think?" she drawls, tossing the words over her shoulder like bait. Her eyes sparkle, full of mischief.
"She’s right. That’s a tap-out," Charming chimes in, all too eager to sell me out, being the full traitorous brother that he is.
I watch Sawyer laugh. It’s a genuine laugh for the first time as her and Charming exchange a fist bump and bond over giving me shit. Heat travels down my body and somethin’ below my belt stirs, awakens. I take in the way her blonde hair barely falls over her tanned shoulders, how her tight outfit has a way of showing off those curves of hers.
"Fuck, Trouble," I warn myself silently. "Don’t play with that fire."
Knox is already makin’ his way over, watchin’ her close, like he always does. Man’s got that brotherly guard-dog thing down, I'll give him that. He’s a walking reminder of the boundaries I can’t cross. I straighten up, hoping that no one can see how damn hard I am right now.
"Sorry about anything she says tonight," Knox interjects,grabbing himself a beer. "Know she’s not your biggest fan, and you can probably tell, but I’ve spent a lot of years apologizing for that one."
"That don’t surprise me one bit," I say, as she tilts back the bottle. It's a sight, watching her drink down the beer with ease—it don’t make any damn sense. Martinis in some sleek high-rise that don’t list their drink prices on the menu? That seems more her style.
She spins on her heel, liquid courage adding a spark to her eyes. "I heard that," she fires back.
"I know," I say, taking a slow sip. "Just didn't care."
She purses her lips, putting one hand on her hip. "What is this anyway?" she asks, her head tilting slightly as she takes in the scene. "You guys burning some old barn and rebuilding?"
“Not exactly,” I chuckle, the words barely out of my mouth before my brothers start shifting on their feet, fighting back laughs. Their crooked grins say it all, and they’re doing a piss-poor job of hiding it.
