"Fair enough," I smirk, flickin’ my cheek with my tongue. My gaze drops, nice and slow, taking its sweet time dragging down those legs of hers—toned, sunkissed, and made just tomess with a man’s head—until it lands on those damn boots.
"And you saving those boots too? Or is this a one-night-only type of thing?"
She tips her head back, showing me those ocean eyes beneath her lashes. "Well," she starts, putting a hand on her hip. "My ex hated cowgirl boots, so I think I'll keep wearing them."
Sounds like some asshole clearly unworthy of her if he couldn't appreciate the sight—but from what I’ve gathered, he didn’t treat her right either.
"Sounds like a damn fool." The words slip out, but I don't regret it.
"Excuse me?"
All eyes are on us, the whole damn bar straining to catch the exchange between Sawyer and me. But I don’t give them the show they’re dying for. I lean in, close enough for only her to hear.
“You in those boots? Let’s just say I ain’t been right since you walked in. Whatever your ex missed, baby, the rest of us see loud and clear.”
I tilt my chin toward the guys nearby, still buzzing from her little bull-riding stunt. Before she can fire back, a slurred voice cuts through the moment.
“You’re the prettiest thing we’ve seen in this bar all night.”
Sawyer offers a small, uneven smile. Her shoulders tense, and she takes a barely noticeable step back, as if distance could make the moment less uncomfortable.
I stiffen, jaw locking. The drunk who's been gawking at her all evening is pressin’ up on her, and I’m this close to showing him what happens when you disrespect a womanin front of me. Then Knox steps up, his voice low, rough with warnin’.
"Pal, you're about to have a pretty, new shiner on that eye of yours if you don't turn back around and walk back to where you came from."
"Hey man, I was just trying to get to know her," he protests, hands raised in a gesture that's part surrender, part plea.
Rogue and Danger materialize at my sides like shadows—silent, watchful, ready. The man clocks it instantly. His eyes cut to me, then to them, tracking the shift as we close in.
I lift the edge of my shirt, slow and deliberate—just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the steel tucked into my waistband. Not a threat. A fucking promise.
His eyes go wide.
He knows now.
You don’t walk away from men like us. You might crawl, if you’re lucky.
"Alright, alright, forget it then," he mumbles, then stumbles backward, finally retreating back to where he came from.
Knox puffs up, yelling after him, “That’s what I thought. Y’all don’t wanna test me when it comes to my sister.”
He doesn’t even realize it wasn’t his words that made the guy bail—it was the quiet threat we made with a single gesture.
There's something in the way he says ”my sister” though—possessive, protective—that sobers me up real quick. For a moment, I almost forgot that the girl with the fiery spirit and cowgirl boots was off-limits. The girl who had everyone's attention tonight was Knox's sister—my best friend'sveryoff-limits sister.
"Knox," Sawyer hisses, "that guy seemed harmless. Backin the city, I've taken down bigger men with my nearly-empty Prada bag."
Knox, though, isn't having any of it.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Don't tell me that," he finally says. The lines around his eyes tighten just enough to show his concern. "Matter of fact, I'm takin’ you home."
"Not yet," Sawyer argues. "I need another drink. You're welcome to wait for me until I'm done." She doesn't wait for a response, just pivots on the heel of those cowgirl boots and strides away.
Knox watches her go. "I swear to God," he lets out a breath. "If any asshole in this town tries to pull anything?—"
My hand clamps down on his shoulder, cutting him short. "We got your back," I assure him. "We won't let anything happen to her."
Knox's hand lands on my back, giving me a solid pat. "Glad you got my back, brother.”
