"I suggest you take that hat off her head. Now."
When Graham hesitates, Trouble plucks the hat off me himself and shoves it into Graham’s chest.
Cold. Sharp.
"No way in fuck is that happening."
There’s something about the way he stands there—shoulders squared, confident like he doesn’t just take up space, he owns every inch of it. It’s not just possessiveness;it’s his presence. And maybe I shouldn’t like it, but the way that power rolls off him? It makes me want him, to feel something I’ve been trying so hard not to feel.
Heat flares in Graham's cheeks as he steps forward. "We were-–" he starts. But Trouble doesn’t move. He doesn’t need to.
“Pay attention,” he says, too calmly. “There’s nowe. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay the fuck out of my way.”
I can tell that in his eyes, he knows to back down. We all do, in this small town where everyone knows who he is. Trouble is stronger, taller. His reputation walks into a room before he does, and the rest of him follows—the set of his jaw, the dangerous stare, and that damn toothpick between his lips that somehow saysdon’t try melouder than any words ever could.
So Graham doesn’t say a word. He swallows whatever retort had been thinking of, and I can almost see the calculations running through his mind—the risk.
"Come," Trouble commands as he leads me away from the dance floor. He doesn't look back, but I can feel his energy. The noise fades behind us, replaced by darkness. The air gets cooler, the scent of old leather and old, lost items is lingering in the small coat room. And I know it—I've hit the nerve I was hoping for. This is exactly what I wanted. Right?
He steps closer, eyes narrowing, jaw tight. “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you for your brother. What do I look like letting some man think he can claim you… and take you back to the ranch? Not happening.”
I tilt my head, smirking. “Relax, I wasn’t about to let him take me home. My daddy always said the only thing you bring back from a bar is a headache and a problem you didn’t ask for.”
Troubles gaze locks onto mine. "What were you tryin’ to do out there?"
I suck in a breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I continue to stare him down.
"I’ll tell you when you tell me the truth," I demand, losing all sense of the calm I'm struggling to maintain. "I know what you did for my daddy. I wanna know why."
The distance between us is shrinking. Each inhale brings me closer to his incredible scent. Each exhale could brush his lips if he moved just an inch. There's something terrifying and exhilarating about this balance, knowing one move could send us tumbling into chaos.
Trouble closes the distance between us. His breath brushes my ear as he growls, “You know why.”
I don’t flinch. Instead, I challenge him. “Then say it.”
My heart pounds like a drum in my chest—loud, relentless, begging him to give in, to drop the walls between us. This is almost unbearable, this razor-thin line between wanting and holding back.
His eyes lock on mine. They’re dark, molten, burning with something fierce, threatening to pull me under, to drown me in all the things I’m terrified to admit I want. Everything else falls away—the world outside, the noise, the rules. Here, in the dark, it’s just us. Nothing to hide behind.
"It fucked me up to see you upset,” he admits.
“Why? Why did you care?”
“Fuck. You know why. I want you, Sawyer. And before you get any ideas. Not in a good way. In a really bad way, a really fucking sinful way that I shouldn’t. But I can't have you. And it’s tearing me apart because... I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. It’s taking everything in me to be good."
My heart stutters. The man before me, my older brother’s best friend, this powerful man wants me with an intensitythat's nearly wrecking me. He’s not the smart-mouthed, cocky man he usually is. He’s different right now.
"Was that you?" I breathe out. "During the blind kiss auction... Did you kiss me?"
His eyes smolder as he towers over me. His arm lifts, and his hand curls around a metal bar above me. His jaw is a line of tension, every muscle tight, ready to snap. And then, his voice breaks as he changes the subject completely.
"I wanna talk about that hat and what you did. You had to go there?"
Heat flushes my cheeks as I tilt my head back to meet his stare, smirking more from the tequila that has now settled in my blood stream. "So the rumors are true? You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy?"
His jaw ticks, a visible countdown of restraint. Once, twice, then almost a third time—each twitch a silent drumbeat in the tense air between us.
"You grew up here," he finally responds. "You know the answer to that."
