I don’t let him finish whatever it was he was going to say. I'm done with this conversation. Done letting him and Kyle sully a night out. And I'm absolutely done letting Wes stand there and stare daggers at Landon when he could be out on the dance floor with me.
I stalk past Landon and grab a fistful of Wes’ T-shirt, pulling him with a force that leaves no room for hesitation. He doesn't resist, his body following me like he's been waiting for this moment. Like he needs this as much as I do.
I drag him onto the dance floor, where the music is loud and the heat of bodies and the dim glow of neon swallow us whole. Where Landon ceases to exist, fading into the background like the insignificant mistake he is. Here it's just me and Wes. I finally allow myself to touch him like I've been dying to, slowly surrendering to the delicious tension that's been crackling between us for weeks.
And thank God. Because if I'm spending my night arguing with anyone, it sure as hell isn't going to be my ex-husband.
Dirty Promises
Wes
What the fuck was she doing talking to her asshole of an ex-husband?
My hand strangles the neck of the bottle of beer I’m holding, wishing it washisneck. I see him step closer to her, and I’m out of my seat before Allie and Tripp know what’s happening.
Luckily for Landon, Tripp grips my shoulder and pulls me back before I can get my hands on him. “What the hell are you doing, Wes?”
My gaze swings to Tripp, and I want to throttle him for keeping me from making sure Sawyer's alright. Every inch of me is itching for a fight. I want to put Sawyer's ex on the ground for even thinking he has the right to talk to her now. “I’m just making sure he’s not bothering Sawyer.” I mean for my tone to be offhanded so he’ll let mego, but it comes out as a growl and Tripp’s fingers dig into my shoulder, making me hiss out a breath.
“You remember he owns half the town, right?”
The Prescotts have been here just as long as the Dawsons, but unlike ranching, their hold on the only bank in town has spared them all the ups and downs. With their steady wealth and control over local finances, they’ve been afforded quite a bit of influence in Cottonwood Creek.
“Like I give a fuck,” I seethe. But I’m held in place when Sawyer’s eyes find me over Landon’s shoulder. She takes me in with wide eyes for just a moment before she smirks and gives me a subtle shake of her head.
My heart is pounding, and I’m dying to see him bleed, but I know what that look means. It means she can take care of herself. And damnit, I love that about her. Still, the adrenaline thrums through my veins refuses to settle, even though I can see she's handling herself just fine.
I shift from one foot to another and my pulse thunders in my ears, a restless energy burning through me like a wildfire. I'm seconds from tearing out of Tripp's solid grip when Sawyer marches over, grabs my T-shirt and drags me toward the crowded dance floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, shouting in her ear to be heard over the music.
She looks gorgeous tonight with her hair down and curled and a navy dress that makes her eyes look as bottomless as the deepest parts of the ocean. It has lace along the hem at the bottom and flares out when she spins. I want nothing more in this moment than to put my Stetson on her head and claim her right here and now for everyone to see.
“Making sure you don’t get kicked out of the only decent bar in a thirty-mile radius.”I give a derisive snort and she laughs at me. “Come on, cowboy. Show me all your best moves,” she says, gesturing to the dance floor.
I don’t miss the fact she didn’t use her usual nickname for me, and something about the sultry way she said the word cowboy has my pulse spiking.
I lean down and press my lips close to her ear. “This cowboy reserves all his best moves for behind closed doors, but I can show you those later if you want, Red.”
Her cheeks go the prettiest shade of red, like she’s been out in the sun a little too long and it’s kissed her cheeks just enough to tinge her skin. She stares at my mouth like she can’t believe what she heard and her tongue darts out to wet her lips, but she doesn’t say a word.
I’ve struck her speechless which is a feat in and of itself, but if I stand here another second with those wide eyes on me and her mouth parted in a shocked expression, I’m going to do something I might regret later—even more than the suggestive remark I just made—so I grab her wrist and pull her onto the dance floor instead of pressing my lips to hers the way I'm dying to.
My hand slides over her lower back, and I hum along to the music, giving her a minute to recover as we dance together. She’s gone quiet on me, but she doesn’t avoid my gaze as we dance. Her eyes settle on mine, a fire burning behind them, waiting to incinerate me. The tension between us is palpable, but I can’t stand the silence. It only makes me want to slam my mouth to hers to find out exactly what she tastes like, what sounds she'd make when she's wrapped up in me.
“You thinking about all the moves I promised to show you later?” I ask, dying to know what’s going through her head.
“And inflate that overly large ego of yours?” she scoffs. “I don’t think so.”
“I think you’re lying,” I murmur, my voice turning to gravel as her skin brushes against mine. The contact is brief, but it sends a jolt of heatscorching through me like a trail of flame burning through the treeline, a wildfire spreading unchecked.
She tilts her head, and her lips curve into a knowing smile. “I’ll never tell.”
Her eyes light up brighter than the city lights I’ve always been so fond of. She puts the beauty of the city to shame, and just like that, I'm helpless to resist. As the song shifts to something slow, a familiar southern twang playing through the speakers, I pull her closer, unable to help myself.
She tenses for a moment at the intimate press of our bodies, her spine stiff against my hold, but as the chorus rolls in, she relaxes and melts into me. I tighten my grip, my hand splaying against the small of her back, savoring the way she fit against me as we sway in time with the music.
“You called me cowboy,” I note, wanting her to keep talking.
