I watch him walk back toward the table like he didn’t just upend my entire night.
Like he didn’t just look at me like that.
I stand there in stunned silence for exactly one beat.
Then I stomp after his arrogant ass.
Idon’t know why I’m doing this.
That was the first thought that hit me as I pushed back from the table and followed her across the room, pretending I was just stretching my legs or heading to the bar myself.
She told herself she was just going to the bar because she wanted another drink. She told him that, too, I’m sure. But I saw it for what it was.
She wanted distance.
She doesn’t know it consciously—hell, she might argue with me if I said it out loud—but her body language gave her away. The quickness of her retreat. The way she exhaled once she was a few steps clear of the table. The way she didn’t hurry back to him.
She’s trying to give the guy a chance—I’ll give her that.
God knows she’s trying.
Charli and Harleigh are definitely encouraging the match. I clock them from my peripheral vision as I approach the table again. Harleigh’s leaned in toward the guy, nodding too enthusiastically at something he’s saying. Charli’s smiling, like this is exactly what she hoped would happen tonight.
I can’t imagine why they’d want her to settle for a guy who keeps going on and on about picking rocks out of horses’ hooves when he’s got a beautiful woman sitting beside him.
I mean, damn.
I’ve spent a lot of time around horses. I’ve picked my fair share of rocks out of hooves. I can talk animal care procedures with the best of them. But you don’t lead with that when you’re trying to woo a woman. Not when the woman across from you looks like a whiskey-soaked daydream and you are lucky enough to have her willing to slum it with you in a honky-tonk for the night.
Boring as fuck.
I make a show of setting her drink down in front of her empty chair. Deliberate.
Dick watches, his eyes meeting mine.
His expression shows he’s confused at first—brows pulling together, mouth parting slightly, like he’s about to ask what the hell is happening. Then she comes up behind me and takes her seat, and something clicks.
To his credit, the man’s no dummy.
I see the moment he realizes it.
It’s subtle. A tightening around his eyes. A flicker of irritation he doesn’t quite manage to mask. His jaw shifts. He looks from her to me, then back to her again.
He lost this round.
Not that he was ever in the battle to begin with.
But—again, credit where it’s due—he doesn’t throw in the towel. Doesn’t slouch. Doesn’t sulk. He straightens in his seat, squares his shoulders, and meets my eyes as he reaches and covers Shelby’s hand with his. It’s a subtle move. One she allows as she chats with Royce across the table.
I just lift my glass and tip it toward him.
Not smug. Not aggressive.
Just … an acknowledgment.
The music swells, the band sliding into another song, something with a steady beat that makes the floor vibrate under my boots. Caison’s already standing, shrugging into his jacket, Matty at his side.
“I’m gonna get her home,” he says to the table.
