“What happened to not bein’ late?”
Brantley shrugged. “I will always choose gettin’ you naked over anything on the calendar.”
Reese laughed, just as Brantley’d hoped he would. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”
“Says the man who raced me back to the house this mornin’ in order to get a blowjob.”
“It’s not my fault you’re slower than I am.”
Brantley smirked. “Yes. I’m slower.”
Granted, he had been this morning. By design. Hell, it had been the very reason he’d wagered that the first one back to the house would get a blowjob in the shower. Brantley had purposely slowed his stride because getting Reese off was not something he could pass up.
“You didn’t do that on purpose,” Reese accused, pulling back and squinting at Brantley. “I know you didn’t.”
Brantley kept grinning.
“You cheated.”
“If it bothers you that much…” Brantley reached for the button on his jeans, willing to let Reese return the favor right here, right now.
Reese stopped him, but he did manage to cop a feel, sending Brantley’s heart rate into overdrive.
“You could keep doin’ that,” Brantley rasped, loving the way Reese rubbed one knuckle over his rapidly thickening cock.
“We don’t wanna be late, do we?”
“I don’t know.” He leaned in. “Do we?”
This time, Reese’s laugh echoed through the kitchen as he pulled away. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he had stopped worrying about shit he had no business worrying about. The rings would not disappear on them before the wedding. He knew that as sure as he knew his own name.
“Come on, Navy boy. Don’t wanna be late.”
As he was walking out the door, Brantley made a mental note to find those rings before Reese had a chance to panic again. Another thing he knew with certainty was that he didn’t put them in the safe. They were in a little box—evidently hidden well—somewhere in the kitchen.
They had to be.
***
Reese walked into Moonshiners, grinning like afool. He didn’t even care because it was possible half the town had shown up to celebrate their last days as single men. That or they came because there was a rumor that it was an open bar. Either way, the place was packed, and there wasn’t a single stranger in the bunch.
It was kind of incredible, really. He’d been to this bar many times, but never had he seen it decked out quite like this. They’d turned the usual down-home country bar into the equivalent of a 6thStreet nightclub, complete with a stage and a band.
Nix that. This wasn’t a band. It was…
He grabbed Brantley’s wrist. “Holy shit. That’s Cooper Krenshaw and Dalton Calhoun.”
“And they are?”
Reese’s head snapped around, his eyes slamming into Brantley. “Are you—”
Brantley laughed. “Kidding. Jesus. Of course, I know who they are. They work at that little bar. The Rusty Nail, I think it’s called.”
Reese’s eyes widened in disbelief, and Brantley barked a laugh.
“Fuck. I’m jokin’, Reese. They’re country music royalty. If I had to guess, Cheyenne Montgomery’s around here somewhere.”
The air seeped out of his lungs as he looked back at the stage to see Cooper and Dalton laughing with Braydon and Brendon Walker. Brantley was likely correct since Cheyenne—known to the country music world as the West Texas Princess—was married to Brendon Walker, and when she wasn’t on tour, she resided right here in Coyote Ridge with her husband and their two boys, Remington and Thad.
