Right. I rolled my neck, trying to release the tension, and opened the truck door. Cash all but bounced beside me as the four of us made our way toward the entrance.
The place was dim inside, save for the dancefloor lit up by blue-hued lights. People hung out at the multiple bars strewn throughout the place, while others stood around in the back left corner, cheering on those drunk or dumb enough to brave riding the mechanical bull. A large number two-stepped across the dancefloor. Some country song drifted through the dancehall. I didn’t know the name of it, but I’m sure Cash did. He listened to all that new shit.
We ambled through the throng of people, my nerves coiling tighter and tighter. Crowded spaces always made me feel uncomfortable.
A familiar smokey and feminine voice drew my gaze, sending a trickle of relief through me. “Hey y’all!”
Cheyenne's bright smile rivaled Cash’s in its intensity. Her pale blonde hair bounced all the way down to her hips in wild ringlets. And those eyes… Like twin chunks of turquoise, they bore into me as she met my stare.
She reminded me of wildflowers and whiskey. Gorgeous and wild and potentially trouble. The harsh blue lighting did little to wash out her sun-kissed tan, which paired well with the bright pink denim flares she wore along with a white cropped tank top that hugged her chest.
I’d never met anyone as confident to wear the things she did, save Cash. The two possessed a confidence I’d never know. And like twin rays of sunlight, it felt like the entire bar was drawn to them. Eyes scanned us from all around, taking us all in with their veiled scrutiny. Probably wondering what the hell I was doing in the mix. Ryder and Charlie held a light, a pull, a magnetism all their own, the most intriguing blend of western and edgy with Ryder’s cowboy getup and Charlie’s tattoos.
Which left me, a shadow, a stain of darkness among the group. I didn’t belong. That much was clear.
I didn’t drink, but, fuck, the thought of something right now to drown out my nerves almost sounded tempting. Almost.
But the group would all be dancing soon enough, leaving me to disappear among the shadows, just the way I preferred. My lips curled, my prediction correct as Charlie and Ryder strode for the dancefloor after a quick hello to Cheyenne, while Cash did a slow turn, taking in the dancehall, his gaze landing on a group of girls there for a bachelorette party—by the looks of their matching outfits.
Oh, dear Lord, he’d have fun with them. With a knowing grin aimed my way, he strode for their table.
“How’s it goin’, Maverick?” Cheyenne’s bright eyes pegged me in place.
I fidgeted under her stare. Cheyenne Harris intrigued me about as much as she terrified me. She held a predatory grace and charm that left the fearful, quiet side of me trembling in my boots. I’d goneup against men twice my size, come out on top, but I’d bet this five-foot something spitfire could bring a man to his knees with little more than a smile.
I thought of what happened earlier with Ashleigh. Of what today meant to me. A million different horrible thoughts flashed through my mind even as I lifted my shoulders in a simple shrug as I answered her question. “I’m alive. And you, Miss Cheyenne?”
She scrunched her nose up at the formality. “Just Cheyenne, please. I’m definitely no miss.”
My lips quirked in the corner. “Alright. How’s it goin’, Cheyenne?”
Her shoulders mirrored mine in a matching shrug, but the smile on her face, the glow in her eyes was pure mischief. “Oh, you know, just caught this guy I was seein’ cheatin’ on me this mornin’.”
“Well, damn. I’m sorry.” Why anyone would cheat on her was beyond me. Girl was gorgeous. Beyond, really. A girl like her wasn’t meant to be hurt, she should be treasured.
She lifted a single shoulder. “Eh, it’s okay. I chased his sorry ass off with a cattle prod. You should have seen the asshole’s face.”
I coughed, blinking back my surprise. “You what?”
She repeated herself, her voice light, her demeanor open and casual—as if chasing people with cattle prods was an everyday thing. It might be for her. Barrel racers were their own brand of crazy, and I’d heard stories of Cheyenne.
I couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped me as I shook my head.
Her brows furrowed, the light in her eyes dimming as she crossed her arms over her chest, her lips dipping down into a frown. “What’s so funny?”
I held up my hands in a placating gesture. “I just like the confidence, is all.”
“Oh.” Her features softened, just like the anger replaced with intrigue. “Charlie said you weren’t comin’ earlier, what made you change your mind?”
A part of me was tempted to say something about Ashleigh, to vent to someone other than Ryder or Cash about my situation. Someone who didn’t know our history, our toxic story. But I’d never been good with words or expressing myself or talking in general, so I just shrugged again. “My plans fell through.”
She whistled low, a hint of a smirk lining her plump lips as she pressed a plastic whiskey tumbler to her mouth. “Boy, you always talk this much?”
Dear Lord, she reminded me of Cash with the unabashed level of confidence. I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded once more.
A low chuckle left her. “It’s okay, you don’t need to talk to dance. Come on, cowboy.”
My heart hammered in my chest, my legs seizing up and freezing as if I were stuck in a chunk of ice. I hated crowds, but more than that, I hated dancing. I’d never been good at it. I was too tall. Toolanky. It always felt odd. Robotic. I didn’t have a rhythmic bone in my body.
