Page 43 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I glanced over to where Harleigh was leaning against Dalton, giggling as he guided her hand on the pool stick.

I turned back to Gatlin. “Are you drunk?”

He shook his head. “No ma’am.”

“Can you take us home?”

He glanced over my head, to where Harleigh was way too close to Dalton at this point, and nodded. “Sure thing.”

“But I need a favor,” I asked, still refusing to look behind me where I could quite literally feel Beau’s eyes piercing the back of my head.

“What’s that?”

“We have to piss him off a little.”

Gatlin held up his hands. “Whoa. Whoa.”

“Come on,” I whined. “He’ll be so angry, and then maybe he’ll get off my back if he thinks I’m over it.”

Gatlin looked behind me again to where I presumed Beau was glaring.

“Come on . . .”

A knowing smile tugged at Gatlin’s mouth.

“Alright then,” he said, leaning down so his face was right next to mine.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

This was reckless. Completely ridiculous. I wasn’t thinking about the dirt on his collar or the germs from his breath this close to my face. All I was focused on was irritating Beau, making it clear that I didn’t need him chasing me into the parking lot when I broke down.

I didn’t need him trying to fix me or hold me together. What we’d had was fun and games, but it had come to an end. If this pushed the point home, so be it.

I wasn’t into Gatlin either. Sure, his eyes were pretty, and he smelled good, but the truth was, I couldn’t get Beau out of my head. Maybe that was why I wanted to punish him even more—to shake him loose from whatever hold he had on me.

Harleigh hooted from behind me, and I pulled away and grabbed her arm, pushing Dalton away.

“Hey!” She protested.

“Gatlin’s taking us home,” I announced, my arm still looped through Gatlin’s as I turned toward the door.

That’s when I caught Beau’s expression—his jaw clenched, eyes dark, looking like a cartoon character ready to explode, steam practically coming out of his ears.

“The hell he is,” he growled, stepping forward.

“Why the heck not?” I pouted, pushing my bottom lip out, still clutching onto Gatlin for support.

Beau slammed his pool stick onto the table and closed the distance between us in three long strides. His voice dropped to a low rumble. “Stop sticking those pretty red lips out unless you’re planning to show me what they look like wrapped around my cock.”

That was the problem. The second he spoke to me like that, I felt it—the tingling heat that spread through me.

I forced myself to stand my ground. “Sorry, Beau,” I said, playfully slapping his chest. “Gatlin’s taking that job tonight.”

I pushed past him, Harleigh on one side, laughing at how furious he looked, and Gatlin steadying me on the other. As we reached the door, a strong hand gripped my arm, yanking me backward.

The world tilted sideways, and I squealed as I realized what was happening. Beau had thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down,” I yelled, pounding my fists against his back.