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"Jagger," a voice booms, cutting through the noise.

I already know who it belongs to without turning around. My brother Mason's got a way of saying my name like it's an accusation. He always has, ever since we were kids and he figured out it annoyed me more than he ever let on.

I glance over my shoulder. My brother's leaning against the far end of the bar, hat pushed back, a beer sweating in one hand, and looking at me with the particular expression he reserves for whenever he thinks I’m in trouble.

"Little busy," I call back.

"I can see that." He pushes off the bar and ambles over anyway, because Mason doesn't take hints. He tips his hat toward Lainey. "Ma'am."

"Mason," Carla's voice interrupts, over her shoulder, already halfway to the dance floor with Troy in tow. "Behave."

"When have I ever not?" Mason calls back, which gets him an eye roll so exaggerated I'm surprised Carla doesn't strain a vein.

I make the introduction, trying to take control of the situation so he doesn't say something about me to make Lainey freak and run. "Lainey, this scoundrel is my brother, Mason."

"Interesting word coming from you," Mason says. He looks at Lainey a beat longer than I'd like, and my jaw tightens before I can stop it. "You're Carla's friend?"

She nods. "Yep."

I step closer to her and pin a stern look on him. "What's going on? You're interrupting our conversation."

Mason nods toward me. "He talk your ear off yet? Fair warning, he doesn't know how to stop once he starts."

"I've noticed," Lainey says, and there's a laugh underneath it. But it's not the kind of laugh she'd give a man she actually wanted.

Annoyed, I ask him, "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"No, but you do." He claps me on the shoulder, hard enough to sting. "Dad called. Said your cattle are about to disappear."

I groan. A small part of the fencing went down. My other brother, Sebastian, called to tell me as I was walking into the saloon. "Tell him I've got it handled."

"From the Red Dirt?"

I firmly state, "Sebastian and Alexander are fixing the fence. Sebastian said there was no need to rush back. So stop getting your panties in a bunch."

Mason studies me a second longer, an unreadable spark flares behind the easy grin he wears for company, then shrugs like it's not his problem to carry. "Your funeral." He tips his hat again toward Lainey. "Nice meeting you. Good luck with this one. But fair warning, he's more trouble than he lets on."

I scowl at him.

"I'll keep that in mind," Lainey says.

Mason wanders off toward the dance floor, already waving at a group of women across the room, and I mutter, "Asshole."

"Fences?" Lainey asks.

"Ranch stuff. Boring." I wave it off, though it settles in my gut. I didn't need Mason's reminder that there's a whole list of things waiting for me come sunup, no matter how good tonight feels.

"Sounds serious," she comments.

I shake my head. "Don't let Mason worry you. He likes making things sound worse than they are. Family trait, apparently."

She doesn't look convinced my ranch issues aren't serious.

I try to steer us back to the version of tonight that doesn't involve my father's voice in my head. "Speaking of trouble, you never did answer my question."

"Which one? You've asked several."

"The important one. Fluke or real shot?"