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I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Aren’t we all?” I counter, hiding behind sarcasm again.
But he sees right through it, his gaze never wavering.
“Maybe,” he concedes. “But not everyone’s got your fire.” There’s admiration in his voice, a note that strums along my spine, making it hard to stay indifferent.
“Fire can be dangerous,” I murmur, turning my back to him as I restock glasses, trying to ignore the heat that flares up at his proximity.
“Only if you get too close,” he replies, his voice a temptingly soft caress against the shell of my ear.
“Then maybe you should keep your distance,” I suggest, my words aiming for stern, but they waver, betraying the flutter in my stomach.
“Maybe,” he agrees, there’s a challenge in his tone that tells me he has no intention of backing off. “But where’s the fun in that?”
I want to argue, to tell him that ‘fun’ isn’t worth the risk, but the laughter in his eyes is infectious, and for a fleeting moment, I allow myself to enjoy it, to enjoy him. It’s a lapse, a crack in my armor, and part of me knows it’s a mistake.
“Life’s too short for caution, sweetheart,” he continues, leaning back now, giving me room to breathe even as his presence seems to fill up the space.
“Maybe for you,” I reply, finding my footing again, though it feels like walking a tightrope. “I’ve got too much to lose.”
“Ah.” He nods, understanding flickering across his face. “Family? Dreams?”
“Both,” I confess, and then curse myself for it.
This isn’t a man you give pieces of yourself to, he’s the kind who takes whole chunks, leaving you to pick up the scattered remains.
“Respectable,” he acknowledges, lifting his glass in a silent salute. “Here’s to dreams and family, then. May they never weigh you down.”
“Cheers,” I echo, tapping my own glass against his, the clear ring of crystal sounding like a warning bell in my head.
“Cheers,” I repeat silently, trying to steady the rush of blood in my ears, the traitorous desire to lean in, to share more than just a drink with Texas the man who’s somehow become the most dangerous thing in this gritty little bar.
“Who’s the new guy?” a regular, Joe, asks with a nod towards Texas. His voice holds an edge, like a knife flirting with the idea of a cut.
“Not new. He passes through from time to time,” I reply, keeping my tone noncommittal.
But I can see the way their gazes linger, how they size him up, comparing worn boots and faded tattoos. They’re curious, alright, about him, a man who doesn’t fit their mold, who commands the space without saying a word.
“Looks like trouble,” another mutters, Dale, sipping his beer with a scowl. “Bet he thinks he owns the place.”
“Maybe,” I say, but my mind snags on the ‘trouble’ part. “Seems to me he’s just enjoying the music,” I add, more to myself than anyone else.
My fingers twitch, itching to pour another drink, to do something, anything to ease the restless energy bubbling within me.
“Jane,” Texas calls, and there’s a lilt in his voice that sends shivers down my spine. “How about playing something with a little more... soul?”
“Sure thing,” I reply, fighting back the smile that threatens to break free.
I select a song, something slow and sultry, and the opening bars fill the room, smooth as honey and twice as sweet.
I glance over at Texas. He’s watching me, a knowing look in those blue depths, and it’s like he sees straight through to the core of me.
“Nice choice,” he says, and there’s an invitation in his gaze that has my heart hammering against my ribcage. “You’ve got good taste.”
“Thanks,” I manage, feeling heat creep into my cheeks.
“Hey, Tex!” a voice booms from the other end of the bar. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“Adventure,” he replies simply, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “And maybe a bit of destiny.”
