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“That boy is lucky he disappeared when he did,” he growled, confusing me for a moment because I’d forgotten all about the guy I’d just been dancing with. I’d forgotten everything except for Gray and his pull on me.
“Oh yeah? Why do you say that?”
He pushed me back against the wall with nothing but his raw energy. Leaning down, he whispered into my ear.
“If anyone’s gonna be touchin’ you, it’ll be me.” His mouth was so close to my neck, I almost thought he kissed it. Maybe I was just yearning for it.
“That seems overly possessive for a man who can’t even admit he wants me.”
He straightened and growled. The man could growl.
“I mean it, Eryn. Dance with those boys, fine, whatever. I know you don’t really want them.”
He leaned back down and this time, I definitely felt his lips on my neck. Not kissing it, just claiming it. With a nip of teeth too. I felt my knees buckle.
“But if they try anything, princess . . . if they touch you in a way that I don’t like,” he straightened again and looked me right in the eyes. “I’ll rip their fuckin’ hands off.”
And with that, he turned, making his way back through the crowd as if he hadn't just upended my world.
17
Gray
Squinting against the harsh midday sun, I leaned on the weathered fence post, my thoughts as tangled as the barbed wire coiling along its length. I’d acted like a caveman last night and I couldn’t even regret it.
In fact, I was proud of myself for not taking it as far as I wanted to, which was haulin’ Eryn over my shoulder and bringing her home to my bed so I could claim her like I needed to.
When I’d heard through the grapevine that Eryn and Sutton were living it up at the Dusty Barrel, my first thought was to avoid the place like the plague so I didn’t have a repeat of last time. But that first thought only lasted two seconds, before I found myself showering and dressing in my nicest jeans and heading downtown to check the scene out.
When I’d seen her dancing with that lanky son’bitch, I wasn’t threatened. He was probably better on the dance floor than he was in the saddle, or the bedroom, for that matter. But the primal urge inside me to make Eryn know she was mine took hold. I might not be good with sweet words, romantic declarations. But I sure as shit made my intentions known.
Now I just had to make sure she didn’t hate me for it. A part of me felt like a damn fool for making such a stink about Eryn's zoning application.
She was bringing something new to our little town, and that should've been good news. But here I was, dug in like a tick on an old hound, fighting her at every turn while at the same time, falling for her. I wasn’t used to it. I wasn’t used to any of it.
The sound of a canter coming up on the right got my attention. I looked up to see my brother approach.
“Got some heads-up for ya,” Walker drawled, riding up with that easy stride that always irked me when my own thoughts were running circles. “Crew's over at Eryn's place. They're swarmin' like bees on a honeycomb.”
“Doing what?” The question came out rougher than I intended, my concern for her safety masked by the gruffness in my voice.
“Can't say. But she's all alone with 'em.” He cocked an eyebrow, probably reading more into my furrowed brow than he ought to. Or maybe reading it just right.
“None of my business.” I pushed off the fence, my boots kicking up dust as I strode away, perturbed by the image of her amidst strangers, yet still conflicted about showing up uninvited. Except last night I made it clear, she was my business. Maybe I’d take a ride over there and check it all out.
I heard Walk ride off, hopefully to do some actual fucking work, and got back to my own task. It could have been twenty minutes or two hours for all I knew, but once again, the rhythmic thud of horse hooves caught my attention, and I found myself face-to-face with Mason, his gray eyes steady and knowing beneath the brim of his hat.
“Gray, you're wrangling your pride more than those steers lately.” His voice was calm, like the eye of a storm that was my mind.
“You know I don’t work with the cattle. What, were you workin’ on that metaphor all morning?”
He laughed. “Maybe.”
“What do you want?”
“Just takin’ a break. Thought I’d check in on you.”
“What, you turnin’ into my mother?”
