I marched forward, skidding to a stop as I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Hey, cowboy, mind if I have this dance?”
I quickly gave them the rundown, telling Josie she sure as hell didn’t want Ellis to walk in and see what I had. She took off toward the table, leaving Lincoln and I alone out on the floor.
The house band was saying their goodbyes, packing up their instruments to clear way for the next act. The bar switched on one of their tried-and-true playlists of old country tunes.
They’d played it so many times, I’d memorized the order. The owner never switched the songs to shuffle, even though most of his regulars had tried to show him how.
Lincoln’s movements were stiff, his muscles coiled and ready to strike beneath my hands. He didn’t take his eyes off Josie for one second, not until she was safely sitting down at the table with Cleo and Bishop.
I glanced up at him, envious of the way he watched her with such intensity. No one had ever looked at me like that, like theywantedme. Not that I had ever let anything grow past the point of lust-filled glances and heated moments in the back of my truck.
I told myself I never had the time for more, that I was too busy with life on the ranch and the circuit to share what precious moments I had with someone else. Even though we were in the heart of cowboy country, it was hard to find someone who understood.
I think they found it attractive at first—how I could hold my own in the arena and kick most of their asses while doing it. But there was some deeply rooted belief that all of that had to go away when a woman settled down. Like suddenly, it was unbecoming.
I was never going to be the type to be barefoot and pregnant, turning in my reins for apron strings while my partner was out tending to the things that needed to be done. I wanted to bebeside them, fixing fences and rounding up cattle. I wanted to be seen and treated as an equal, sharing the load of life’s hardships instead of becoming an accessory on their arm.
My mom always said I had too much of my dad in me. At first, I thought it was a criticism, something I always challenged her on. As I got older, though, I realized it was the best compliment anyone could’ve given me.
I squeezed Lincoln’s hand, bringing his attention back to me. “Don’t break her fucking heart.”
He looked confused, brows pulling together in question. Yeah, it may have seemed out of left field to him, but it wasn’t to me. “Pardon?”
I’d watched Josie, my sweet, overly anxious, falls-in-love-too-easily sister, get hurt more times than I could count. I was always there to pick her up when she was down. We’d go out to the Lone Star, and tear up the town until the cycle started over again and she caught the eye of some new heartbreaker.
It was only now that I realized we’d never done that after her trip to Tennessee. I hadn’t understood what was different about that time than any of the others, how she seemed more distraught after a five-day fling than she had finding out her boyfriend of over six months had been cheating on her.
But I understood now, and I reckoned love didn’t care about conventional timing.
“You heard me, cowboy. I mean it. If you break her heart, I’ll kill you. There’s a lot of places to hide a body on the ranch, and I won’t think twice about shoving your dick back up?—”
“I’m not gonna break her heart,” he mumbled, sliding his eyes back toward the table. “But I’m afraid she’s gonna break mine.”
I followed his gaze, stomach dropping as I noticed Ellis standing where Lincoln had been moments ago. The buttoned-up cockbag leaned forward, relying on the table to steady him as he swayed on his shiny shoes.
As Josie leaned away, every muscle in Lincoln’s body grew taut. We’d stopped in the middle of the dance floor, earning our share of rude looks from couples passing by. “Don’t go making a scene,” I warned. “You don’t want to get tossed out on your ass.”
“I don’t give a shit about that,” he said, rolling his neck as Ellis sneered down at my sister.
He said something and Josie slammed her hand down on the table. I didn’t need to hear her words to know she was tearing into his ass. It would’ve been funny had Bishop not sat up straighter and looked over his shoulder at Lincoln and I.
Ope. This wasn’t going to end well. Someone was going to end up with split knuckles or a broken nose. My money was on Ellis for the latter.
And then, just like I’d predicted, all hell broke loose as Ellis reached for Josie, pulling her off the stool and getting in her face. She reached for the hand firmly curled around her bicep, trying to loosen his white-knuckled grip.
Lincoln was gone, storming toward the table in a murderous rage. His boots thundered against the concrete floor. I followed, hot on his heels because if he didn’t get to him first, I’d be the one security was dragging out, kicking and screaming.
I’d always hated Ellis, but that was because I thought he was an arrogant piece of shit who thought he was better than everyone around him. I’d never clocked him as the violent type, but sometimes, you didn’t see a snake in the grass until you got bit.
Laying a hand on any woman was a mistake, but laying a hand on Josie?
Huge. Fucking monumental.
Cleo shouted for security as Lincoln pulled Ellis off Josie, internally cheering as he landed a hard blow to the fucker’s nose. I stopped beside Cleo, watching with glee as blood began trickling down his upper lip. “What’d you do that for?” I askedher, grabbing what was left of my beer off the table and downing the rest.
We both cocked our heads as Lincoln pushed Ellis against a table. “Because I don’t want to have to call Dad and explain why he’s going to need to drive down to the county jail and bail everyone’s ass out.”
“Davey doesn’t call the cops for shit like this,” I said, just as the man in question came bounding up. He’d worked at this bar for as long as I could remember, and I’d gotten to know him pretty well.
