I shook my head in response to Silas, my cheeks hurting with an uncontrollable smile I failed to contain—imagining Dakota as one of the buckle-branded, all shiny and new. The vision sent a flutter to the bottom of my stomach, my cock swelling with pride. I’ve waited for this moment to become a reality for so fucking long.
“She’s a keeper. I’ll leave it at that.” But she was also so much fucking more.
“You two better not be starting this party without me! The three amigos, finally workin’ the same shift once again.” Trent pulled us in by our shoulders, heads knocking, and hats nearly falling to the floor from the rough movement. “And, not to mention, we’re celebratin’ tonight.”
“What for?” Silas and I asked in unison, the two of us looking at each other with confusion.
“Well, your girl is coming to the show this evening, of course. No need to thank me.” Trent gave a mischievous wink, and I just about lost my lunch on his shirt.
“She’swhat?” I may have been in a slight state of shock. Stunned, actually, as to how he’d managed to get her to agree to come here without putting up a fight.
Not that I wouldn’t want Dakota to see me working here, a shirtless temptation dancing across the bar like a five-course meal, and I’ve seen the look she gave my studio every morning, that fire of hatred with an undertone of withheld lust. She couldn’t fool me, and this very well may be all the encouragement she needed to finally make a move of her own.
“I just figured I’d help you speed up the process. Force that sassy little fireball to claim her Cowboy before someone else does.”Not a chance in hell. As if I’d let just any buckle bunny have me. “Besides, she can’t hate you forever, kid, not with a face like this.” Trent teased as he gripped my jaw and rattled my head like I was his teenage son;borderline offensive.
Hijacked plans aside, I did want Dakota to come to me, and in all honesty, hoped she would’ve by now, even if it were out of spite.
“And what do you propose I do to make her want to claim me in front of a herd of bunnies?” I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head with the question. Without stating it outright, he made a valid point; she was resisting, and I knew she fucking was.
Releasing his hold on me, Trent glanced over at Silas, his smirk widening as he adjusted his hat, and they both gave a quick nod in agreement.
“Blowtorches.”
Chapter 13
Dakota
Kerosenewasthebestbar when you’re searching for an easy distraction. Emphasis on the easy. Because what kind of woman wouldn’t allow herself to be manhandled and swept away by an endless sea of perfectly cut abs and oversized belt buckles? Single or not, the Cowboys of Kerosene were the mecca of adult entertainment on Broadway, and Tiffany’s pick of poison for the night.
I’ve never been to a show, so I didn’t question her last-minute change of mind, but it did make me curious about why she was so adamant about coming here instead of The Yard.
From the outside, the building looked like a wild west saloon, with batwing doors installed over traditional glass, distressed ‘wanted’ signs affixed to the blacked-out windows, and mugshots promoting the various dancers on their roster.
My sister yanked open the front doors to Kerosene, revealing a rustic bar already near capacity, women’s asses backed against the far wall, fighting for whatever space was left.
Tiffany grabbed my hand as we forced our way through a sea of daisy dukes, Ariats, and white lace tank tops. Everyone dressed to save a horse for the night—an act of community service.
“What’re we drinking?” Tiffany shouted from over my shoulder, the entire venue thrumming with popular country music and overly rowdy women making it difficult to hear each other speak.
I mouthed ‘vodka cranberry’ in response, taking in the atmosphere while my sister ordered our first round.
“Your tab is on the house tonight.” I overheard a male voice call to my sister as she received our drinks, and I didn’t think to question the gesture.Free is free.
We managed to snag a spot right up against the main bar, and I couldn’t help but notice that it appeared wider than usual; the bartender had to physically lean across the counter to serve drinks, and there was a drop shelf installed along the front edge where everyone could place them. I couldn’t imagine why they would need to keep the entire bar top clear, but as my eyes drifted upward, I found my answer dangling from the rafters: several aerialist wrist ropes.
Well, I’ll be damned, this bar was specifically designed and built for dancing—
The two of us nearly flew out of our skin as the entire room suddenly went dark; nothing but a bright neon-orange light illuminated the ceiling trim.
Tiffany and I looked at each other in confusion as the women surrounding us started clapping and stomping to the beat of “Fire Never Lies” by The Soulful Gentlemen.
By the time the first verse started, the crowd erupted with lustful screams as several men sporting Lucchese boots, branded with the name Kerosene along the outer edge, lined the bar, and the smell of freshly tanned leather enveloped my senses.
Eight incredibly hot-as-fuck cowboys were on full display, with their deep brown hats, matching belts, bright white tank tops, and dark wash jeans. They captured and held everyone’s attention. Their large, polished bronze buckles bearing the Kerosene emblem only enhance their appeal to a specific group of ladies.
Our late-night eye candy danced in time with the music, their routine choreographed and rehearsed to total perfection. Not a single performer out of sync.
It was a pretty impressive and satisfying sight. I never imagined witnessing something so flawless from a group of men whose reputations rested solely on their bodies, rather than talent. But my god, did they have it in spades.
