Page 44 of Danger

I tell myself I’m just watching the room. But my eyes don’t leave that table.

The problem with cowboys in this town is they don’t know when to quit. I’ve witnessed it more times than I can count. In a place like this, when a man’s not staring into his whiskey, he’s lookin’ for an excuse to talk, to have someone's attention. Bartender makes that easy—gives ’em a reason to step close and act like they’ve got a right to her time.

Rogue’s already halfway through his third beer, talking shit that I’m not listenin’ to. No, I’m still focused on two drunk ranch hands that keep their attention on Winnie. She’s not oblivious. She doesn’t do oblivious. She gives them a half-smile.

Charming clocks me staring, then tracks my line of sight to the two idiots. He puts it together quickly, dropping his shoulders. “Oh, shit.”

“What,” I say, not breaking eye contact with the pair, who are now makin’ some kinda game plan with each other.

“I know that look,” Charming says, pointin’ his beer at me. “Haven’t seen you give a look like that since—actually, come to think of it, I don’t think I ever have.”

I shrug. “You’re seeing things.”

“Yeah, I’m seeing you ready to break a couple of hands for staring at a woman who you took home last night.”

“It ain’t like that.”

Charming turns, eyes me hard. “But you’re into her, aren’t you?”

I bark out a laugh.

“No. No way. She’s just been helpin’ out on the ranch lately. Fisher would skin me alive if I let anything happen to her. Besides, I’m not like you. I don’t do the whole lovesick puppy dog thing. You’d marry Honey tomorrow if she gave you the time of day.”

Charming doesn’t even hesitate. “Damn right. I’d marry her, build her a fucking porch swing, the white picket fence. Even argue with her about stupid paint colors.”

I stare at him. “You’re sick.”

“You mean you don’t want what Trouble’s got with Sawyer?” He tips his chin toward the bar.

Trouble’s got Sawyer in front of him, two fingers pinching her nose while she swats at his arm, laughing.

“Exactly,” I say.

Charming grins. “Yeah, looks miserable. A woman who laughs at his jokes.”

Right on cue, Sawyer throws her head back and lets out a loud, unhinged cackle that scares poor Peggy behind her.

“Sounds like a nightmare,” I say.

“Gives him hell,” Charming goes on, counting on his fingers now. “Keeps him humble.”

“Hard pass.”

“Knows what he’s thinkin’ before he opens his mouth.”

Sawyer snags Trouble’s empty beer, then hands him a fresh one while he just watches her like she hung the moon.

I shake my head. “Torture.”

Charming sighs, all dreamy and dramatic. “Yeah. Real tragic way to live.”

He nudges me before he says, “Best part—he says it’s the meaningful, mindblowing sex.”

I raise a brow. “Please stop. I’m gettin’ hives.”

He whistles low. “Who the hell would want all that?”

“Not me.”