Page 4 of Cowboy

“Keep it slow. No big words like love, marriage, and a baby in a baby carriage,” Blade adds as if I need coaching from the other eternal bachelor.

“What the fuck?” I mutter. The guys chuckle at my expense, and I get it. I do. I’ve been standing at the end of an aisle too many times. “I’m not doing this.”

“Bull, dude. She keeps looking over here. Just say hi. That’s not a commitment either. It’s a way to start a conversation,” Clayton encourages.

“Hardy-har, boys.” These guys are such assholes. I know how this night is going to go. The more they drink, the more they razz, putting them almost on par with Redd and Dillard.

Look at Bull, dairy king handing out another ring.

Our waitress brings another round that I don’t remember ordering. It doesn’t stop me from chugging down the additional beer, though, before Clayton throws out a challenge.

“Milk time for a week.” He tips his head toward the redheaded beauty I keep taking glances at. “Just a drink.”

“For a week?” The boys know I don’t actually mind milking. It’s a repetitive process, and the soft lulls of the cows let my thoughts run their course before the rest of the day needs my attention. I wouldn’t even know how to sleep in as I’m so used to getting up at four in the morning. Still, I double his challenge. “Two weeks.”

“Done,” Clayton says, reaching over the table and shaking my hand.

“Maybe she’s your four-leaf clover. A lucky charm,” Blade adds, rubbing his hands together, and right there, I know he’s jinxed me.

“Hey, Rita.”

My eyes leap to her tablemate and then back to her. Rita has dark hair with faint lines of white, giving away her age a bit.

“Hiya yourself, handsome. How are you tonight, Bull?”

Reaching for the back of my neck, I nervously scratch.

“Just thought I’d come over and say hi.” I glance back at her friend, unnerved by the dark depths of her eyes.

“Uh-huh.” Rita takes a sip of the cola in her glass. “Bull Eaton, this is my friend, Scarlett Russell. Scarlett, Bull.”

Our eyes meet, and I swear my heart does a two-step dance. Struggling to keep myself in check, I slip my hands into my back pockets and rock on my boot heels. I’m a fucking teenage mess looking at her with those large coffee-colored eyes.

“My friends dared me to buy you a drink.” The words rush out, bursting forth like hot air in a balloon. Scarlett laughs, looking like she’s already had a few.

With a large smile curling those purple-painted lips, she says, “Well, I’ll see your hello and one-up you. How about taking me home, Bull?”

“Pardon me?” I stammer, unbelieving my ears.

“I said, I’ll see your hello and raise you to . . . take me to bed, partner.”

I blink. I look at Rita. I glance back at her friend. It couldn’t be that easy.

“How about that drink?” I nod toward her glass.

“Had plenty already,” she states, staring up at me with saucer-sized eyes. Damn, she’s so pretty.

“You drunk?” I have to ask. She shakes her head, and Rita leans over, saying something to her that I miss while taking in the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. She glances at Rita and then slips off the stool.

“Lead on.” She holds out a hand before me.

Taking her hand, I don’t look up at the guys as I pass them, but I’m certain their mouths are hanging open. Somewhere in the bar, I hope Redd and Dillard are watching. Holding up my hand, I give a raised V salute over my shoulder to whomever might be watching me.

Two weeks, buddy, I intend for Clayton. Or victory, however, they want to read it.

I’m not that crass, though, and once outside, I gently grab her upper arm and swing her toward the exterior of the bar.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, darlin’,” I say to her, leaning in and sliding my hand above her head. As she’s several inches shorter than me despite high heeled boots, she looks up at me, biting the corner of her lip, and I swear I want to look into that swirling chocolate gleam as I enter her repeatedly, but I take a deep breath.