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“This place is huge,” Harper says.
“Right? I guess I expected a place like the one in San Angelo. This is something else.” Fortunately, it doesn’t take long to get to the front. Soon, we’re flashing our IDs, getting our hands stamped, and walking in.
The lights are dim. Around the perimeter of the hardwood dance floor is a gigantic bar with the largest assortment of beer on tap I’ve ever seen. On the far side of the room is a bull riding area. Handfuls of people dressed in cowboy hats and boots are two-stepping the night away. The smile on Harper’s face doesn’t fade as she looks around.
“Drinks first, then dancin’,'' Harper tells me, leading me to the bar. As soon as we find seats, the bartender comes over wearing cutoffs and her hair in pigtails. She bats her lashes and calls me sweetheart. I notice Harper scoot her left hand into view, showing off the engagement ring. Then to make it super obvious, she moves closer until her body leans against mine.
“I’ll take a Shiner.”
Harper orders a double shot of tequila with salt and lime.
When the bartender saunters away, Harper turns to me.
“You were worried about me gettin’ picked up and look at you,” she playfully teases.
“Bartenders are trained to flirt. It’s how they earn their tips,” I reassure her. I used to bartend at the family’s pub, so I know it’s very common.
“Or she thinks you’re attractive.”
“And what’s wrong with her thinkin' that?” I challenge, arching a brow.
“It’s unprofessional to be flirting with an almost-married man,” she tells me matter-of-factly. “You’re the one who said we’re engaged tonight.”
I smirk. “That I did.”
As our drinks are set down in front of us, I ask, “Can we open a tab?”
“Sure, honey.” The bartender winks at me, then takes my card before walking to the register.
“She’s getting no tip,” Harper grunts, and I laugh at how jealous she is.
“Stop worryin’. You’re the one I’m going home with.”
Harper blushes but only nods.
I take a sip of my beer just as Harper orders another round and a glass of water. I ask for whiskey straight up.
“You’re gonna be trashed.”
As soon as the shot glass is set in front of her, Harper licks the salt off the rim, downs the liquid gold, then sucks on the lime.
“That’s the goal!” she squeals. “Plus, I’m in good hands.” She waggles her brows and drinks some water as she waits for me to finish my drinks.
Once I’m done, I lead her to the dance floor. A shot girl comes around, and we get a few of those too. At first, they taste like shit, but after three more, I can’t taste anything at all. It goes down like water, which is a dead giveaway that I’m getting drunk. I’m normally a whiskey and beer drinker, but these shots have more alcohol than I’m used to. Considering Harper’s giggling nonstop, she’s more than tipsy.
We two-step to a few songs, but when a slow one comes on, I pull her against my body. We sway to the beat of the music, and I can’t help but notice the way Harper’s looking at me. Her eyes fixate on me, and when they drop to my lips, she licks hers before moving them back to mine. There’s something brewing, has been all weekend, and I’m not sure either of us can fight it any longer.
Knowing there’s no reason to pretend anymore, but wanting her to understand that I wish this didn’t have to end, I lean in and kiss her. She tightens her arms around my neck as I dig my fingers into her waist and slide a hand into her hair.
We’ve been kissing all weekend, but that’s only when we’ve had an audience to show off for. Right now, it’s just us—devouring each other as if our lives depend on it.
“Ethan,” Harper whispers in a plea against my lips. “I need more.” She tugs on the bottom of my shirt, making sure her signals are clear. I gently bite her bottom lip with a groan, and it takes everything I have to pull away.
“Fuck. Let’s get out of here,” I suggest, knowing we both want this.
Harper schedules an Uber as I pay our tab. As soon as we’re inside the car, our mouths magnetize toward one another. Harper climbs onto my lap, grinding down on my erection as I suck her neck. I don’t give a shit that we’re giving the driver a show, and it takes all of six minutes for us to make it to the hotel.
Once we arrive and get out, we rush to the elevator, laughing, kissing, and touching as we step in. Our tongues tangle together until it stops on our floor. I may have had a lot to drink, but the moment we step inside the room, I quickly sober up.
