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“Fine, it’s a bet.” He reaches his hand out toward me and we shake on it just as Decker misses his next shot.
“Get your dancing shoes ready.”
I steady my gaze on the table, making a game plan to sink my remaining balls, which I proceed to do with ease.
“Last one left,” I tease Decker. “Eight ball, front left pocket,” I call, pointing toward the pocket. Decker runs over to the pocket I just called, pretending to put a curse on it as he wiggles his hands. I giggle, lining up my shot and sinking it with almost no effort.
“And that’s game.” I curtsy as our friends clap and tease Decker. Trent and Tyler decide to team up to take on their wives.
“I’ll let you pick the song,” I say, walking up next to Ranger.
“‘Honky Tonk Women’?” He laughs. “‘Maneater’?”
“Ha ha, you’re sooo funny.”
He clearly thinks he is, laughing as I pull him off his stool and onto the dance floor.
“Okay, okay, I got it,” he says, walking over to the jukebox and making a selection. A few seconds later, Tammy Wynette’s “Stand by Your Man” starts playing over the speakers as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward him.
“Do you remember when we met at that party in high school and I got drunk and sang this song for karaoke?”
He pulls back, staring at me with a strange look on his face. “I, uh, vaguely, I think.” He pulls me back into his arms as our bodies begin to sway with the music. His large, calloused hand engulfs mine, his other hand settling on my waist. His fingers slip beneath the hem of my slightly cropped shirt, the warmth of his skin on mine sending a shiver up my spine.
I close my eyes, leaning into his broad chest as I savor this moment. His body feels so right against mine, so firm and protective.
“What’s on your mind?” his voice rumbles through his chest. I pull my ear away from him, looking up.
“Where’d you run off to the other night after the auction? I tried to find you, but your truck was gone.”
“Went home. I was tired.” His eyes drift away from mine.
“You could’ve at least said goodbye.”
“Sorry, you seemed preoccupied. Didn’t want to interrupt you.”
I could be wrong, but he looks jealous or angry. I feel his body stiffen and he clearly doesn’t want to have this conversation. I open my mouth to question him, but the song comes to an end and he steps back, breaking contact.
“Think I’m gonna take off.”
“Okay.” I can’t hide the annoyance in my voice. “Whatever,” I mutter as he steps around me and walks back toward the bar to grab his jacket. Once again, he doesn’t even bother with a “good night.” He just walks past everyone and out the door. Anger courses through me, and I march across the floor. He’s going to get a piece of my mind.
“Is this your new thing? Running off?”
“What?” He turns around to face me in the parking lot.
“You ran off the other night, you keep blowing me off, and then again tonight you just peace out without even a goodbye when I’m standing right in front of you.”
“I just want to go home, Doll, so please stop reading into it.” He turns and starts walking back toward his truck. “Good night!” he says loudly with a simple wave.
“No!” I shout, chasing after him. “We’re going to talk. I’m tired of this shit. Whatever game this is, I’m not playing.”
His back stiffens and he stops dead in his tracks. “Game?” He shakes his head with a sarcastic chuckle. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Where’s Styles at tonight, huh?” he practically spits his name out.
“What?”
