Page 19 of Sunrise Arrows

I’m instantly on alert, pinching the phone between my ear and shoulder as I swipe my wallet and keys from the hook and table at the backdoor that leads to Ryder’s garage.

“Are people giving her a problem?”

“Nah man, you know I wouldn’t let that happen. I mean Donny Suthers was tryin’ to take pictures of her earlier, but he’s always had more muscle than brain. Tossed him right out and told him he’s not allowed back if she’s in here.

“I’m callin’ because Tinsel’s fuckin’ plastered—like worse than the Fourth of July when you said, ‘We’ve all been drinkin’ long before turning twenty-one. What’s the harm in lettin’ her try some jello shots?’

“She’s been out there dancin’ with her friend, havin’ a good ol’ time, but that dick Mason Hucksley’s just joined the party and she ain’t tellin’ him to keep on steppin’.”

I grip my phone and breathe for a second, trying to calm the jealousy pounding through my veins. My teeth are clenched and back stiff as I force out, “If that’s what she wants?—”

“It’s not though. Trust me, Arch. When I’m not helpin’ sling drinks, I’ve been with them both all night listening to every word she’s said. Now, are you gonna come remind Mason fuckin’ Hucksley and every other man in here itching to chase her skirt that she’s your girl or what?”

“She doesn’t want me,” I quietly hiss, because I know my mom and brothers are listening in as best they can.

“The fuck she doesn’t. You haven’t been here; that girl could have Chris Hemsworth or some shit proposing to her and she would drop him in the blink of an eye if you so much as smiled at her.”

If Tinsley’s as drunk as Ames says she is, nobody should be joining her night out with Briar. She can’t fucking consent, and the fact that Mason Hucksley is still trying has my red haze of jealousy thickening with anger. The situation and my reaction is murky as shit, but I can’t stay here and do nothing. And if there’s even a chance at what Ames is saying being true, I don’t think I can stay away. Not again.

“I’m on my way.”

“Atta boy. I’ll keep cock blockin’ ‘til you get here.”

“Thanks, man,” I snort, hanging up the phone. I shove it into my pocket and run my hands through my hair before picking up my hat and putting it on.

I say a quick round of goodbyes, staring Hunter down when he makes a derisive comment about me still being pussy-whipped, which gets him smacked with the towel by Mom. Then I’m out the door, in my truck with the high beams on, and leaving the ranch, headed for town.

With a combination of empty streets and going well above the speed limit, I shave ten minutes off the thirty minute drive and am pulling into Dark Horse’s parking lot just after ten o’clock.

Before I’m even inside, I can hear the music and cheering pouring out of the bar. From the doors’ windows, I can see everyone gathered around the bartop, and when I walk in, I know why.

Up on the lacquered wood is Tinsley, Briar, and several women close in age but not from here wearing Bride and Bridesmaid sashes, dancing like this is Coyote Ugly to “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” She’s like a siren on the bar, and without conscious thought, I’m sucked in, my eyes laser focused on her as I make my way through the gathered crowd.

Her hips further entrance me as she moves them to the music, her hands bunching up the skirt of her white dress that’s dotted with wild roses, showing off her toned, tanned thighs as she shimmies down to her heels and back up. Her pink cowboy boots from the other day are replaced by brown ones with white embroidery and the dress she has on has an open, plunging neckline tied together with a brown leather or maybe suede bow. She spins around, her hair in heavy waves and pulled back from her face in a braid, boots stomping to the beat as she and Briar move in close to one another.

When I reach the front, I’m standing beside Mason, right beneath Tinsley, and it’s like we’re magnets. We’re immediately pulled to one another. She spins back to the front and her eyes find mine, locking her in on me. Mason’s presence is completely forgotten. Her body snakes to the music, hands pulling the skirt of her dress higher and higher until she’s bunching it between her thighs and lowering down into a slow, sensual crouch right in front of me.

Her whiskey eyes are bright with exhilaration and alcohol, her smile wider and more genuine than anything I’ve seen of her in the last ten years. She mouths, “Hi,” and then snatches my Stetson right off my head, winking at me as she puts it on, and moving her sexy as sin body back up to standing.

Tinsley and the rest of the girls all crowd together in a line, shimming into and back from one another until the chorus hits again. Then, with a quick break away from the others, she slaps her hands down on her thighs before throwing her arms up and tossing her head side to side. When the guitar riff hits, she mimics it on air. And when Joe Elliot starts in on peaches and cream, she stares at me, unblinking, as she sings along, egging me on to fire her up.

My jeans are uncomfortably tight by the time the song is over. Any honor that could have been found through my jealous motivations of coming here is gone. Especially when she starts to slide off the bar and, unable to control myself, my hands find her waist and help her down, lowering her slowly and with hardly any room to breathe between us.

Her hands come up to my chest when her feet hit the floor. I know she can feel my heart racing beneath her palm as sure as I can see her chest rapidly rising and falling, rivulets of sweat rolling down her chest into her cleavage, begging to be licked, and her nipples drawing up into hard, unignorable points against her dress. I take one hand off her waist and reach up to adjust my hat she stole so I can see her eyes, her head tilting back to look up at me.

We’re drawn into one another, her tongue peeking out and licking her lips as I start to lean down. Electricity courses through my veins, my fingers drifting from the brim of my hat to her hair where they’re begging to thread through, and with the hand still on her waist, I pull her closer.

That small jolt breaks the spell. Instead of letting me close the space between our lips and kiss her, Tinsley’s shoving me back and turning away so she’s facing the bar and Ames.

“I want to close my tab,” she slurs, her arms coming around herself as she curls over the bartop.

“Not a problem, Tinsel.”

She looks around for a minute and I think she’s misplaced her purse, but then she shouts for Briar. The blonde skips up to her side and flicks my hat on her friend’s head.

“I’m ready to go,” Tinsley tells her. “Can we pay and get out of here?”

“Sure but we need to get a rideshare. It’s too far to walk back.”

---