Page 98 of Up in Smoke

She sits tall, like always. Shoulders pulled back. Chin level.

The only thing different about her is the way she did her makeup. It’s not over the top, but there’s a sultry smoke around her eyes that’s not just pretty. It’s fucking devastating. I’m gutted just staring at her, and I’m not sure a pack of wolves could keep me from getting closer.

My back lifts away from the wall, but someone walks up to her before I fully pull away to stand. I fix my face into a scowl.

If I had to fistfight, Dax would not be my first choice. I can hold my own, being as scrappy and quick as I am. But he’s justbig. If it comes down to it, I might need backup. Just in case.

Dax takes the seat next to her, and when she smiles, my heart stops.

With the reception in full swing, passing guests block my view, and I’m forced to lean to the side every five seconds to keep an eye on the scene. The lights strung across the beams above cast a glow over their table. They talk. She squints. I replace my frown with a smirk because I don’t think she’s buying what he’s selling.

Either way, he’s fucking dead.

I glare at Dax like he owes me something. The moment he stands, my boots carry me across the room.

“Hey, man. How’s it go?—”

Not now, Keith. I turn to him for a split second, but then I keep walking. “Good to see ya. Sorry, little preoccupied.”

When I look back at the table, they’re gone, and I start to panic. I whip my head around the entire barn until I find them on the dance floor and adjust my direction.

I’m ten steps away when she lays her hands on his arms.

Five steps, and he pulls her closer.

Two steps, his hand is moving up her open back toward her neck, and I’m seething.

I nearly bump into Mesa when I finally come to a stop. With a death stare, I reach around her and tap him on the shoulder. Hard.

Mesa spins out of his hold instantly, running right into my chest. I place a hand on her hip to stabilize her balance. Dax raises a brow, and I don’t miss the smile he’s holding back. Bastard.

“Beat it.”

He holds up his hands like I’ve got a gun pointed in his face. “Sorry, Tripp. This your girl?”

“Damn sure ain’t yours.”

He laughs and takes Mesa’s hand like he’s going to kiss the back of it in some sort of fake gentlemanly departure. I instantly wrap my fingers around his wrist and squeeze until his pulse rages against my palms, and he loosens his grip.

“Fuck off, Dax.”

He turns and walks away without another word, but his laugh carries over the music and goes straight to my ears anyway. Mesa crosses her arms and takes a step to her left. I cover my face with a hand and let out the breath I’ve been keeping trapped in my lungs since he touched her.

“Hi,” she says.

Her sweet voice pulls my gaze to hers.. She’s so damn pretty that it physically hurts. My step toward her is involuntary, but thankfully, she doesn’t back away.

“Hi, Mace.”

A dancing couple clumsily attempting a two-step bump into her from behind. My arms open, and she has no choice but to fall into them. She stays still for a beat but eventually dips her chin and lifts her arms to wrap around my middle.

I spot Gage over her head by the cake table. He fist bumps Dax, and I close my eyes before I roll them into another dimension. They like to call me the troublemaker, but the only two times I’ve been around Gage and Dax in the same room, I’ve either gotten shot at or damn near started a fistfight.

Scheming fuckers.

Mesa clears her throat and pulls away from our accidental embrace.

“What was that about?”

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