Page 58 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Dean shrugs. “I know you think that’s an insult, but I’ve always been a Beauty and the Beast kind of guy. Ask Libby.”
“Who the hell is Libby?” A biker growls.
“Not the time,” Wheeler snarls at Dean.
Someone ought to. Bringing up his daughter in a biker/cowboy brawl is in bad taste.
Dean turns back to the men as they step closer. “Listen, give him a break is what I’m saying. He’s protective of her. Like in a touch her and die way. Like a grumpy sunshine thing.”
“What the actual fuck?” I snarl.
“Romance tropes,” Wheeler clarifies.
“Make it stop,” I beg.
“The girl next door he’s longed for his whole life.” Dean continues, like any of these guys are interested. “The forbidden girl.”
“I’m going to punch him out bloody cold.” I take a step toward Dean, and Wheeler’s hand presses flat on my chest.
“Later.”
“All they need is to get stranded together. Forced proximity. One bed. And one hot kiss to realize what they already know.”
I hate my brother. I think I hate him more than this biker. I also want to punch him harder.
“You were stepping on his vibe. Breakin’ his macho. Surfing his territory. How about we let bygones be bygones.” Dean’s arms spread open like he’s trying to sell peace treaties out of the back of a pickup truck.
Let bygones be bygones? Does he think that’ll actually work?
He jerks his chin toward me. “He can apologize.”
I scoff.
Biker dick steps forward. “You got a problem with me, cowboy?”
I sigh. “According to my friend”—the word is sour on my tongue, being my brothers are Bronx’s friends, and I hardly tolerate him—“you were pressin’ up on a woman who was clearly tryin’ to get away. Technically, I have a problem with that. And that’s less about me, more about you not understandin’ boundaries.”
One of the other bikers, a tall guy with a face like a dried-out lizard, chimed in, “Vin don’t need no lecture from a guy who thinks a cowboy hat makes him tough.”
“It ain’t just for looks.” Dean adjusts his hat. “It keeps the sun off and the tough guy look on.”
The one with a braided goatee scoffs. “Bunch of cowboys thinking they’re tough because they rode in on horses.”
Levi raises a brow. “You rode in on a motorcycle covered in skull decals. Isn’t that just overcompensating?”
Dean tries to hold in a laugh and snorts.
Vin—is that what they called him?—jabs a finger toward me. “You stepped into my business. That kinda thing comes with consequences.”
I really didn’t. I stumbled in and caught the last ten seconds. Maybe even five. But I’m not going to correct him because I need this fight.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Vin cracks his knuckles, slow and grinning. I guess he thinks he’s tougher with backup.
“I’m going to take that fancy hat of yours.”
I’m ready to see him try.
