Page 63 of Fool for You
“I can’t promise dancing, but I can tell you right now we’re not playing pool.” I blinked, my ability to walk finally being returned to my legs. Quinn was already down the hall, so I had to jog a few steps to catch up with her. “You beat my ass that one time, and I can’t make another bet.”
“We can think of something, can’t we?”
“No pool.” I pointed at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, no pool.”
Together, we walked out onto the street, the night air still chilly even though we were well into spring. I was still in my jeans, T-shirt, and flannel…I could only imagine how cold Quinn must be feeling. I glanced at her legs, noticing the small goosebumps that prickled her skin. My gaze trailed up to her arms, and the same goosebumps spread over her shoulders. The urge to run my knuckle down her bare shoulder was extremely potent, as was the temptation to shed off my flannel and drape it over her shoulders, but with the way she was moving, she probably didn’t even notice the cold. So…instead of giving in to my impulsive thought of touching her, I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Here we are!” Quinn skipped the final three steps to the door and reached for the handle. I beat her to it and pulled it open, the thick music reaching all the way to the street. “Oh myGod, thevibes. Good pick, Hartwell. Drink first, then dancing.” She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me to the bar. She didn’t have to drag me—I would willingly follow her anywhere she’d want to go at this point.
Pushing through a small crowd, we sat at the bar top and ordered two lagers, and the second the bartender laid eyes on Quinn, he knew exactly who she was. He leaned in, his voice a little shaky as he made sure she was, in fact, Quinn Compton. When she nodded and leaned forward, he was so completely lost, I was shocked he remembered to serve us our drinks. Apparently, the local rodeos were bigger than college football in The Westerner, and the bartender—Brad—was a huge fan of barrel racing. Meeting Quinn was the highlight of his night. And, once they started talking, I was invisible. Her smile grew as Brad recapped her rides the last few nights, even commenting on her ride tonight. Quinn blushed and giggled as the conversation started to flow through them. And that wonderful pit of jealously grew in my stomach. I heaved a sigh and spread my legs a little wider, making sure my knee was touching her. I grabbed my drink and took a long gulp, my eyes flying between Quinn and Brad.
Reminding myself that Quinn was not mine to be jealous over, I pulled my phone from my pocket. A good doom scroll would hopefully distract me.
Heading directly to the PRCA website, I checked Quinn’s standing, not even shocked when I saw her sitting in third place. I clicked on her profile and scrolled. It had all her past times and events listed for the year so far, including tonight’s win. I had been the one to constantly check her stats—and she was going up and up. There was no doubt in my mind that she would be number one soon.
My phone pinged, and a text banner dropped.
Abi
Quinn was amazing tonight! She must be over the moon.
Me
She is. Just checked her standing. Third in the nation.
Abi
Damn—does she know?
Me
Not sure, but she will.
Abi
Make sure she celebrates. I know she’s big on her schedules, but…get her out.
“Hey, Compton,” I said, a little spark in my chest when she turned around from Brad. I raised my phone and aimed it at her. “Smile,” I said, looking at her from over the top of my phone.
Quinn raised her chin and smiled at the camera, her beauty almost just as mesmerizing on the screen as it was in real life. I lowered my phone and looked at her on the screen, making sure to mark it as a favorite before I sent it off to Abi.
“Who’s that for?” she asked, leaning away from Brad and close to me. Her hat lightly touched my forehead as my screen lit up in between us.
Abi
Oh my lord, she’s at a bar! Good job, bro.
Me
It was her idea.
Abi
I think you’re rubbing off on her.
Oh—I saw the announcement. I’m sorry, Wyatt, it wasn’t meant to be. They’re missing out.
