Holy fuck. She looks absolutely amazing. And she’s making her way toward the bartop tables I’m sitting at.
Dakota freezes in place when she spots me, not even bothering to hide her blatant ogling as she takes me in. I ogle her right back because, honestly, how could I not?
I grab my glass of whiskey and slowly walk toward her like a predator stalking its prey.
“My god, Austen. Look at you. You’re absolutely devastating in a cowgirl hat and boots.”
A shy smile spreads across her lips. She looks up at me through dark lashes, and the second her emerald eyes meet mine, I’m a goner. “You don’t look so bad yourself, purty boy. Shoulda known you’d be a cowboy who thinks it’s a good idea to wear white. You wouldn’t last a day on my family’s ranch.”
“Oh, and I take it you typically wear those rhinestone cowgirl boots on the ranch?” I taunt.
“My mama would pitch a hissy fit if she saw me wearing these boots while riding Buttercup.”
“Ah, Buttercup is your horse back home, right? Isn’t she an apple-something?”
That makes her chuckle. “Yep. She’s the sweet girl that makes me homesick whenever I think of her. And she’s an Appaloosa.”
“Well, if I weren’t deathly afraid of horses, I’d offer to be your riding partner when you eventually take me home to meet your family. But seeing as I’d like to make a good impression, I should probably steer clear of the horse barn.”
That makes her eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. I never asked you to come home to meet my mama. Besides, I know this is just another ploy to get closer to my brother. You’re unrelenting.”
“I’ve let up quite a bit since he somehow got my number and FaceTime-interviewed me to make sure I wasn’t, and I quote, ‘a serial killer forcing his baby sister to live with him.’ Jolene loves me already after only chatting with me on a few of your calls, and that just kills you, doesn’t it?” The smirk that takes over my face is cocky as hell.
“Well, you’d make quite the first impression with them if you dressed like that.” Dakota gestures toward my belt buckle. “Did you choose the most obnoxious belt buckle you could find?”
“Oh, you know it. It was either this or the assless chaps, but I thought I should save those to live out one of your personal fantasies together someday.”
“Bless your heart, Golden Boy.”
“You did not just ‘bless your heart’ me.” I mock-gasp and grab my chest as if I’m appalled.
“I absolutely did. Now, will you be a good boy and buy me a drink?”
I’ll do anything she asks if she’s calling me a good boy. A new kink has officially been unlocked.
“Sure thing. What can I get for ya, darlin’?” I ask with a tip of my cowboy hat.
“I’ll take a margarita on the rocks, please, and thank you,” she singsongs, clearly already a bit tipsy from the girls’ drinking games.
I’ve barely placed the drink in Dakota’s hand when my sister hooks arms with her and says they need to go dance.
Meanwhile, I’m frozen in place at the bar, completely captivated by Dakota’s hips as they twist side to side in her little jean skirt. She’s teaching the girls a line dance. And when Mack pulls out the classic sprinkler dance move, I watch Dakota hold on to her hat with one arm and tip her head back in laughter.
Goddamn. She’s so fucking pretty when she’s comfortable and secure enough to be carefree. I love getting to see her this way.
“Oh, fuck. Is Bennett actually hitting on her?” Griff asks, nudging my shoulder with his and pointing his glass of whiskey toward the end of the bar where Bennett is standing next to a woman with long, auburn hair.
“No way. Not my big brother. I mean, he’s not celibate, at least I don’t think he is at the moment—though, I wouldn’t put it past him as punishment for losing in the first round of playoffs—but he hasn’t sought out a girlever. They come to him, and on the rare occasion he deems them worthy of his time, he doesn’t have to do or say much to seal the deal,” Jax clarifies, shaking his head in disbelief.
“It looks like our Benny boy is not only hitting on this girl, but did I just see that stoic motherfucker laugh?” Griff questions, raising his eyebrows.
“Holy shit. He did. He didn’t just chuckle. He fucking cackled at whatever she just said,” I point out, nearly spitting out my drink.
“Carse, go see if he’s hitting on her. Ten bucks says he gets shot down wearing that outfit. No way is anyone going to take him seriously.” Jax beams manically.
“Deal,” I say, wandering over to the other side of the bar, where Bennett is talking to and most definitely hitting on a girl who looks to be about my age.
“Come find me later, Benny,” the girl waves as she walks toward the front of the stage, where a group of her friends are waiting.
