We pass a few storefronts, but nothing catches my eye. No help wanted signs, no chic little boutiques begging for someone to come in and save their entire aesthetic. Just a hardware store, a dusty tackle shop, a bakery—Then I see it.
A neon red cowboy boot swings lazily above a worn door, cursive lettering spelling out: Boots & Bourbon.
Is a bar a smart idea? Probably not, but fuck it.
I immediately spin on my heel, heading straight for the entrance of the bar, but Carter hesitates.
He calls out after me. “You’re not going in there.”
I stop short, whipping around to glare at him. “Um, yes, I am.”
He scowls, his blue gaze piercing into mine.
“That’s not a place for you, princess.”
I scoff, throwing my hands in the air. “And what’s that supposed to mean, pendejo?”
He shoots me a glare as he steps closer, dropping his voice like it’s a damn warning.
“It means you won’t last five seconds before running out with your hands over your ears.”
I arch a brow, crossing my arms. “I’ve been to plenty of music festivals and nightclubs, I think I’ll survive.”
He leans in, his breath tickling my skin. “I’m warning you.”
I nudge his chest with my knuckles, rolling my eyes. “Oh, please. It’s a bar, Carter, not a fucking war zone.”
Before he can spit out whatever grumpy comment is locked and loaded, I yank the heavy wooden door open and march inside. The second we cross the threshold, the air explodes—a booming voice rips through the bar so loud it rattles the glasses behind the counter.
What the fuck?
“Ohhhhh, look who decided to grace us with his presence today!”
I barely have time to blink before a massive man barrels toward us like a freight train on legs.
“WHAT’S UP ASSHOLE.”
I yelp and jump out of the way just in time to avoid being flattened as the guy slams into Carter, locking him into what might be the most aggressive bear hug I’ve ever seen.
Carter grunts under his weight, shoving at him half-heartedly. “Jesus, get the hell off me,” Carter growls, but there’s no real heat in it.
The guy claps a hand so hard against Carter’s back that you can audibly hear thesmack.
“What’s wrong, big bro? You too good for a proper hello to your favorite brother?”
Favorite brother?
I blink, completely thrown.
“Wait,” I say, staring between the two of them. “You have a brother?”
Carter lets out a long, exhausted breath. “Two of them, unfortunately.”
The giant man finally steps back, giving me my first real look at him.
He’s massive, even taller than Carter. Easily an inch or two of height on him, with broad shoulders so wide it looks like he has to turn sideways to fit through doors. He’s built like an athlete, I assume, and fuck is he cocky like one too. His sharp blue eyes lock onto me, flashing with trouble, and his mouth tilts into a wicked, shit-eating grin.
Light blonde hair sticks out messily from under a backwards sports cap, and his black T-shirt strains over his chest so sculpted it’s an act of violence.
