Page 20 of Throw Down

“Or a cigarette,” Aiden cracked.

Cal ignored the interruption, still focused on Nate as he helped pack the surgical kit.“Most of us are headed to the Trophy Club after work for Aiden's birthday,” he said.“You should join us. Bring Tucker.I want to talk to him about this year’s roundup.”

Nate grimaced. “We’ll see. You know how Tuck is.”

“B-b-but…it’s my birthday,” Aiden gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded.He whirled on Briar and demanded, “You’ll be there, at least.Won’t you?”

“Uh—” Briar's eyes darted around the group.“I’m not sure I’m the type of customer a redneck dive like that wants.”

“Ah, bullshit.” Cal was smiling as if he understood exactly how Briar felt, but that couldn't be possible.Calvin Craig was the poster boy of confidence.If he'd ever felt like an outsider, he seemed to have gotten over it long ago.But it meant something that he'd make the effort to try to put Briar at ease.

“Look,” Cal said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, “I traveled all over the country back when I was riding pro.Been a lot of places. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that dives are the same all over.They don’t care what you look like or where you come from.They just want you to drink hard, mind your business, and pay your tab.”

“Yeah, c’mon, city boy.” Aiden slung an arm around Briar’s shoulders, nearly knocking him off his feet.“We’ll give you a real taste of country life.Good music, cold beer, and hot chicks.”

“What more could I ask for?” Briar asked dryly.But he was tempted. He hadn’t felt a sense of camaraderie in so long.Even if the night was a total bust, it sounded better than microwaving dinner in his lonely apartment.

“Do you dance?” Aiden asked.

Briar's face lit up. “I love it,” he said excitedly.

Nate frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Cal jabbed him in the ribs with a hard elbow.

“Give him a chance,” Cal murmured under his breath.

At least, that's what Briar thought hesaid.He was too distracted by Aiden's Cheshire catgrin.

“Son, you ain’t never seen dancing like this,” Aiden drawled. “Guaranteed.”

* * *

As soon as he walked through the swinging doors of the Trophy Club, Briar knew exactly what Nate had wanted to tell him.

Out on the dance floor, dusty floorboards creaked beneath the weight of dozens of shuffling boots.Men and women of all shapes and sizes stood in rows, bodies stiff, moving together in synchronized steps they'd somehow all memorized.

Briar stopped in his tracks and stared in horror.

“This is not dancing,” he said.

“They’re moving to the music, aren’t they?” Cal gave him a gentle shove from behind to clear the doorway.

Briar could hardly tear his eyes from the spectacle of dozens of bowlegs two-stepping to Achy Breaky Heart, but the rest of the tavern seemed unremarkable. The atmosphere was dim, punctuated by the glow of neon beer signs and the occasional flash of a jukebox.The bar was made of dark wood, aged by time and spilled drinks, and the walls were layered with old posters of country music legends.Leather and decades-old smoke filled his nostrils, mingling with the sharper notes of stale beer and Old Spice.It was a far cry from the stench of perfume and sweat in Briar's old clubs.

Nobody looked twice at him when he trailed after the rest of the group.He’d half-expected the music to screech to a halt and everyone to turn and stare at him, like a scene from an old spaghetti western.

A crowd from the Triple M already took up most of the space at the bar. West Owens was there, looking nothing like his older brother.He stood beside the owner of the Triple M, Michael Whittaker. Ease and love and contentment oozed from their body language,simultaneously embarrassing Briar and yet making it impossible to look away.

Cal sidled up behind Eli Jackson, a tall, muscular man with serious eyes.But it wasn't until he slipped his arms around Eli's waist that something inside Briar finally began to unknot.

Maybe...maybe these were his people after all.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Cal murmured into the base of his partner’s neck.

Briar didn't know Eli well; he'd only interacted with him in his official capacity as town sheriff.But he seemed like a different person when he smiled down at his lover.His expression softened, body instinctively orienting toward Cal like he was the most important person in the room.The only person in the room. It felt almost intrusive to watch, like Briar was peeping on something private.

“You’re late,” Eli murmured, covering Cal’s hand on his stomach with his own.

“Found a stray out front,” Cal said, jerking his head toward Briar.“Had to lure him inside.”

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