Page 60 of Bull Rush

“All right, cowboy. This is your final test. See if you can turn me around the floor without stepping on my toes.” Dakota reaches out for me, and I take her hand in one of mine, placing the other in a very loose position on the side of her lower ribcage. I’m not looking to lose one, and I’m looking even less to do anything that might piss Haze off.

I manage to keep up with her steps, whirling around the floor and turning her almost as well as I saw some of the other people here doing the other night. I let her lead as we spin one more time, and then I dip her gently before she comes back up. We’re making our way back to the starting point when I see Grant take a couple of steps out onto the floor.

“All right. You gotta let me show my little brother how it’s done. It’s painful to watch.” He holds out his hand, and Dakota eyes it warily. Her gaze shifts back up to mine, and I nod.

“Thank you,” I say softly, honestly appreciative because she was able to pack more into the last hour than I’ve probably learned in a lifetime.

“Of course,” she says easily, like she didn’t chew me out the second I walked in here. “And don’t listen to this asshole.” She flashes a look that could kill at Grant even as she considers taking his hand. “You did just fine. Hazel will love it.”

“You want those two back together? I thought you hated all Stocktons,” Grant asks Dakota as he gives up waiting and takes her hand, pulling her close. They start to move around the floor together, faster than anything I’d attempted.

“I hate some more than others. Also… if this is you trying to show him up, you’re already failing.” Dakota stares down at his feet.

“Stop fighting me taking the lead, and maybe you’ll change your mind,” Grant counters as they drift away to the other side of the floor.

I head to the bar to grab a beer while I watch them finish out the song, settling onto one of the worn pleather bar stools as the other bartender pours for me. I feel like I need to keep watch over them to make sure no one loses an eye.

My brothers and I have barely spoken in the last five years, the three of us only communicating to wish each other well on major holidays and to check in about the occasional significant moment with their casino or my team. My older sister, Aspen, is the one who keeps us all united, so it’s been an adjustment now that I’m home to just casually run into each other at the bar.

The song comes to an end, and the two of them exchange more unpleasantries before she returns to her station behind the bar, and he pulls up in the empty seat beside me. His two-thousand-dollar suit looks out of place against the worn wood and the eclectic decor, but it doesn’t seem to rattle him any.

“If you’re already bored of the ranch, I told you there’s an office waiting for you. A whole casino to play in if you want.” Grant looks me over inquisitively.

“I’m not bored of the ranch. I just needed Dakota’s help, like I said.” I tilt my head as I study the details of his suit. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I saw the ranch truck outside. Figured I’d come in and see if it was you and get a drink if it wasn’t.” He shrugs, but I’m not entirely sure I believe him.

“Are you ordering something? This isn’t rented out for a family reunion, and I don’t have space for people who aren’t paying customers.” Dakota wipes down the counter and then looks at Grant impatiently.

His lips press together with amusement as he looks her over. “Yeah, give me a whiskey. Neat.”

“Well or shelf?”

He smirks at her like it’s a ridiculous question. My brother always loved the finer things our parents could afford, and he couldn’t wait to get off the ranch and into a condo in the city when we graduated. I’m not sure he’s ever had a well drink in his life.

“You have Oban or Ardbeg?”

“I got Jack or Jim, sweet cheeks. You want the fancy stuff? I suggest you go back to your golden tower.”

“Jack is fine.”

She slams a glass on the counter and pours it without spilling a drop, capping the bottle and sliding him his drink before she takes off to the other end of the bar where one of her bartenders is waving her over.

“She hates you,” Grant notes as she walks away.

“Not as much as she hates you.” I look back at him, my brow furrowing as I watch him watch her. “You got a masochist thing going on these days?”

“If I do, that makes two of us. You should come to work with me and quit wasting your time chasing after the Briggs girl. I know you loved her, but she’s moved on. It’s been thegossip in town for months about how well those two get on and how fast he fell for her. I’ve got half a dozen girls at the casino prettier and more amenable.”

“She’s my wife.” I’m not even going to dignify the rest of what he said with a response.

“For now. You want to game this out, go for it. But don’t leave town without coming to see me again.”

We both jolt at the slam of metal against wood and turn to see the source. Dakota’s pulled a bat out and is waving it at two of the patrons sitting in front of her. The other bartender is standing behind her, and both of them are yelling at the two men. I watch as one of the guys fingers the holster on his hip.

“Holy fuck.” I go to stand, but Grant’s heavy hand is on my shoulder shoving me back down in my seat.

“You’re on fucking parole. Don’t you dare fucking go anywhere near it. I got it.” He slides past me and makes his way calmly to the scene.

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