Page 9 of His Big Hometown Cowboy
His eyes held me as he seemed to weigh his words. “A while,” he admitted, his voice quiet but intense. “Showing up at the ranch every weekend with Travis, all legs and smart mouth and eyes that saw too damn much. But you were off-limits.”
My breath hitched. He’d noticed me back then? Really noticed me? “And now?”
“Now you’re twenty-four.” His gaze dipped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “You’re sitting at a bar with me, looking at me likethat.” A slow, wolfish grin spread across his face. “I’d say limits have definitely changed.”
A dizzying heat bloomed in my chest, spreading outward like wildfire.
While I was nursing my epic, secret crush, sneaking glances at him working shirtless, inventing reasons to be near him—had he been noticing me too? It felt like the ground had shifted beneath my barstool.
“You’ve changed,” I observed, my voice slightly breathless. I took in the sheer confidence radiating from him, the easy way he occupied his space.
“So have you.” His eyes performed a slow, deliberate appraisal, traveling down my body and back up, lingering in ways that made my pulse speed up. “Those California boys teach you how to dress?”
I laughed, a surge of pleasure warming me at his open appreciation. “Maybe. Or maybe I just have good taste. You like?”
“Very much.” He reached out, his rough fingers brushing against the rolled cuff of my sleeve, the brief contact sending an electric jolt straight up my arm. I’d forgotten the sheer power of simple touch when it came from the right person. “Brings out your eyes.”
Coming from anyone else, that would have sounded like the cheesy line it was. But when Wyatt said it… well, itdidthings to me.
“Always had a thing for cowboys.” I was emboldened by the beer and the heat in his eyes. “Especially tall ones in well-worn jeans and pearl-snap shirts.”
His ears flushed a faint pink, a charming contrast to his ruggedness. “That right?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I let my gaze wander down his impressive frame, lingering on the breadth of his shoulders, the way the shirt strained across his biceps, the strong column of his throat. “Always had a weakness for capable hands, too. The kind that look like they know how to work hard... and play hard.”
Now who was the one with the cheesy lines? Wyatt didn’t seem to care.
He set his beer down with a decisive thud, his expression shifting, darkening into something raw and hungry that stole the air from my lungs. “You’re playing with fire, Timmy.”
“Good.” I smiled, savoring the thrill of knowing I could affect him that way. “I’ve been cold for way too long.”
The music shifted, a heavy, thumping beat replacing the previous track. Recognition flared in Wyatt’s eyes.
“Dance with me,” he said, not asking. He slid off his stool and extended a large hand toward me.
I hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not much of a dancer. Especially not... this kind.”
“Bullshit.” A wide grin spread across his face, making him look younger, almost boyish. “I’ve seen your TikToks.”
“You’vewhat?” I nearly choked on my beer, sputtering. “Since when doyouhave TikTok?”
He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Might have done some reconnaissance. Looked you up once or twice... or maybe more than twice. You’ve got moves, Prescott. Don’t lie to me.”
Mortification warred with a ridiculous surge of flattery. He’d watched my silly dance videos? The ones I made when I was bored or procrastinating? Oh, God.
“Come on.” He nodded toward the crowded dance floor, his hand still extended, patient but insistent. “Are you really gonna turn down the best-looking cowboy in the entire place?”
The challenge, combined with the possessive pride in his voice, was impossible to resist. Setting my beer down with slightly trembling hands, I took his. His grip was warm, strong, enveloping mine completely. “When you put it that way...”
He led me onto the dance floor, his enormous frame easily parting the throng of bodies. The space was packed, forcing us close, which I suspected was his intention. His hands settled possessively on my hips, big and warm, guiding me effortlessly to the driving rhythm.
And damn, the man could move. For someone built like a redwood, Wyatt had a fluid, natural grace, a hip roll that was frankly indecent. He moved with a confidence that belied his usual persona, his body interpreting the beat in a way thatwas mesmerizing. Those powerful hands on my hips kept me anchored, moving me with him, against him.
“You’re full of surprises, Walker,” I shouted over the pounding music, feeling breathless. “Where’d a country boy learn to dance like this?”
“Might’ve taken a few two-step and line-dancing lessons down in Austin a few years back.” His mouth was close to my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my neck despite the heat of the room. The bass vibrated through the floorboards, up my legs, settling low in my belly. “Thought the skill set might come in handy someday.”
“Oh yeah?” I tilted my head back to look up at him. “For picking up guys at Rainbow Night?”
