Page 112 of One Night Only
Cole tips his hat, nodding at Emily with that panty-melting grin he’s perfected over the years. He flashes me a knowing smirk, taking her hand and kissing the back of it instead of shaking it, in a move not unlike one my own. I scowl.
“Come on, y’all, we’re over here.” Cole turns, waving us with him to where a few tables have been pushed together, surrounded by a bunch of familiar guys and girls who all cheer the second they see me.
I introduce Emily to everyone, never once letting her go. Even when she starts talking to Darcy, Cole’s friend-with-benefits, and Millie, who finally made it back from the bar with a tray full of shots and red-rimmed eyes like she’d been crying—I don’tknow what the hell that’s about—I stay close enough that I can keep my hand on my girl at all times—her shoulder, her waist, her ass, I just always need to be touching her. I’m lowkey obsessed with this woman and I am not even ashamed to admit it.
“When’d you get home, man?” Jax asks, clinking his bottle of Pabst with mine. “Austin didn’t mention nothing.” Jax is a ranch hand at Rattlesnake.
“Does he ever?” I laugh. My brother is the polar opposite of me. Quiet, reserved, gruff, and closed off. Most people automatically assume he’s an asshole, and he kind of is. But deep down, he’s still the same old big brother who used to buy me and these guys beer when we had no business getting drunk at fifteen.
“Well, it’s good to have you home, son.” Wyatt, one of the other guys, slaps me on my back, grinning mischievously at me. “Now, you gonna let me whoop your ass at pool or what?”
I throw my head back with a laugh, placing my beer down. But before I follow the guys to the pool table, I stop by my love who is deep in conversation with the girls, and I lean in from behind, pressing my lips to her soft cheek with a whispered, “I’m going to kick some ass in pool.”
Smiling, she leans into me and closes her eyes, and as I give her cheek another kiss, my eyes find Millie’s across the table to see her watching on with a faraway smile that contradicts the uncharacteristic sadness in her eyes. And I know something is going on with her. She’s seemed off since she’s been home, which is so not like her. I make a mental note to get to the bottom of it before I leave, giving Emily’s hip a quick squeeze and taking off to join the guys at the designated pool table.
I’ve been playing pool for a while. Cole and I verse Jax and Wyatt, and I’m not sure how long we’ve been playing but I’m having the time of my life, even if we are losing. I love coming back home and just hanging with the guys. Laughing. Talkingshit. Just being one of the fellas. I need to make the effort to get back more than once a year.
Leaning over the table, I line up a shot, but I’m distracted by a flash of white across the room, and I look up to see my girl dancing with Millie. I’m momentarily stilted, watching on, captivated. Standing back up, I stare out over the dance floor. She looks so happy, so carefree, spinning around to the song, the short hem of the dress she’s wearing twirling up, giving me—and every other asshole in this joint—a glimpse of her sexy upper thighs. When some jerk wearing a pearl snap shirt sticks his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, letting out an ear-piercing wolf whistle, my fist involuntarily clenches, squeezing around the pool cue. I’ve never been a jealous guy—I’m Dallas Shaw, who the fuck would I have to be jealous over? But when it comes to the woman who owns my heart and guys looking at her like she’s up for grabs, it feels like I could go full Hulk.
“You okay there, champ?” Cole slaps me on my back, pulling me back to the present as he sidles up next to me.
I glance at him to see the hint of a knowing smirk ghost his lips, his gaze settled on the dancefloor where Emily and my sister are dancing, seemingly oblivious to the attention they’re attracting.
“What are you doing still standing here?” He chuckles, jutting his chin toward the dance floor. “Go claim your girl before one of those cowboys thinks she’s fair game.”
Fuck. That.
I toss my cue onto the pool table and stalk toward the dance floor, removing my hat and raking my fingers through my hair before replacing it again and shouldering my way through the throng of gawking assholes lining the floor. Then, moving in, I wrap my arms around my girl from behind, pulling her back flush against my chest, dipping down to press my lips to the shell of her ear. “Are you trying to start a fight, Goldie?”
Her eyes go wide with panic as she glances up at me. “No! Why? What did I do?”
As if on cue, the band finishes up their cover of an up-tempo Bellamy Brothers tune, the music shifting to Zach Bryan’s “Something in the Orange,” and I give her a reassuring smile and a wink, lowering my voice. “The way these assholes are looking at you out here dancing, I was about ready to roll up my dang sleeves.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes, her laugh self-deprecating, and I hate that. I hate that she doesn’t fully believe me when I tell her that she is the most beautiful woman in any room, and that every single straight man in this place is imagining what her lips taste like. She’s starting to come around. And one day, she’ll believe me. But for now, I just need to be prepared to fight when I’m out with her, because fuck all these losers. She’s mine, fellas. Read it and fucking weep.
CHAPTER 46
EMILY
Iturn in Dallas’s arms, looking up at him and offering him an indulgent eyeroll. “So what? You thought you’d just march over here and claim me like some caveman?”
He flashes me that dimpled, quintessentiallyDallasgrin. “Fuck yeah.”
I playfully smack his chest, and he wraps his arms around me a little tighter.
“Nah, I’m just playin’ with you, baby. But when I looked over here and saw you having the time of your life, I don’t know…” He shrugs one of his broad shoulders, his smile lingering as the look in his eyes turns a little more serious. “I wanted to have the time of your life with you.”
My heart stammers in my chest, and I know I’m a little tipsy—three lemon drops in quick succession will do that to you—but right now with the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman in the world, his bright green eyes illuminated beneath the dim lights, nearly iridescent, with the song playing like our own personal soundtrack, Dallas takes my breath away.
“I love you,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I love you, Goldie,” Dallas responds without hesitation,leaning down and pressing his lips to my forehead. “So damn much.”
I rest my head against his chest, allowing the music and the steady thrum of his heart to lull me into a state of bliss where it feels like I’m floating. But the problem with floating is, eventually, you always return to the ground, and oftentimes you fall, hard. And, as if I’ve suddenly crashed, an overwhelming heaviness settles over me. Things are too good. Something’s gotta give.
“What’s wrong?”
I look up again to find Dallas’s gaze blazing and intense, a slight crease etched between his eyebrows. How does he know?
