But this?
Suddenly, I want nothing more than this for her. Excitement dancing in her eyes, a warm blush on her cheeks, a casual smile on her lips.
Conversation hums and bass thumps around us, and all I can do is nod. Because I don’t know if I’m good, but I’m realizing she is. It’s hitting me she can’t stay in Chestnut Springs, and I would never want her to. How could anyone want to keep her there when she blossoms into this vibrant woman the minute she’s away?
“Where to?” she asks.
“Not sure,” I reply, tugging her back, not wanting her too far ahead. Not wanting to lose sight of her in the crowd.
Not wanting to lose sight of her ever.
My eyes catch on a roped-off section that is only a couple of steps up from the main floor. It’s similar to what Willa described, but the man talking to a security guard beside the entrance isn’t quite an exact match for how she depicted her brother. Though I can see the relation clear as day.
Hair almost like mine, but scruffy, dull, and boring, just like him.
This man’s hair is more of a copper brown than Willa’s bright red.
Tall, so he can glare down his nose at you.
Okay, he’s about my height. Six-foot three or so, which I guess is tall enough to “glare” down his nose at Willa.
Green eyes like mine, but darker like money—his favorite thing.
I chuckled at that, but I can’t see his eye color in the dim club. He’s got a green V-neck T-shirt on, though.
Decent fashion sense but clearly trying to dress like he’s salt of the earth when he’s actually a stuffy billionaire.
Jeans. Scuffed boots. Some bracelets adorn his wrists. Leather strap on one side. Beads stacked over a Rolex on the other.
I can’t help but chuckle to myself at Willa’s description of him. It’s so … Willa. And yet, I feel like it helped me pick him out.
“This way,” I murmur against Bailey’s ear as I move us toward the two men who are deep in conversation.
The man’s head turns as we approach, and up close I can tell that he does, in fact, have an unusual eye tone. More jade-like than Willa’s golden moss.
“Ford?” I ask, inclining my head slightly while squeezing Bailey’s hand.
He looks me over swiftly before doing the same to Bailey. I have to stop my brain from going feral every time a guy lays his eyes on her. But I’m not above admitting there’s a suave energy around Ford Grant that I’m pretty sure I don’t possess. And I wonder if Bailey likes it.
His gaze doesn’t linger, though. There’s nothing inappropriate or rude about his gaze.
“You must be Beau.” We stick our hands out, giving each other a firm shake. “And Bailey,” he says, turning to her. She looks startled when he shakes her hand, like it’s alarming to her that someone would want to shake her hand at all.
“Nice to meet you both.” Ford smirks. It’s not a relaxed, laid-back kind of smile, but it’s not the scowl and grunt Willa prepared me to expect. “I’m sure my sister only sang my praises to you,” he says as he turns and unhooks the red velvet rope. “She’s got a real knack for that.” He snorts and gestures us through.
I chuckle. “A special way with words, for sure. But I know she means well. Still, makes me wonder what she said about us.”
He grins now, pointing at a table for us along the dropped dance floor. “I believe the text message I received mentioned her GI Joe brother-in-law and his jailbait fiancée.”
Bailey gasps and covers her mouth to stifle a giggle, the massive engagement ring on her finger sparkling as she does. I just shake my head.
Fucking Willa.
“For what it’s worth,” Ford continues as Bailey and I slide into our seats across from each other, “I think you make a lovely couple and my sister belongs in a straitjacket.”
Now it’s Bailey’s turn to bark out a laugh.
Ford winks at her. “And you can tell her I said that.” Then he knocks a couple times on the table and says, “You two have fun. Need anything, just let me know. I’ll probably be hiding in my office, so I don’t have to listen to fucking dance music all night long, but you can ask Karl there at the entrance to ring me.”
“Thanks for—” I stop because Ford is already walking away. I chalk him up to being abrupt and all business, but not quite the raging asshole Willa made him out to be.
“Wow, the genes in that family are something else,” Bailey says appreciatively while watching Ford walk away.
It rankles me more than it should. I straighten and give her a pouty glare.
She gives me wide eyes back. “What?” She lifts her left hand, waving her fingers to show off her ring. “I’m engaged, not dead. And you’d have to be dead to not notice that—”
“Bailey.” I stare at her flatly, and she just smirks.
“Jealous?” Her lips curve up, and I know she’s teasing me.
I swallow and hear the crackle of it in my ears. “Yes.”
Her already big eyes go wider. “Really?”
It annoys me she thinks no man could be jealous over her. That she’s learned to view herself as so undesirable I wouldn’t feel threatened by someone else.
To be frank, it’s a new feeling for me too. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s rearing its ugly head because of the nature of our relationship. The fakeness. Because I’ve never been insecure in this part of my life.
But I don’t tell her that.
I lean over the table, elbows pressed to the flat surface with my forearms crossed, and say, “If you want someone to eye-fuck, I’m right here.”
I expect her to be taken aback, but she’s not Chestnut Springs Bailey tonight. Instead, she leans in closer. “And what if I want someone to actually fuck?” She spits the words out and they land on me like rat-at-at-at from the spray of bullets in combat.
Of course, an unwanted intruder approaches the table. “Hi! I’m Dani! I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get started for you two?”
Bailey and I stare off for another beat or two before we both give into our polite instincts and turn our attention on the girl.
“I’ll have a margarita on the rocks,” Bailey answers smoothly, like she didn’t just challenge me to fuck her.
“I’ll have a Coke,” I bite out, not looking away from the woman across from me as I make my order.
The server leaves and Bailey gives her head a slow shake. “No need to be snippy at her just because your panties are twisted up over nothing.”
I clear my throat and lean back a bit in my chair, snapping out of whatever intense headspace I was just in. Of course, Bailey is right. She’s the only person with a big enough pair to call me out when I’m being a dick.
“You’re right,” I grumble, regarding the bustling dance floor.
“Have you decided which version of yourself you’re going to be tonight?”
Her question startles me, and I sit up straight again to look at her. “Pardon me?” I almost have to shout it across the space for her to hear me.
“You. You’re inconsistent. I’m gonna need a neck brace to keep up with all the different personas.”
I stare at her. Really stare. Being anonymous in a busy bar has emboldened her in more ways than one.
The truest thing I’ve ever said to her pitches up out of my throat unbidden. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Bailey.” I shout it across the table, listening to every syllable get swallowed up by the thumping bass.
“Who do you want to be?”
The question is so simple, but it bowls me over.
“I don’t know. I was so tied up in my job. Now I don’t even know. A rancher? Part of my community? Around for my family? A good uncle? A good son?”
She shakes her head at me slowly. “No, those are all things that you think other people want you to be.” She reaches across the table, index finger poking me in the center of my chest. “Who do you want to be? Be selfish. You already told me you want to be a firefighter. Why are you pretending that’s not on the table now?”