“Okay, sure. Let’s go get that drink.” I smiled and laced my arm through his, allowing him to lead me away.
He ushered me to an isolated corner table at the back of the bar. I slid into a chair against the wall, expecting him to sit in the one across from me. Instead, he pulled it around and sat beside me, so close that his blue-jeaned leg rubbed against mine.
Politely, I shuffled my chair over an inch and shifted my leg away from his, though there really wasn’t anywhere else to go. If his goal had been to corner me, then he had effectively carried it out. That alone made me a little antsy, but I tried to play it cool.
As he flagged down a passing waitress, I gazed across the room and watched Cowboy take a seat at the bar with his back to me. He seemed oblivious to everything that had transpired moments ago between the Barlow boys and me. It only took me mere seconds to figure out why.
A gaggle of gorgeous, skin-baring ladies flocked around him, smiling and giggling as he spoke to them. I rolled my eyes. No woman was safe. From what I’d heard, he damn sure had never considered any off-limits. That man should come with a disclaimer stamped across his forehead.
Then I grinned, considering how his disclaimer would read.
Warning: appendages of this virile male are under constant pressure. Prolonged exposure to him may result in rash behavior, absurdity, coarse language, doses of immaturity, and occasional fainting. This man may not be suitable for women of any age. Batteries not included…or needed.
“You got something going with him, huh?”
Startled, I tore my gaze from Cowboy and shifted it to the man sitting beside me. “Um, no, I…well, not exactly.”
“Hmm. That’s too bad,” he said sarcastically. Then he stealthily slid his hand onto my thigh. He might as well have palmed a hand buzzer the way I jumped. “Whoa, calm down, honey. I won’t bite.” He shrugged his brows suggestively. “At least not unless you want me to.”
“I’m sorry. I think you misunderstood my intentions. I’m not available.”
He winked slyly at me. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. That’s what makes this so much fun.”
Befuddled by his comment, I pushed his hand off my leg and started to stand. But before I could, he grabbed my wrist, pulled me forcefully against his chest, and locked his repulsive lips onto mine. He tasted of sour liquor and smelled like cigarette smoke, which made me want to gag. I pushed against him, but he wouldn’t let go. So I dug my nails into his bicep and bit him.
Finally, he released me. The asshole.
“There,” he said, taking a quick glance over my shoulder. “That should do the trick.” I raised my hand to slap him, but he stopped me by grabbing it before it made contact. “Hold up, sweet lips. We’re still waiting on the last party guest to arrive. Wouldn’t want to start the show without him. Don’t worry, though. He’s on his way.”
He wore a smirk that reeked of trouble as he nodded across the bar in Cowboy’s direction. I hadn’t known this guy was manufacturing a scenario for Cowboy’s benefit. And after the way Cowboy had acted on the dance floor about Bubba Ray touching my arm, I didn’t have to turn to know exactly what I would see.
Yet I did anyway.
One very fired up country boy wearing a white Stetson shoved his way through the wall of onlookers. His eyes, blackened with intensity, reflected the colorful strobe lights as one hundred and fifty inquiring spectators followed his movements. The surrounding chatter dropped to a whisper before a hush fell over the crowd, as if his sullen, ominous mood stunned the audience into a muted trance.
The indignant, disapproving expression on Cowboy’s face spoke volumes as to his mindset. Between that and the other man’s smugness over sampling my goods, this moment had all the elements of disaster. Hoping to petition Cowboy’s sensibility, I ejected myself from my seat, squeezed past the man at my table, and stood in front of the demon spawn who had fueled Cowboy’s anger with his outlandish shenanigans.