Oh. Of course. How did I not see it? Not only is Jessie the only girl, she’s the youngest by fourteen years. She wants her own version of what I had with Abby.
“So.” I lower my voice like we’re talking about something secretive. “Tell me all about Eamon. Is he really cute?”
It’s just what she needs. She talks animatedly, her hands flying around in the air, telling me about every inch of his perfect face, his laugh and his favorite pizza toppings. She talks and talks, and I find myself laughing at her descriptions. I pay the check, and I don’t worry about having enough money to buy her lunch. It’s an incredible feeling. When we walk out to the parking lot, Jessie hugs me. She seems much happier now than she did when she pulled up on the jobsite.
Jessie drives off and I make a stop at the bakery. The cookies last fewer than five minutes around all those hungry workers. Good thing I snagged one for myself before handing the box over to Scott.
The rest of the afternoon is spent calling landscapers in the area, sending them my plans, and collecting bids.
My phone rings at four, and it’s Wes. The sound of his voice rockets through me, leaving no part of me untouched.
“I want to take you somewhere tonight,” he husks. I love that he doesn’t ask me if I want to go somewhere. He knows I do.
He tells me to be ready at seven.
I tell him to pick me up at six-thirty because I want to have a drink in the hotel bar first.
He chuckles to himself as he hangs up the phone, and I grin like an idiot at my computer screen and silently squeal.
Just like a teenager.
31
Wes
I have to admit, I like Dakota’s suggestion to meet for a drink, and not even because I want a drink. Because I like how she told me what she wants.
The hotel lobby is a little busier than the other times I’ve been here this week, probably because it’s Friday night. A majority of the people coming through the double doors are heading for the restaurant. Most of them look like couples.
I enter the restaurant and veer left to the bar. It’s full, but I manage to grab a corner seat when two people leave. I order a whiskey, and a glass of the same wine Dakota drank the night of the celebratory dinner.
I’m pulling out my phone to tell her I’m here when a hand slides over my shoulder and soft lips touch my ear. “Come here often?” The voice is low, sultry, vibrating in my ear.
I turn into the sound and look up. Dakota smiles down at me, her head tipping to the side. She wears a tight denim skirt, a white V-neck T-shirt tucked into the front of her skirt, and cowgirl boots. She looks good enough to eat, and she smells even better.
“Are you trying to pick me up?” I raise my eyebrows as I say it.
“That depends,” she answers, leaning over me to pick up her wine off the bar. Her breasts brush against my upper arm, and I’m ninety-nine percent positive it’s on purpose. “Is it working?”
“Damn straight.” Grabbing my whiskey, I stand and guide her onto the barstool. There’s only one seat, so I stand beside her with my forearm resting on the edge of the bar top.
“How gallant of you,” she teases.
“Sweetheart, where I come from, a man doesn’t sit while a woman stands.”
Dakota runs a finger over the buttons on the front of my shirt. “Say that again.”
“Where I come from—”
She shakes her head. “The first word.”
For a second I’m confused, but my brain replays the sentence and I hear it. Sweetheart.
I look down into her eyes. Her chin is upturned, and she waits.
“Sweetheart.”
The mere inches of air between us vibrates with her low moan.
“One more time,” she whispers.
This time, I say it with my lips poised against hers, so she can feel me when I speak. “Sweetheart.”
Her lips press against mine. I’m aware we’re in the hotel bar in the middle of town. I’m aware that this will feed the already turning rumor mill.
What I’m not aware of are my parents walking into the bar. Until my mother says my name, I’m happily tasting the wine on Dakota’s mouth.
“Wes?”
Our kiss breaks off the instant I hear my mother’s voice. I turn and see her standing beside my father. He’s smirking. She looks… odd. Not happy for me, but not mad. I don’t get it, but I’m a grown man. I don’t need her permission.
“Hello, Beau. Juliette.” Dakota hops off her stool and steps around it so she can stand next to me.
“Nice to see you again, Dakota,” my dad answers. He elbows my mom in a way that is probably supposed to be covert but is beyond obvious. “We’re going to get some dinner. You two have fun.”
My mom plasters a smile on her face and repeats my dad’s last sentence.
They walk away, and Dakota turns a worried gaze to me. “Your mom didn’t seem very happy to see us together.”
I wave off her concern. “She’s probably having a bad day.”
“Have you told her our fake relationship isn’t quite so fake anymore?”
“I don’t think she needs to hear my words to know that. Our actions make it clear.”
Dakota grins reluctantly. “You’re probably right.”
We finish our drinks and I pay the tab. “Are you ready to go?”
“Go where?” Her worry has been replaced by excitement.
“Dancing.”
She looks stunned. “Dancing? Wes Hayden dances?”
I shrug. “Mostly I just slouch in my chair and watch other people dance.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why are you taking me to a place where you don’t plan to participate?”
I curl a hand around her hip. “Warner told me about it. Said it would be a good place to take you.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “You’re taking dating advice from Warner?”
“Technically, no. More like destination advice.”
“Ahhh,” she says, nodding solemnly. “Well then, cowboy, take me away.”
Dakota leans forward, fingers splayed on my dash, peering out the windshield. “This place is… kinda cool.”
A large neon sign shines brightly on the front of the big wooden building. The Chute. From our parking spot I can see around to the arena in the back, where they host bull riding and various events.
I smirk. “It’s no Bar N.”
She flashes me a dirty look. “That place has its… place.” Her dirty look melts into laughter.
“Come on.” I hop out and walk around the back of my truck. The passenger door opens just as I get to it, so I reach up and grip Dakota around the waist. My intention is to lift her out, but Dakota wraps her leg around me and urges me in closer.
“I missed you last night,” she murmurs, her pink lips pouty and delectable.
I had to wake up early this morning, and so last night I extricated myself from Dakota’s bed and forced myself to drive home. As I walked away from her hotel room, I couldn’t remember a decision I’d made in the past few years being so hard to make.
“Let’s switch it up tonight.” My lips brush hers.