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“It’s more a ‘he’s gorgeous and has a panty-dropping smile’ factor,” I countered, earning a mumbled agreement and a hiccup from Grace.
Her reaction drew our attention, but she just giggled into her drink.
“See?” My laughter echoed Grace’s, drawing a connection between us over the absurdity.
“Okay, so where does Rhett fit into this?” Finn was curious, stirring the conversation.
“Everyone and their grandma has had a crush on Rhett Parker at some point,” I admitted, causing Wyatt to raise an eyebrow in my direction. “It’s practically a rite of passage. He’s the perfect mix between rugged cowboy and Prince Charming. But don’t worry; you’re both plenty handsome.” I patted Wyatt’s cheek. Inside, I was laughing at their pouty faces.
Both guys were hot as fuck, and girls were always drooling over the two intense dark-haired cowboys, but a little humility never hurt.
Wyatt scanned the room, his demeanour shifting. Grace pointed out an older man in the corner. Recognition and distaste mingled in Wyatt's visceral reaction.
“Mark Dwyer,” she identified. “Your dad used to drink with him a lot.”
Wyatt nodded. “Yeah, I remember him.” He scowled in disgust, lifted his hat from his head, and ran his hand through his hair. He was tense. Whoever this guy was, Wyatt did not want to talk to him.
“Want me to come with you?” I asked him.
Wyatt shook his head. “That’s the last guy I want you exposed to.”
“I can come.” Finn stood up.
“No, if both of us go over there, he’ll feel threatened and won’t talk. Stay with the girls.”
“Yeah, come twirl us around the floor, Finn.” I tried to ease the tension in the air.
“I don’t dance.”
“Well then, you need another drink,” I said. “Grace? Another one?”
“Yes, please,” she said almost too loudly.
After Wyatt had expressed himself so … passionately in the parking lot, I was feeling sorry for Grace. It wasn’t easy to get over Wyatt Collins. Impossible, actually.
“I’ll get the drinks,” Finn said. “What will it be, Kins?”
“Whatever she’s having.” I pointed to Grace’s empty glasses.
She frowned. “I don’t remember what it was.”
“I got it.” Finn headed off towards the bar.
I sat down with Grace. “So, Finn mentioned earlier that you used to barrel race?”
Her gaze met mine, and she nodded. “Yeah, back in high school. Not at your level. I’ve heard of you; you’re really good.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at her, and after a moment, she smiled too. I was about to say more, but Wyatt’s form moving through the crowd caught my attention.
As Wyatt approached the man at the bar, there was immediate tension. The man, upon seeing Wyatt, stood up as if ready to bolt, but something Wyatt said made him sit back down, albeit reluctantly. Wyatt then signalled for the bartender to bring another beer for the man, who drowned his worries in the drink while stealing wary glances at Wyatt.
“So, who is this guy?” I asked Grace.
“Local lowlife. He was always dragging Jake into trouble, gambling and whatnot,” she explained.
My gaze remained fixed on Wyatt, who was showing signs of agitation.
Suddenly, Wyatt’s chair clattered to the floor as he stood up, the sound echoing through the bar. He grabbed the man, Mark, by his shirt, pulling him to his feet. The crowd that had gathered around them blocked my view, but I heard enough to know it was bad.
