Page 11 of Cowboy Daddies

Sage ignored her best friend as Grady’s eyes met hers, and that familiar stern look made her tummy flip. A wave of ticklish heat bloomed across her bottom.

A loud, obviously drunk voice cut through the saloon. Earlier, some noises and rude comments had been coming from his table, but Sage and Fiera hadn’t really paid attention to him. Sage had figured he was harmless, but now he was standing beside them.

“Well, hey there! You two ladies look like you could use a real cowboy’s company.”

Sage rolled her eyes. The man was nothing but a tourist, and about as real as a wooden nickel. Some wannabe cowboy in an expensive hat and shiny new boots, leaning over their table, grinning sloppily at Sage and Fiera.

He tried to cross his ankles and almost fell. “Name’s Trent. I’m here visiting from Texas. You ladies wanna show me a good time?”

Fiera answered the man with her most venomous glare. “Do all Texans get drunk in the middle of the afternoon?”

“We’re fine, thanks,” Sage added politely, glancing nervously over at Grady, who was already headed their way.

The man didn’t take the hint. He was almost in her face now, breath reeking of whiskey. “Aw, come on, sugar. Don’t be like that. I bet we could have some fun.” He glanced at Fiera. “I could do both of you⁠—”

A deep, low voice cut through the air like a whip as Grady’s stern, growly cowboy made an appearance. “The lady said she was fine.”

With Rose tucked safely behind him, Grady was suddenly there, glaring down at the man like Zeus ready to cast a bolt of lightning from his mountain. The relief that swept through Sage at Grady’s presence was real.

His voice might sound calm to some, but Sage knew better. There was steel underneath that made her breath catch. The current, always running between her thighs whenever Grady appeared, jumped to electrocution-level voltage.

The tourist straightened and turned to face Grady. But he had to look up at least six inches, which ruined the effect he was aiming for.

His swagger faltered.

Not that Sage blamed the man. Grady’s eyes weren’t just green anymore. They were a dark, stormy pine, sharp enough to cut, blazing with a Daddy’s fury that made her tummy flip and her thighs press together.

Grady didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The glower on his face said it all. “These ladies are with me. Walk away… now.”

The man opened his mouth, and, for a second, Sage thought the man’s survival instinct might battle its way through his drunken stupor. But then his liquid courage kicked back in.

“Hey, b-buddy,” the man slurred. “I… I was here first. Go find your own pigeons to pluck.”

Oh, good lord. This man was going to die. He had no clue who he was talking to. She’d bet this guy was no genius on his best day. But when he’d had this much to drink, he should definitely keep his mouth shut.

She watched Grady take a settling breath. “I’ll tell you what, bud. Why don’t you swagger your drunk wannabe cowboy ass over there to the bar? My friend Hank’ll give you something to help sober you up.” Grady waved Hank over.

“Believe me, that’s the best advice you’ll get in this town, pardner,” Hank said, already stalking toward them.

“I ain’t drunk,” the man whined. “Besides, these ladies are into me. If you step back and stop crowding in on my turf, I’ll show you how a real cowboy handles women.” The man jerked his thumb at Fiera and Sage as he spoke. “‘Sides, I… I ain’t ‘fraid of you.”

Fiera rolled her eyes and stuck her finger at her open mouth in the mime of throwing up. Sage was too busy figuring out how to explain to the Haven Agency that she had to bail her employer out of jail. She’d never seen Grady like this. It was hot, to be honest.

Grady leaned down to stare the man straight in the eye. “Listen, jackass. That just proves you’re not only drunk, but stupid. If you weren’t, you’d know the only thing you need to be afraid of right now, is me.”

The man glared, although his eyes crossed a time or two. Sage thought his attempt at indignation was herculean, considering the state he was in. The man pointed his finger up in Grady’s face. “I’ll show you who’s stupid.”

Sage had no doubt the drunk would try. What she didn’t expect was for him to wheel around and grab Fiera and her by their wrists. That was Texas-sized stupidity.

“Come on, g-girls, les’ g’t oudda h-here,” he said, slurring his words and spraying them both with spittle.

Then the man was no longer holding their wrists. Nope.

In the blink of an eye, Grady had reached over and grabbed both of the man’s own wrists, crushing them so hard the drunk immediately let go of the girls and was wincing in pain, leaning back on his heels.

Grady looked over at Sage. “Look after Rose for a minute, will you?” He didn’t even seem to be straining.

“Of course,” she said, scooping Rose into her lap. She held Rose’s head close to her chest to keep her from seeing any possible violence.