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“Ranger,” I say, almost pleading as I reach my hand up to rest it against his chest. I’m not sure what I was planning to say after that . . . maybe to let him know it’s okay to move on—it’s okay to acknowledge his feelings—but I don’t get the chance.
He darts his hand out, grabbing my wrist firmly as his eyes burn into mine.
“Don’t.”
It’s a single word, but it sends the message loud and clear. He drops my wrist, turning and walking toward his truck without another word.
2
RANGER
Ifight every urge I have to turn back around and drag Dolly to my truck—to show her exactly why going back to her place would be a very bad idea. I’m pretty sure I have so much pent-up sexual frustration at this point that I’d never be able to call myself a gentleman again.
I slam the door of my truck harder than necessary, letting out a shaky breath as I slide the key into the ignition. The way she looked up at me tonight, I truly don’t think she has any idea what she does to me—any idea that I’ve denied myself since the moment I met her.
I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles growing white as I imagine what it would be like to finally take her—to feel her body pressed against mine as I fucked her mouth with my tongue. I release the wheel, panic then shame washing over me as an image of Dean flashes through my brain.
“Get it the fuck together,” I mutter as I turn the ignition. I throw it into gear, pulling out of the parking lot and heading toward a bar. I don’t want to drink, and if I did, I’d drink for free at home. No, I’m running, because that’s what I’ve always done. Dolly thinks it’s just me being a man-whore—and the fact is, I am—but she’s the reason behind it. I can’t have her, so I bury my feelings and find the next woman to distract me for a while. It’s shitty, but I never pretend I’m offering them something more than I am. I make it abundantly clear it’s just a hookup.
My chest feels tight, and it’s something that’s been happening more and more over the last year when I’m around her. It’s one of the reasons I’ve allowed distance to build up between us. I know she senses it; I saw it on her face tonight. We used to be best friends, and even after Dean passed, we hung out. We’d do movie nights and grab dinner once a week. I was the guy she called to help her put furniture together, and she was the woman I called when I needed advice. I don’t know what it was, exactly, that caused me to no longer be able to pretend. Maybe it was walking into her bathroom one night and seeing a man’s razor and shaving cream in there. It made me realize she really had moved on from Dean—something I don’t blame her for. I was happy for her, actually, but I also realized I never wanted to come between her and somebody new.
I pull into the parking lot of our local watering hole and head inside. It’s the usual crowd, and it’s a little depressing if I’m being honest . . . a few locals who have nothing better to do on a Wednesday night than bury their sorrows in alcohol.
“Hey, Ranger.”
“Hey, Buck.” I nod to the bartender and slide onto a stool.
“The usual?”
“Just a Sprite.”
“Whoa, tough day?” He laughs.
“The worst.” I glance over my shoulder again, surveying the room to see if there’s anybody I’d be interested in talking to, but no such luck.
“How are things at the ranch?”
“Busy as usual. Glad branding season is over with.”
“I bet. Couple of my buddies helped out this year. Said they learned they’re old now after those 10-plus-hour days.”
“Oh yeah, they’ll kick your ass all right.”
The door to the bar swings open, pulling my attention away from Buck. I look up to see my twin brother Decker walking through the door.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Probably same as you.” He pats my shoulder and nods toward Buck. “Just a beer. Actually,” he says, sitting down on the stool next to me, “was driving by and saw your truck. Thought I’d see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine.” I shrug.
“You talk to Dolly today?”
“Yeah, saw her at the cemetery. Just came from dinner with her, actually.”
“Ahh,” he says, “that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
