Glo sat next to him, bobbing her head to the music.
Shoot. Knox did know how to have fun. Maybe too much fun, once upon a time. But still, of course he knew how to break loose, let go…
Okay, maybe it had been a serious while since he’d hung out at the Bulldog Saloon. Hadn’t even realized the former owners had sold out to new management. The century-old watering hole had undergone a makeover, including a new speaker system for the stage in front. New ironwork lighting hung from weathered beams, and the makeover had opened the walls to the copper brewery tanks now housed in the former livery stable. Tufted leather high chairs replaced the previous tractor seat barstools and were now pushed up to the freshly stained and polished oak bar.
The new owners had kept the aged mirror over the back of the bar, but now flanked it with two flat-screen televisions. Tonight, a baseball game—a local feed of the Helena Brewers—played on one screen; a hockey game —not the Blue Ox, Knox noticed—played on the other, both with the sound off.
The makeover had included a fresh polish of the floor, and a few locals had enticed their dates out for a dance. Knox recognized the guy at the mic as Turner Berry, the foreman at the Stinson ranch. He’d also seen the man at church a couple times with his beautiful cowgirl wife and their son.
“Make a hole, guys. Nachos coming in, nine o’clock.”
Knox looked up and spotted Tannie Bower holding a massive plate of chicken nachos. Glo and Tate moved their drinks, along with Kelsey’s lemonade and Knox’s boring lemon-infused water, and Tannie set the plate of nachos in the middle. Knox wanted to order a beer, but he was the keeper of the car keys tonight.
“Long time no see, Knox,” Tannie said. She wore her bleached blonde hair in a high ponytail, pretty and young, and he could hardly believe Chelsea’s kid sister had grown into such a beauty. He remembered her as a bony-kneed ten-year-old when he’d dated Chelsea. If “dated” was the right word. More like a clandestine affair that was high on his list of regrets.
Her gaze flickered to Glo, then Kelsey. Finally, back to Knox, just a hint of the past in her eyes. No doubt she blamed him for her big sister’s departure from Geraldine. He did too, frankly.
He should have steered clear of the Bulldog. But his other option for grub and a dance floor was the fine dining at Granite Ridge Lodge, twenty miles west.
Tannie tucked her tray under her arm, hung her hand on it. “How’s your brother?”
Which one? The question tipped Knox’s lips when Tate piped up. “Somewhere overseas, saving us from terrorists.”
Oh, Ford. Of course Tannie would have an eye for his handsome, charming youngest brother.
“I’ll pray he gets home safely. It seems all the best ones leave town. Anything else I can get you guys?”
Tate shook his head, and Knox ignored the barb and turned his attention on Kelsey.
She took a plate from Glo and dragged a couple chips onto her plate.
Onstage, Turner started with a song about broken hearts and letting go, and Knox couldn’t help himself.
“You okay, Kelsey?”
She glanced up at him. Pale blue eyes, and they looked at him for a second, empty before they focused on him.
“So, not really at all, huh?”
She gave him a small smile. “No. I was thinking that this song is a Brett Young cover. ‘Mercy.’ We’re supposed to be opening for him tonight.”
“Let it go, Kels,” Glo said, filling her own plate. “Have some fun.”
“Speaking of—how about a dance, Glo?” Tate was sliding up from his chair and holding out his hand.
Glo looked up, her eyes big, then smiled—and if only it were that easy. Knox shook his head as Tate took her hand and weaved through the crowd to the dance floor.
Glo came up to his shoulder, but he bent a little and took her into his arms.
Kelsey turned back to her nachos. “I think Glo likes him.”
“I think the feelings are mutual. I haven’t seen Tate quite so smiley since…okay, maybe I don’t know. He left town not long after he left the military, and hasn’t been around much since then.”
“Why?” She let a piece of long cheese dangle into her mouth and wrapped her tongue around it, grinning as she slurped it in. “Oops.”
Something happened to his stomach with the sight of her sudden smile.
“Oh, it’s a long story. I lost my cool…got him in trouble with my Dad. He and dad had it out, and Tate took off.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You…lost your cool? I don’t see that.”
“Not now, maybe, but I had my dark days. Wild, angry… It wasn’t a good season.” And frankly, he’d spent quite a lot of it here. He hadn’t realized how many ghosts still lingered, despite the makeover.
“Your mom said you wanted to be a professional bull rider.”
He rolled his eyes. “What didn’t my mom tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me if you could dance.” She met his eyes, tucked her lower lip between her teeth.
Oh. Really. He glanced at Tate, who picked that moment to meet his gaze and raise an eyebrow.
Mentally, Knox wrapped his hands around the bull rope, knocked himself in the chest a couple times. Then he got up from the chair, and held out his hand. “Yeah, I can dance.”
She smiled, the distance leaving her gaze.
And when she wiped her hand and took his, something sweet curled through him.
Just because he’d etched a few bad memories into the walls of the Bulldog didn’t mean he couldn’t carve out a few new good ones.
And in case anyone in this small town thought he wasn’t over Chelsea Bower and her windy exit from his life…
He swung Kelsey into his arms. He took her left hand and put it on his shoulder. Then he took her other hand. “Hold on to me and let me lead. I got this.”
She looked up at him, just a little hint of question in her gaze. He leaned his mouth to her ear. “Quick, quick, slow…”
He moved with his words, and she caught on quick, probably already knew the two-step. But she hung onto him and in a moment, they’d joined the other dancers circling around the floor.
Her hand curled around his neck, those pale blue eyes in his, and he had that sense of the girl he’d met on the Ferris wheel, her heart right there, offered up for someone to claim it.
A strange emotion simply swelled through him, the sense that maybe no, he wasn’t Tate, wasn’t the guy who could charm a girl into her forgetting her name. But he was the guy who’d show up and catch her heart. Keep it from hitting the ground.
Turner ended the song and slowed the next one down. A love song that had Tate and Glo exiting the dance floor, but Knox curled his arm around Kelsey’s waist and let out a tiny, long-forgotten piece of himself. “Stay here and dance with me.”
He drew her in close, aware of how perfectly she fit against him, and began to sway with the music. A Florida Georgia Line song about dark days and broken hearts.
* * *
You’re an angel, tell me you’re never leaving
’Cause you’re the first thing I know I can believe in…
* * *
She was mouthing the words as Turner sang, her eyes holding Knox’s, and he could hardly breathe.
What was happening here?
Then she laid her head on his chest, and he nearly closed his eyes with the strange effect it had on him, suffusing his cells with an overwhelming tenderness, the nearly frightening sense that he would do nearly anything for this woman.
No, this wasn’t fun.
This was a little bit of heaven.
The song ended, and he could have sworn that Turner was conspiring against him when he rolled into an old Elvis remake.
* * *
Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you…
* * *
Yeah. But…shoot.
What was he thinking? Kelsey had a big life. His was here, on the ranch.
Yet, when the music died out and Turner suggested a break, Knox found his throat so thick he had no words. Just stood like an idiot on the dance floor as Kelsey slipped out of his arms.
She smiled, and the trust in her eyes shot through him, took a hold of his brain.
“Wanna get some air?”
She nodded, and he wove his fingers between hers, glancing over at Tate who was finishing off his beer and laughing at something Glo said. He led Kelsey through the bar all the way to the entrance.
The stars hung high, scattered pixie dust across the arc of the Montana sky. To the west, the Garnet Mountains rose in a dark, jagged outline. A breeze raked up the scent of the ranchland around them. Kelsey shivered.
Aw, shoot, maybe he should have…
“I saw a blanket in your truck,” she said, glancing up at him.
Right. “Yeah. Uh. Ma keeps it there in case…uh…the weather can be unpredictable in Montana…”
Way to go, Knox. Bring your mother into the conversation.
He headed for the truck, however, and pulled out the ancient fringed stadium blanket. Wrapped it around her shoulders. She leaned against the truck, looking at the stars, and almost on reflex he went around to the back and opened the tailgate. Then he climbed onto the back and held out his hand.
She cocked her head for a moment, then took his hand. He lifted her up, catching the blanket before it fell. She dropped the blanket on the bed and sat on it, leaning back on her hands.
He considered for a moment and then took a chance, settled down behind her, tucking her between his legs, his arms around her shoulders, and pulled her back against his chest.
She sighed and hung her hands on his forearms.
“Still cold?” he asked.
“Not so much.”
Oh, he wanted to kiss her. Could hardly believe, however, that he’d somehow ended up with her in his arms.
And then she started to hum. The vibration tunneled through him, the song light in the breeze. He recognized it.
* * *
But you don’t know if you don’t start
* * *
He heard the words in his head.
* * *
So wait…for one true heart…one true heart…
* * *
Her hair tangled in the wind, and he couldn’t help it—he caught it and pulled it away from her face, tucked it behind her ear. Which left her neck open for him to kiss.
He’d almost talked himself into it when she said, “Glo wrote that song.”
Huh? Oh. “Really?”
“Yeah. It was after her first—only—true love died overseas. He was a soldier. It hurts too much for her to sing it, so I do. But it was our first big hit. Our only big hit…”
“You’ll have more.”
“I wish I could write songs like Glo, or even Dixie. I guess it takes a sort of vulnerability and poetry I don’t have.”
“You have it onstage. There’s a poetry to the way you woo people. You’re a showman, for sure, but…you draw the crowd in. That takes a special kind of vulnerability.”
“People compare us to the Dixie Chicks, but I don’t want to wear their label. We need our own voice, something authentic…”
“I liked what I heard at the concert.”
She glanced up at him. “I nearly forgot the words when I saw you standing in the audience.”
“You saw me?”
“You’re hard to miss, Knox Marshall. All shining knight with a little Marshal Dillon thrown in.”
“You know Gunsmoke?”
“Used to watch the reruns with my dad in our basement. He had this scratchy old sofa in his den, and I’d lay across the top while he lay on the sofa, and we’d watch Festus and Miss Kitty and Marshal Dillon round up the bad guys.” She cocked her head. “You do sort of remind me of him. Tall, stern…”
“I was hoping for handsome. Maybe a little tough guy.”
She smiled, turning to look up at him. “That too.”
Really? And he didn’t know why, but something simply lit inside him, something fierce and bold and—
He kissed her.
Maybe he should have asked, but he lost himself a moment there as he touched his hand to her face, drew it to himself, and…
Shoot, it wasn’t a gentle, tentative, boring kiss either, but something long banked, a feeling he’d been harboring for a few weeks now.
He wanted her to belong to him. It felt primal and cowboyish and he knew that, but the way she’d sunk against him on the dance floor, and even the quiet surrender of her spirit as she sang—
He wanted to hold on to Kelsey and never let her go. To protect her and pull her into his world and curl every bit of himself around her and never let the world touch her.
And heaven help him, but he poured all of that into his kiss, holding her to himself, and yeah, losing himself a little into her touch.
She hesitated only a moment, and that’s when the thought hit him—definitely he should have asked.
He drew back. “Kelsey, I’m sorry. I—”
She met his eyes, her breath caught. “It’s okay,” she whispered.
Yes. Then she leaned into him, her arm curling around his neck, and when he kissed her again, her lips softened. Surrendering.
As if she wanted to belong here, in his arms, to him, too.
He wanted to slow himself, wanted to take a breath and just savor. But her hair tangled around him, through his fingers, and she smelled of the spring night, sweet and mysterious and tugging him in.
He almost didn’t realize it when he’d turned her, settled her back on the blanket, stretching out beside her, cradling her in his arms.
Almost didn’t realize it when he tucked one arm under her head, the other around her waist, deepening his kiss, molding her body to his.
But he was very aware that her arms curled under his shoulders, pulling him closer.
Oh, she tasted of the sweet lemonade, his mouth drinking her in. And for the first time in years, something ignited inside him, something powerful and alive and not at all safe. Or boring. Or perhaps even nice.
Because suddenly, the ghost of the guy he’d been woke up. Began to haunt him.
The guy who’d taken something that hadn’t belonged to him. He wasn’t that guy. Never again.
He pulled away, breathing hard.
Breathe, Knox.
Safe.
Her eyes were wide in his.
“Kelsey. I…” He swallowed, met her eyes. “I…” What? Loved her?
No, but…he could. Or…shoot. He was probably already on his way, conjuring up happy endings and a life for them on the ranch.
Right?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get carried away there. I just…”
Wanted to kiss her again. Nice. Safe. His eyes went to her lips, roamed back to her gaze for permission.
But she caught her lip between her teeth. “Knox. I…” She touched his chest, right on his too-fast beating heart, then pushed. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”
He rolled away, back, not sure what to do when she sat up.
Then, with what looked like a wretched look on her face, she scrambled off the truck and fled for the saloon.
Tate was going to be a problem. A big one, if Glo let the man’s charm any further inside.
Shoot, the man had moves. And yes, she should have figured that out when he’d all but thrown the gauntlet down back in Texas, challenging her to not let him under her skin, in response to her own challenge, We’ll see if you’re as good as you say.
Apparently, he was.
Because she stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, pretty sure if she went back out to the dance floor she’d let the man kiss her.
If she didn’t lay one on him first.
Way to go, Glo, fall for the bad boy. No, she wasn’t falling for Tate. Just a little woozy from his charm, maybe the Killian’s Irish Red she’d consumed, and the power of being in his arms.
His amazing
, muscled, bodyguard-thick arms. And it wasn’t just the dancing either, which was particularly amazing because he sort of bent and pulled her close, but the two-stepping too.
The man had moves. He spun her fast, pulled her close, twirled her back out, twisted them into a pretzel, his blue eyes catching hers, then unwound them and caught her, his strong arm behind her back, all the while keeping them in perfect step.
Was there nothing the man couldn’t do?
Never mind his cutthroat abilities at gin rummy. And he hadn’t lied about the stupid baby goats. Painfully cute, especially when he caught one and held it in his arms for her to pet.
He’d shown her around the ranch, told her about his brothers, his sister, Ruby Jane, and even the foster girl, Coco, whom her parents helped raise, so much love in his voice for his family, it could make a girl like her, with sharp fragments that comprised the word family, believe in the impossible.
It would help if he wasn’t downright hot. Short dark brown hair under a baseball cap, the smattering of brown whiskers on his chin, dressed to kill tonight in a royal blue button-down, the sleeves rolled up, a pair of ripped and faded blue jeans sneaking a peek of knee, and cowboy boots to round out the Montana bad boy aura.
How about a dance, Glo? She’d practically leapt from her chair.
Get a hold of yourself, Glo. Because Tate was the exact opposite of the person she was supposed to fall for.
Which probably made him all that more enticing.
Except for the fact that something lingered behind Tate’s eyes. Something haunted and hidden, something that came out only when he talked about his brothers.
She recognized the look of shame and couldn’t chase it.
Not if she really didn’t want him to get into her heart. Because then she’d try to fix it, and…start really caring.
And then it would come to her telling him about her past, and nobody really wanted to open that can of darkness.
So, she was hiding in the bathroom, trying to pour water on the flames stupid Tate had stirred to life inside her when Kelsey came barreling in.
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