Buck Cowboys

Chapter One 

“Oh, hell no. Not today, Satan.” Digging the heels of my boots into the scuffed hardwood floor, I hauled ass to the doorway I’d just walked through. It didn’t matter that the band was playing my song and I was itching to shake off the dust on the dance floor. It didn’t matter that after working at the ranch all week, my throat was parched and craving an ice-cold beer. 

All that mattered was bright blue eyes I’d recognize anywhere, even through the dimly lit crowd having Friday night drinks at the Black Bull Bar.

Summer caught me by the shoulders, halting my escape. “Whoa.” She pointed at her chest. “It’s Summer, not Satan. Though you’ve called me worse, I suppose.”

I none-too-softly jabbed an elbow into her midsection. “Not you, dope. Him. It. Gah. Just no.” I swiveled for the door again, but I was cut off by the group of cowboys Summer and her dad were training, so I had no choice but to get swept along in the mass of large male bodies.

Normally, I wouldn’t have minded. It wasn’t much of a hardship, being pressed between fit young guys, who had the rhythm and coordination, not to mention the balls to get on the back of a bull and try to ride him for eight seconds. No, normally, I’d be laughing and chatting up a storm. That was who I was. Hallie Ryan. Life of the party. One of the guys. Always up for a joke and a good time.

But that was before I’d seen Nathaniel Mathews’ baby blues from beneath a battered baseball cap.

And he’d noticed me, too.

Summer squinted into the smoky bar, and I knew the moment she realized who I was talking about. Her fingers pressed into the skin of my arm, and she dragged me to a table in the corner of the room.

It wasn’t far enough away.

I could still see him, even though I tried my best not to look in his direction. His gaze still burned across my skin, following my every move. I sank down into the wooden chair, catching my balance as it wobbled on uneven legs.

Summer peered at me, her big brown eyes filled with sympathy. “You didn’t know he was back in town?”

That got my attention. “You did?”

Summer shrugged. “Dad said he was visiting his sister before the next leg of his tour. Supposed to only be a few days. Was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear about it.”

I glared at her. “You’re fired as my best friend. I was not emotionally or mentally prepared for this. Like, fuck. He never comes home. Why now?”

She lifted one shoulder, but then Austin pulled up the seat beside her, and she was too busy kissing her boyfriend hello to pay attention to my woes. They launched into a discussion about their days, but unfortunately, listening to the drone of their ‘been together too long’ conversation was not at all a diversion from the man across the bar. I couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him.

Aaaaand he was still staring at me. Shit. I was completely busted. Our gazes clashed, and that longtime spark I’d fought so hard to bury lit right the fuck up, just like it had four years ago.

Nope. No way. Not doing that again.

I got up and stalked to the bar, ordering a drink. But with the dire situation I’d found myself in, my resolve to have just one beer tonight disintegrated. At the last minute, I ordered an extra. I was going to need it to drown out the spark kindling into a goddamn wildfire with every passing minute. I dropped my head, staring down at the sticky countertop, and wished for the strength to get through this evening without saying, or worse, doing something I’d regret.

I had a lot of regrets over Nate Mathews. I didn’t need to add to them.

When solid, thick forearms rested on the bar top beside me, I didn’t even need to glance up to know who they belonged to. His scent hadn’t changed. He still smelled of pine trees and fresh air, with the added tang of motor oil. I knew if I looked over, I’d find a smudge of it somewhere. Maybe on his forehead or his shirt. If he wasn’t on the back of a bull, he was under a car or working on his motorcycle.

At least, he had been. Before he left.

I couldn’t face him. My cheeks were already hot, and I didn’t want to give Nate the satisfaction of making me blush.

“Hey, Hallie.”

I groaned internally. His voice had changed since the last time I’d seen him. If it were even possible, it had somehow become deeper. More gravelly. Sexier. Damn him.

I tapped my fingers on the countertop, wishing Anthony would hurry the hell up with my beer. How long did it take to uncap a bottle and grab a few dollars from my hand?

Long enough for Nate to corner me, apparently.

He leaned in closer, and it was as if time crawled to a halt, his movements switching to slow motion. I saw what was coming before it happened. He was going to nudge me with his arm. Make contact with my skin. Touch me.

In my head, I yelped and moved away quick enough that no contact could be made.

In reality, my horny, traitorous body stood completely still and welcomed the touch of his arm against mine, even if it was covered by a T-shirt sleeve.

I closed my eyes for the tiniest second as that wildfire consumed me.

“Not gonna talk to me?” he asked casually, like it had only been yesterday that we’d been friends, not years ago. He had to be kidding if he thought I was going to talk to him after everything that had happened that night.

Anthony put the two beers on the countertop, but before I could even pick them up and hightail it back to the relative safety of my table, Nate snatched one.

“Hey!” I jerked in surprise and made the mistake of looking Nate in the face.

I immediately wished I hadn’t. I took in every detail in the space of a second, my heart pounding. Dark blond stubble coated his strong jaw. The slight upturn of his lips, like he was pleased to see me. The hair that stuck out from beneath his tattered ball cap was longer than he’d worn it in high school, but the perfect length for grabbing if we were kissing…or doing other things.

I swallowed hard; shutting down that part of me that still wanted him. It was just my hormones. Nothing more. A physical reaction to a pretty face and a body made for sin.

He took a swig of my beer, eyeing me over the top of it. “Dance with me?”

Thank God I hadn’t taken a sip because I would have spit it all over him. On second thought, that might not have been the worst thing in the world. Watching sticky beer saliva spray all over his too-handsome face would have been momentarily satisfying. He would have deserved it. Beer stealer.

Heartbreaker.

“I’d rather dance with Two Toe Tom than you.”

Two Toe Tom was the local drunk and about a hundred years old, regularly found slumped at the end of the bar with his graying beard soaking in a glass of half-drunk bourbon. He’d lost most of his toes to frostbite one winter, when he’d gotten drunk and passed out during a once-in-a-hundred-year snowstorm that had ripped through the usually mild-weathered town. Or so the story went anyway.

Nate glanced in Tom’s direction and shrugged. “Don’t think he’s up for it.”

“And neither am I.” I pushed away from the bar, with my solitary beer clutched firmly in my fingers.

“You can’t go. I owe you a drink.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Nate. Not a damn thing.” I spun on my heel and stalked back to Summer and Austin.

They both stared at me with big eyes.

“Brutal,” Austin whispered.

Summer, awesome best friend that she was, jumped to my defense. “She has a right to be pissed.”

“Thank you,” I said, putting a fist out for her to bump.

She grinned at me as our knuckles touched. “But maybe you should talk to him? Clear the air? It’s been four years…”

I pressed my fingers so hard into the bottle I was surprised it didn’t shatter. “It could be fifty years. It still wouldn’t be enough.”

Summer nodded more firmly this time. “Right. Okay, if that’s how you want to play it, I’m completely on board and president of the We Hate Nate Club. I’ll get T-shirts made and clear a spot on my bumper for a sticker.”

I couldn’t help but grin at that and relief tinged her eyes when she realized I wasn’t really mad. We’d been best friends for four years now. Ever since Nate had left, she’d been my right-hand woman. I could never stay angry at her for more than a minute or two. Normally we didn’t argue much at all, and this was definitely something I needed her to have my back on.

Nate could waltz back into town if he wanted to. He could sit across the bar and look handsome as hell. But there was no way I was forgiving him. Not in a million years.