Cheryl Etchison
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Excerpt


“Can I buy you a drink?”

Kacie looked at the full drink in her hand to the glassy-eyed cowboy standing in front of her. Actually, swaying in front of her would be more accurate.

Disheveled and more than a little dirty looking, she guessed he was a good twenty years older than her. In other words, much too old for most of the single women in the club. He leered at her chest while drinking from his longneck and she fought the urge to crisscross her arms over her breasts. Damn rhinestones. Never in her life had her B-cups garnered so much attention.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she replied, waving her nearly full glass in his obvious line of sight. Hopefully, that would be enough to get him moving along to somewhere far away from her.

No such luck.

He stumbled a few steps closer.

“You’re a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” His breath was a mixture of stale smoke and cheap beer.

She didn’t want to cause a scene. Really, she didn’t. Although she’d run this gauntlet during her college years with drunken frat boys, she was a bit out of practice now. And back then, there’d been safety in numbers, a friend or two nearby to help you out of a jam.

“Thank you, but I really need to—” She tried to squeeze past him, but found herself effectively trapped, hemmed in all sides by bar stools and other patrons now crowding the bar.

His fingers wrapped around her upper arm. “No need to run off now. We’re just gettin’ to know each other.”

He stepped closer and she matched his movement with a step backward, the edge of the bar now digging into her spine, the pain well worth it just to gain those last few inches of separation. She glanced to either side hoping someone, anyone, would make eye contact and come to her rescue.

Figures.

Her chest had been flashing like a lighthouse beacon all damn night and now when she needed a little assistance there was none to be had.

Oh, well. A good old-fashioned knee to the groin should do the trick.
​
She levered herself from the bar, prepared to strike, when all of a sudden the drunk’s eyes went wide and he stumbled backward.

                                                                                                     ***

With a firm grasp on the guy’s shoulder, Michael yanked backward, setting the cowboy off balance. He wanted to do more. Seeing the wariness in her eyes was enough to make him want to pound the idiot’s face in. But starting a bar fight wouldn’t do his military career any favors. Not to mention it likely wouldn’t make the best first impression either.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, placing himself between her and the drunk and quickly offering her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late. I saw your sister when I came in and she told me I’d find you over here.” He searched her eyes, hoping she’d catch his hint and somehow sense that his intentions were honorable.

She glanced at the drunken wannabe-suitor and, perhaps deciding he was the lesser of two evils, turned her attention back to him. One corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “About time you showed up.”

Michael gave her a wink and felt a sense of accomplishment when that half-smile widened into a full-blown stunner. Emboldened by her playing along with his little act, he took the glass from her hand. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Margarita on the rocks. And it’s terrible.”

He kept his eyes locked on hers over the rim of the glass as he took a cautious sip. But before he was done, the idiot recovered, giving him a hard shove from behind, sloshing the drink all over Michael’s hand and nearly down the front of his shirt.

“Who the hell do you think you are just shoving your way in here?” the man shouted. “We were talking!”

Michael calmly reached past her and placed the glass on the bar before facing the cowboy. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you under the impression I interrupted something?” He turned slightly, talking to the bridesmaid over his shoulder. “Sweetheart, this guy seems to think you were interested in him.”

Her expression became one of pure innocence. “I don’t know what gave him that impression.”

Again, the drunken cowboy gave Michael a forceful shove, tempting him to drop the idiot with a right cross to the jaw. “Don’t do that,” Michael warned as he reached back with his hand and guided the bridesmaid out from behind him. “Why don’t you go find your sister,” he said to her. The last thing he wanted was for fists to start flying with her pinned between him and the bar.

But instead of releasing his hand, she held on tight. “I’d rather you came with me.”

He was considering doing just that, simply leading them away from the conflict, when a second drunken cowboy appeared from nowhere, making their exit a little more difficult. “There a problem here, Billy? This asshole hornin’ in on your date?”

“I am not his date.”

Michael looked over at the bridesmaid and grinned, impressed by her spirit. Despite her petite stature, he’d bet that with all the fury clearly coursing through her veins, she could single-handedly drop this guy like a sack of rocks. Which admittedly was one hell of a turn-on.

“Easy there, sunshine,” he said to her.

The two cowboys, however, weren’t as amused. Instead, they squared their shoulders in an attempt to appear more threatening and took a step closer. If there hadn’t been a slight drunken sway to each of them, Michael might have been a bit more concerned. He could handle them if need be, but he found himself distracted by the gorgeous little thing that still held his hand.

Thankfully, backup arrived before things could get out of control. Danny and Ben strolled up, relaxed and at ease, each with a longneck in hand. “Everything okay here?” his brother asked.

“We were just excusing ourselves for a dance,” Michael answered without ever breaking eye contact with Billy. “Isn’t that right, fellas?”

The cowboys, quickly realizing they were outsized and outmatched, took a look at the three of them and wisely chose to walk away without saying anything more.

Danny and Ben remained right where they stood, glancing back and forth between Michael and the bridesmaid, smug smiles on their faces as they obviously waited for thanks, introductions, something. Didn’t matter since the music had transitioned back to a classic country tune and now he only had one thing in mind. “Thanks for the backup, guys. But I do believe they’re playing our song.” 




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​© 2016 - 2019  by Cheryl Etchison
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