Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance) (10 page)

“You look lovely,” he said.

“Thank you. So do you.”

“Hi there, young man.” Marty
stepped forward, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. She gave him a side look, hoping he remembered that she wasn’t in high school any longer and she didn’t need him to interrogate her date.

“Hello
, Mr. Keller. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Deckland Brooke’s brother.

Marty’s grey eyes lit. “I remember you. I used to visit your dad out on the ranch. Nice to see you again, son
.” They shook hands. Peyton took a deep breath. She was safe from embarrassment. Until… “How long do you think you’ll have my niece out?”

Peyton wanted to chastise her uncle, but she knew he felt it was his duty to torment every man. Forcing a smile to her lips, she patted him on t
he shoulder. “Relax, Uncle Marty. I’ll be home before my carriage turns into a pumpkin. And I’ll be here in the morning to get Ollie.”

Although
Marty was hardheaded and hard of hearing, he understood Peyton’s underlying meaning. He nodded. “Be safe you two. Oliver and I will be here mixing chemicals.”

“What?” Peyton narrowed her gaze on the older man
who laughed. “Oh, you’re kidding.”

“Are you ready?” Dillon asked.

She nodded and they left the house. His hand on the small of her back as they walked to his truck did wonders to her nerve endings. She believed her body would never be the same now that Dillon had teased it into awareness.

The tingles in her body remained even when they arrived at the party.
As she walked in beside Dillon, her stomach did several cartwheels. Covered torches hung from the branches of every tree, lighting the garden in a soft glow, reminding Peyton of a thousand fireflies. An ice angel statue holding a bowl of strawberries with a waterfall of champagne became the focal point. The caterers were setting up a buffet of mouthwatering finger food and a bar. She got a strong whiff of barbecue and her stomach growled. Steaks were grilling on an open pit and the strong smoke filtered the air. A band setting up on a makeshift stage tuned their instruments.

Peyton had to admit, the
atmosphere was beautiful.

She glanced at Dillon’s profile. H
is jaw was tight and she was certain it had something to do with his tension. He’d barely said two words on their way here.

A couple passed and Dillon gave them a weak greeting.

“Relax. They’re not even here yet,” she said, hoping to ease some of the
stiffness in his features.

He rolled his shoulders as if to release some of the
rigidity. “Knowing my brother, he’ll be late. Would you like a drink?”

“Sure. A glass of wine would be great.” H
er own nerves could use liquid calming. She enjoyed being around Dillon, but she was a little apprehensive how tonight would go.

While he left to get their drink
s, she scanned the guests arriving. She didn’t recognize anyone, which wasn’t a surprise. The band played a lovely soft tune and several couples were already dancing.

“Here you go.” Dillon handed her a crystal
glass. She’d half expected a plastic flute, but who had she been kidding? Cassie came from a family with loads of money.

Taking a sip, she licked her lips. “Very good.” She’d be feeling cheery in no time.

“There’s Deckland,” Dillon pointed across the yard.

Peyton
brought her gaze around as his brother strolled toward them. He wore a snug-fitting dress shirt and slacks, which showed off firm thighs. He was quite nice to look at too. She could see why Aspen wanted to sink her claws into his solid back. Dillon and Deckland both exuded a confidence that most women found appealing.

She’d never
formally met Deckland and Dillon introduced them. “Well, I don’t know how you and I have never met because I know your Uncle Marty.” Deckland shook her hand. His calloused palms scraped her sensitive skin. She had a lot of respect for a man who worked hard.

“We’ve crossed paths,
but we’ve never talked.” She wanted to admit that every time she saw one of the Brooke brothers coming, she made great effort in turning and walking the other way. All three brothers had been popular and known for their talent. If she remembered correctly, Deckland had been a star athlete. And although Dillon had been good at sports, he’d been the “brainy” brother.

“I’m glad Dillon talked
you into coming today. I hope he doesn’t do anything to embarrass me.” Deckland winked, smiling like only a Brooke could. Good looks and charm to boot. Aspen had met her match. “And only believe half of what you hear about me. I’m a bad guy, no matter what they say.”

“I’ll do my best.”
She liked him. A lot. Why had she believed that he was snooty?

“
I think my brother here is just sore. We’ve always expected Deckland to be married with a handful of kids by now, but I think he’s holding out.” Dillon playfully slapped him on the back. “After all, who can resist the bedroom eyes and dimples?”

“Funny. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Y
our dimples are as deep, although you don’t have my charm.” Deckland knocked off Dillon’s hat and gave him a noogie. Peyton laughed at the bonding ritual. The love between the brothers touched her. She wanted this for Oliver—heck, she wanted this for herself. Never having a sibling of her own, she’d missed the love of a brother or sister.

Movement by the ice statue caught her attention. Peyton saw Dante
. “Dillon.” He didn’t hear her. She pecked him on the shoulder and he looked at her over the crook of Deckland’s beefy arm. Wriggling her brows, Deckland must have seen Dante too. He dropped his arm and Dillon almost lost his balance.

“What the h—”
Dillon turned and his mouth fell open.

Dante was the pretty boy of the bunch. Tall, slender, toned and full of
assurance, he belonged on a magazine cover. Known as the wild boy, she doubted he had callouses on his hands. There was a lot going on in Dante’s hazel eyes as he moved closer, like a tiger eyeing his prey. As the testosterone grew heavy, Peyton felt caught in the middle of a beefcake-wrestling match.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Dante sniffed.

“I see you still have a black eye,” Dillon responded aloofly.

Dante’s gaze narrowed. “Thanks to you. Is there goi
ng to be any more punches?”

“Not unless you choose to be an asshole and then I can’t promise anything.” Dill
on seemed calm and confident. Peyton could see the sweat beading on Dante’s forehead. If the two men were wild animals, this would be the act of establishing the leader.

“
And if you both want a black eye, then keep this stupid shit up. I won’t have my evening ruined because you two crazy hooligans are busy comparing nut size.” Deckland squinted. “Sorry, ladies.” He looked from Peyton to Cassie, who Peyton had just noticed.

Cassie wore a low-cut red sequined dress that was a fitting contrast with her pale blonde locks.
No denying the woman could turn the head of most men with her firm girls and shapely curves.

“How about a drink?” D
ante asked.

“I have one already.” Dillon held up his bottle.

“Then I’ll catch up with you later.” Dante gave a quick nod.

“Honey, let’
s go say hello to Rob McDaniel. He’s driven a while to be here to celebrate with us.” Cassie laid her hand in the crook of Dante’s elbow then subtly slid a curious gaze toward Peyton. Although she didn’t know Cassie beyond passing each other in school, Peyton could have sworn there was an unspoken nippiness from the other woman. Peyton didn’t want to hate Cassie, or even dislike her. As an elementary teacher, she received great reviews.

Peyton
guessed Cassie could be jealous—not of Peyton, but the fact that she was here with Dillon. Cassie was lucky to have one beefy Brooke cowboy in a lifetime, and here she’d had two. The woman must be quite the catch. Yet, she’d made her choice and she’d have to live with it, and Peyton certainly didn’t feel sorry for the woman.

Once Dante and Cassie walked away, Deckland patted Dillon’s shoulder. “I’ve got to give it to you, brother. You handled that well.” And he turned to Peyton. “I hope you have a good time
tonight, sweetheart. I’m going to mingle. Maybe I can bum a dance later.”

“Sure. I’d li
ke that,” Peyton said.

Alone with Dill
on, she motioned for him to follow her to a secluded table. She sat and crossed her legs, aware that the hem of the skirt lifted mid-thigh. She started to tug it down, but thought better. She liked the shape of her legs and didn’t mind giving Dillon a peek. “Was it hard for you? Seeing them together again?”

“W
hat? Hard not to black his other eye?” Dillon sat across from her. “Relatively easy though. He is my brother, but he’s an ass to boot. They were made for one another.”

“He certainly has a reputation with the ladies
.” She sipped her wine and it warmed her, or maybe it was the fact that Dillon sat close and she could feel heat radiating from his body. For whatever reason, she was relaxed and found being with him quite comfortable. She leaned back on elbow and sized him up. “How did you get your reputation, Dillon?”

His brows lifted. “My reputation? And by chance what is that reputation?”

“Quiet, confident, charming and upstanding. The smart brother. All good qualities.” He shifted and his knee brushed hers. Electricity zapped her.

“
Nothing bad?” He brought the bottle to his lips and drank. She wished his mouth was on hers. She wanted to taste him, more than ever.

“
Didn’t you get a degree in engineering?” she asked.

“Civil engineering. I had lots of theoretical ideas I wanted to put in place on the ranch.”

“Have you?” She shifted and ran her knee along his thigh. His gaze dropped to her leg and back up to meet her gaze. He made no effort to hide his growing zipper.

“Not yet.” His husky voice tickled her inner thighs.

She took a sip and swirled the wine in her mouth, debating if she’d continue down this path of subtle flirting or pull back. As rusty as she was at this, it was nice. “Don’t lose your dreams.”

“And what are yours?”

“I’m living them. I love to dance and to help others to learn the art.”

“Of course
.” He drained his beer and set the empty bottle on the table. “You no longer miss New York?”

“Some dreams just aren’t meant to be.” Although she’d gotten over her disappointment long ago,
she’d always have a sliver of curiosity.

“Do you want a husband and a couple more kids?”

“Seeing you with Deckland strikes some maternal need. I’d love to give Ollie a best friend.”

He smiled and his eyes filled with sincerity. A tingle spread down
her backbone and spread like roots through her core. Her heart raced like a handful of butterflies had been released inside. At this moment, she didn’t care about the future. She needed him.

“Do you think it’d be rude if w
e didn’t stick around for steak?” she asked.

He scratched his jaw. “I’d have to answer that by saying I wouldn’t care one way or the other. I made my presence, that’s all. You want to leave?”

“Yes.”

****

Dillon stood in the middle of the living room as anticipation left a heated trail through his veins. Peyton hadn’t said much on the way from the party to her house, but the sultry look in her eyes had him revved up. Did she want him too?

He heard the door to the bathroom open and he realized he was about to find out.

There she was, the dress was gone in exchange for a red robe that ended mid-thigh—an unsafe region for his dirty thoughts. His cock shot up like a board at the same time he felt like he’d been hit in the head by one. As he moved his gaze hungrily over her sweet curves, his blood pressure rose to an excruciating pounding.

Oh for Pete’s sake!

She was lovely.

He couldn’t focus on one spot on her body because it all entic
ed him. Her honeyed eyes that seemed to rip into his soul. The tops of her firm breasts that peeked out behind the skimpy V-neck, pleading with him to mold them in his palms. Her long bare legs that made him wonder how they’d feel wrapped around his hips, bucking and riding. She practically had him falling to his knees.

Rea
lizing if he didn’t calm down, he was going to make a real fool of himself. His gun was fully loaded and ready to shoot—and a woman like Peyton deserved a slow hand.   

Stripping
off his Stetson, he tossed it onto the couch and took a step forward. His dick ached in the confines of his jeans and he hoped that soon she’d loosen the zipper and help him out. He bet she knew exactly how to rope a cowboy.

Damn. H
e couldn’t remember the last time he’d been roused like this—if ever. Beyond a few girls in high school, then Cassie and the near-encounter with Leslie Bakerfield, he didn’t remember ever being this, well, hard, or this close to squirting the evidence without a single touch. He said a little prayer, hoping he didn’t screw this up. He’d never live down coming in his jeans.