Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance) (3 page)

“My memory works just fine. We went to school together.
Of course, we mingled in different crowds.”

“But you were into…what was it?
” He searched his numb brain. Deckland had been right, he should have slowed down on the liquor. “You were a painter, right?” He had a buzz, and he couldn’t think clearly.

“Dancing. I was a dancer.” Her nose slightly wrinkled
and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

She was
attractive—no, that wasn’t the right word. Beautiful fit better. Wearing only a little makeup, she seemed to glow from the inside out, making her look young and fresh. He was used to Cassie who wouldn’t walk outside without a coat of bottled look-good. He’d guess Peyton didn’t need much. The years had certainly been kind to her. “I’m sorry. Dancing. That’s right. After school you’d practice at a local studio. Do you still dance there?”

“Yes, in fact, I do. I bought it a few years ago.”

“Really? That’s great. Looks like your friend and my brother are hitting it off.”

“Looks that way.”
Her tongue darted out and swept across her plump bottom lip. He had a sudden desire to taste her, and not just her mouth.
Shit!
A man couldn’t trust his mind when it was laced with whiskey. He could very well be imaging how pretty she was, or how pleasing her ass looked. Stuck between a buzz and a hard-on, he asked, “Care for a drink?”

There was a long hesitation as she looked to the dance floor and back to him. “
I—I don’t know…”

“One drink won’t hurt,” he said. A few minutes ago, he’d wanted to be alone, but now, he hoped she’d stay.

She shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

“Great. Starkey, give me another whiskey and the lady will have…”
He nodded toward Peyton.

“I’ll have another glass of red wine, please.” She slid onto the stool and he got a whiff of something nice. He couldn’t
pinpoint the scent, but he liked it. A lot.

Drinks
served, he studied her expression. “How many years have passed since we’ve seen one another? We graduated, what, twelve years ago?”

She nodded. “Yes, but we’ve seen each other since. I believe you were in
your first year of college.”

He scrubbed his jaw. “We did? We didn’t go to the same college, right?” He started for the
shot glass, but stopped. He needed to slow down…way down.

“No, I didn’t make it to college.
” He watched some of the twinkle leave her eyes. “I was working at Sandy’s Diner when you came in late one night.”

He searched his mind, through all of the fuzzy
passages and across distressed brain cells. “I remember! I was home visiting. That was a long time ago.” She rolled the tip of a short, pale nail along the rim of her glass. He could imagine her using that same finger to roll around his—
Fuck!

“I guess so.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“What have you been doing since school?”

“Having a fun time. Traveling, dancing
, living a dream life…you name it. You?”

“Hell, you know I love working with my hands. Ranching is in my blood. Probab
ly like dancing is in yours. Do you live around here still? Of course, you said you own the studio.”  He had a feeling he was rambling.

“Yes, I do.” She brought the glass to her lips and he watched her drink.

“I’ve been out of town for a few years, but why is it that we haven’t seen each other on occasion? In a town of forty-thousand people you’d think we’d have bumped into one another a time or two.” He wouldn’t have minded bumping, not a single bit.

She
shrugged, the V-neck of her loose blouse shifted, and he got a sneak peek of the top of one pale breast and felt his stomach whirl. What was wrong with him? It’d been a while since he’d had sex, if two years could be classified as a while. At the moment, the dry spell seemed more like a prison term. He wasn’t led by his cock, though, never had been. Yet, he wanted to touch her skin. To kiss her lips.

Was he that drunk? He didn’t fe
el like it.

“I guess we
still move in different circles.” She brought one slender hand up and combed through her hair. It wasn’t black like he’d first thought. It was a dark shade of mahogany.

“Would you care to dance?”
Shit! Why did I ask that?
He knew why. He wanted to know her touch on his body. He had to answer the question before it blew his mind.

After a
nother long hesitation, which seemed liked a habit, she said, “Sure. I don’t see why not.”

They moved to the dance floor
, next to Deckland and Aspen. Dillon attempted to ignore his brother’s wriggling brows and brought all of his attention to the woman who smelled good and looked even better. He’d hold her during one dance and then his curiosity would settle.

Once h
e laid his hand on the small of her back and brought her close to his chest, he knew immediately that one dance wouldn’t fix his curiosity. He’d totally underestimated how much control his cock had over his logical reasoning. He wasn’t sure if seeing Cassie and Dante jarred him into insanity or his emotions were just sparred, whatever, he was attracted to Peyton. How had it happened so quickly? He needed to be careful; his emotions were on a bit of a train wreck. He’d just seen his ex-fiancé clasped in his brother’s arms. That’d make any man a loose pistol.

Then again, w
hat could it hurt if he enjoyed tonight? He was an adult, and so was Peyton. No harm in allowing things to happen if the chance arose.

He moved his other hand to her
waist and hooked his thumb into the belt loop of her jeans as she brought her arms up around his neck. Her small breasts brushed his chest and it triggered a burning need within him—hell, a sensation he couldn’t remember ever feeling, not even with Cassie.

Holding her made the emptiness within him
more noticeable. Lately, he’d been lonely, even in a crowd. He’d disappeared from town, running away to try and get away from the isolation, but he found that loneliness lurked everywhere he went.

So,
he’d consumed himself in work. That’d always been his salvation, even when he was a kid.

He lowered his face to her hair and inhaled deeply.
Aha!
Coconut and sage. He ached to run his fingers through her hair, but he guessed she’d slap him into next year and he wouldn’t expect any less. Although, he had a feeling she was into him just as much as he was with her. A woman melted into a man’s arms when she was interested, and man, was she melting.

He pulled her closer and she didn’t resist. He moved his hand slightly lower to the roundness of her
tight bottom. He could have sworn he heard her purr, and yet it could have been his hopeful imagination. Her hands slid along his shoulders, down his arms and stopped at his wrist, warmth spread like honey. Her head bent back and her eyes were full of need.

“You want t
o get out of here?” He didn’t even bother thinking over his request. He went with the flow for the first time in his life. He was tired of watching good things slip through his fingers—sick of being the nice guy who stepped aside so that others could sample the sweet life. In this moment, he wanted one thing and her name was Peyton. It wasn’t like they were strangers. He’d watched her all through school, but never approached her. Her quiet nature and grace had interested him.

“I’d really love to. But you’re not driving. I’d say you’re about three shot glasses over the limit.”

“You can drive my truck,” he offered.

She shook her head.

He shrugged. “Do you have your car?” he asked.

“I rode with Aspen, but looks like she’s not ready to leave. Let me check.”

He reluctantly released his hold as she moved to her friend and interrupted her dance. Peyton leaned close and whispered something in Aspen’s ear. The woman glanced his way, then nodded. Deckland tipped his hat.

“Come on. We’re taking Aspen’s car.
Deckland will see that she gets home.” Peyton grabbed his hand and, after making a quick stop at the table she’d been sitting at to grab her friend’s keys, they were heading out the door.

The wind was still blowing hard
but the rain had slowed. A chill laced the air, colder than a normal Texas night.

“Right the
re.” Peyton pointed to the red two-door parked on the street.

The car was a tad small
for a man his size, but he shoved his body into the passenger seat and squirmed until he found the most comfortable position. They weren’t traveling far, at least he hoped. Would they go to her place?

“I
’m assuming you’re at home, right?” she asked.

He was okay with his place
too. “Yes. Do you know where Brooke Creek is?”

She nodded. “Doesn’t everyone
from around these parts?”

“Too damn many people know too much. It’s a small town,” he growled.

“Isn’t that the truth.”

****

Peyton looked across the seat at Dillon’s profile lit by the dashboard lighting. She had him next to her, and she knew he wanted her. No doubt, she wanted him, too. When had she not wondered what it’d be like to melt in his arms?

“Do you have a girlfriend, Dillon?” she asked.

“No.” He turned to her.

“What happened to Kelly?”
She remembered the rich girl who’d made prom queen.

“You mean Cassie?”
He lifted a brow and his jaw ticked. “We’re no longer together.”

“That’s a shame,” she said. “What happened?”
Nothing good, she assumed.

“Let’s not talk about her.”
His arm brushed against hers and she forced her gaze to stay on the road and her breathing to remain even. He was a mere man—a man who had asked her out then didn’t show. The thought put a cramp in her libido.

“Why didn’t you go to college?” he asked.

“Life took me in a different direction.” She thought it best to keep it short and sweet. It wasn’t like they’d see each other again after tonight.

“Traveling and dancing
, living the dream. Sounds like a lot of fun. So why did you settle back here?”

“All roads lead to home.”
She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled. She’d lied, not intentionally. The answer had fallen out before she could stop. There had been no traveling, or even dancing, at least not how she’d planned. The only other option had been to tell him she’d met a rock-star-wannabe, gotten pregnant and had to pull out of dance school, which wasn’t something she shared with many people.

He turned his attention to the window and stared out. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
Her nerves were getting the best of her. Thankfully, she didn’t have any hot liquids to spill this time, vomit excluded. The two glasses of wine, technically one and three sips, weren’t settling well on her stomach.

No way could she spew all over him, especially not in his lap.
Automatically, her gaze fell to his crotch. He filled out his jeans perfectly.

Back at the bar, she’d lost herself for a moment
while dancing close to him. It’d felt good, so nice. A part of her—a big part— wanted to sleep with him. The possibility had been rolling through her mind when she’d asked Aspen for the keys. But the cool brisk air splashing her face with reality made her rethink her next steps. Once she crossed a line, there was no going back. She’d made mistakes before.

Her mind swirled with questions. Why was he drinking heavily
at the bar? Chasing memories maybe? Everyone had a different set of coping skills.

Could she go through with a one-night stand? Deep down inside she knew one night with this man would never be enough.

She resigned herself to the cold, hard fact. She’d take him home and drop him off. Better to be on the safe side of her emotions than fall flat on her face.

After all,
he was tipsy. Maybe even drunk. He wasn’t sloppy, but she’d watched him down two shot glasses in the course of ten minutes.

Once upon a time
, if Dillon had propositioned her, she’d have tumbled, no questions asked. She wasn’t that naive girl any longer.

Anyway, o
ne-night stands were for people who stayed up past ten o’clock on school nights. For women who were risk-takers, not safety-seekers.

Another thought tripped through her mind.
Dang.
She wasn’t wearing her best underwear. Had she shaven her legs that morning? That blew the lingering lust all to hell. Falling off the sex wagon with flowered, cotton panties and hairy legs would be a scandal.

Her stomach rolled.

Why did he have to smell so good? And look like a model?

She snuck a
nother glance to his belt buckle. She’d always wondered if he was built. A man with those brawny shoulders and slender hips, she’d guess there’d be no disappointment. His zipper moved and she sucked in a breath. Lifting her gaze, she realized he was watching her. She jerked her eyes to the road.