“Hey, take it easy,” he says, his face hardening.
The tequila’s settled her nerves, loosened her tongue. She smiles sweetly and gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Didn’t you hear, Griff? I’m just as bad as you.”
Brian snorts.
Griff does his best to scowl but ends up busting up into a laugh instead. “You could never back down from a challenge.”
“I seem to remember you pokin’ a bear a few too many times,” Alabama banters. She nudges Coop with her elbow. “You should see the scar he’s got from tryin’ to race a bull in a go-kart.”
“No shit.” Coop laughs. “Who won?”
“Don’t answer that,” Griff says to Alabama, his lips twitching.
“Griffy,” Nikki whines. “This is boring.”
Alabama has to bite back a grin at the annoyed look that crosses Griff’s face.
But when Griff stops his conversation to check in on Nikki, Nikki shoots Alabama a smug smirk.
Alabama feels her temper flare, her fists curl against the hem of her dress.
Just then she’s saved by a good-looking cowboy in a bolo tie. “You wanna dance, darlin’?” he asks, a playful gleam in his big blue eyes.
She leans back and grins. “You know what, I would love that.”
“Great.” He puts out a hand to help her off the barstool.
She lets out a sharp gasp as she slides off the stool. The cowboy grabs her hand, steadying her. “You okay?”
She plasters a smile on her face. “Right as rain.”
Damn heels. Her hip might as well be made of steel.
As the cowboy spins her out onto the dance floor, she catches Griff’s profile. A thundercloud’s rolling across his face, dark, silent and dangerous.
She shakes it off. Whatever’s got a burr in his saddle, she ain’t gonna sit there and be jealous. He’s the one who broke her heart. Not like he cares. He’s barely made eye contact the entire night. No. The only thing she is to Griff is a bad memory.
Soon, the world, and the dance floor, is spinning. Alabama feels lightheaded, her cheeks flushed from alcohol, from the body heat of the crowded bar. When the cowboy pulls her into a quick two-step, she has to shout above the din to make her voice heard. “You’re a good dancer.”
He grins at her. “You wanna go somewhere a little more private?”
“What do you have in mind?” she asks, her entire body vibrating.
“C’mon.” The cowboy takes Alabama by the elbow and leads her out the back door into the chilly autumn night.
Outside, his beefy arm pulls her close, and Alabama lets his mouth devour hers.
“Mhhh,” she whimpers, her body instinctively pulsing with pleasure. God, how long has it been since she’s had sex? Too long. Too goddamn long.
The cowboy lifts her up to set her on the deep jut of a windowsill. At that, a little giggle bubbles out of her. So this is her life now. Kissing some random cowboy she picked up at a cheap dive bar. Oh yeah, she’s hit the big time. She’s also drunk, feeling good and fine, and most important, horny as hell.
Alabama’s eyes blur as she tries to focus on the stars above. Her whole body feels heavy, weighed down by her limbs, by the tequila she’s imbibed. But this is fine. She tells herself she doesn’t care what she does tonight. They’re just two strangers who want to feel a good thing. This ain’t nothin’ professional she can fuck up. It’s not a love she can lose. It’s lust. It’s just a guy in a back alley with his hands running rough over her body.
“It’s not the same,” she murmurs.
The man slips the strap of her dress down. “What isn’t the same, baby?”
“You.” Her head tilts back against the brick wall. She closes her eyes in pleasure. Letting the cowboy’s kiss chase away any and every thought of Griff Greyson. “You’re not the same at all.”