At least she hadn’t until tonight…
But now, with her sleeveless white shirt tied up to reveal her trim waist and her hips grinding in little circles before she lifted her arms and bounced up and down in her boots three times before following Marisol into the next steps of the line dance, she looked…hot. She looked like a woman who spent as much time riding cowboys as she did horses, and it didn’t take long for Bubba to realize he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
Goober from the hardware store had his eyes practically glued to Tulsi’s backside, a businessman at the bar was leering at her over the rim of his whiskey on the rocks, and a table of out-of-towners in battered cowboy hats and faded jeans were watching Tulsi, Mia, and Marisol like sheep they’d like to separate from the herd.
Bubba knew Goober was harmless, but he wasn’t sure about the rest of the men and the energy in the room wasn’t entirely friendly. There was a predatory vibe in the air, and for the first time since he’d started coming to the Blue Saloon on his twenty-first birthday, Bubba didn’t want to linger in the reconstructed Wild West bar. He wanted to cross the room, take Marisol, Mia, and Tulsi in hand, and hustle them off to a place where he could be sure the only eyes on them were eyes that belonged to men who knew how to treat a woman right.
“Looks like you need this.” Sawyer, Mia’s fiancé, appeared at his side, holding out a freshly poured draft beer in a frosted mug.
“I sure as hell could. Thanks, man.” Bubba accepted the beer gratefully and took a long chug, relishing the way the cold liquid burned his throat on the way down before he nodded toward the dance floor. “So how long has that been going on?”
“Long enough for me not to like it.” Sawyer crossed his arms over his thick chest, his bottle of beer dangling between two fingers. “Or not to like the way that group in the corner are looking at the girls, anyway. Once they have a few more rounds, I’m not sure some of them will be content to watch.”
Bubba nodded and took another long pull on his beer, not even able to appreciate how unexpectedly beautiful Marisol looked dressed down in a pair of jeans and a loose black tee shirt. He was too busy worrying that the guy with the ponytail with his gaze locked on her ass was going to try to get handsy the next time she danced too close to his chair.
“There’s a bad vibe in here tonight,” Bubba agreed. “After this song is over, why don’t we move things down the street to the Ticklish Iguana. They always have a laid back crowd.”
“Sounds good. I don’t want to get into a fight if it can be helped,” Sawyer said. “Mia and I are meeting with her grandmother tomorrow morning to talk about progress on the Old Town restoration and I don’t want to wear a black eye to breakfast.”
Sawyer was a hair shorter than Bubba’s six-four, but he was an intimidating specimen with a shaved head and a build like Thor’s beefier younger brother. If things were to get out of hand, Bubba had no doubt he and Sawyer would be able to handle anything the rest of these men could dish out, but he didn’t want to get in a fight, either. He needed to save his energy for another day of hard labor tomorrow.
And for hashing things out with Marisol tonight.
He wasn’t going to give up until he and Marisol finished their conversation, even if watching her dance made him doubt he’d ever be the type of friend to her that he was to Tulsi and Mia. Sure, he could objectively note that both of the other women looked sexy when they danced, but he didn’t feel any pull toward them. Meanwhile, letting his eyes linger for more than a second or two on Marisol was downright dangerous. With her hair bouncing around her shoulders, her graceful arms twisting over her head, and her incomparable ass looking even more singularly incredible as she wiggled around the dance floor, Bubba knew if he wasn’t careful, he’d be at risk of acquiring another relentless hard on.
He cared about Marisol, but he also wanted her, and he suspected she wanted him, too.
When she looked up at the end of the song and their eyes met across the room, electricity crackled in the air between them. He would swear he saw heat in her dark eyes, and an unspoken invitation in the way her tongue swept out to dampen her lips. But a second later, she turned to Tulsi and Mia and launched into animated conversation without so much as a wave hello.
“You two in a fight?” Sawyer asked, obviously having observed the snub.
“I’m not sure.” Bubba scowled in Marisol’s direction, though she, Mia, and Tulsi were too busy crowding around the jukebox to notice.
Sawyer clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. “I’m glad Mia and I are past that stage. Now she tells me what’s bothering her, and I don’t have to guess.”
“Marisol and I aren’t together.” Bubba set down his empty mug, past ready to get out of this bar. “We’re just friends.”
Sawyer made a skeptical noise. “That look didn’t seem very friendly.”
Bubba shrugged. “Maybe she is mad. We kind of got into a fight last night. Or at least an uncomfortable discussion.”
“No, I meant that was alook,” Sawyer said. “I expected her to give you a warmer welcome after a look like that.”
Bubba turned to the other man with a sigh of relief. “Right? So I’m not crazy? She keeps telling me we have to keep things professional, but there’s just…somethingbetween us. I know she feels it, too.”
“She hasn’t looked at anyone else in here like that, that’s for damned sure,” Sawyer said before draining the last of his own beer. “Come on, let’s go catch them before they decide on the next song. I’ll distract Mia and Tulsi on the walk over to the Iguana so you and Marisol can talk.”
“Thanks,” Bubba said, grateful again that Mia had found a man like Sawyer, who fit in so easily with their group of friends.
After the hell Mia had been through with her ex, she deserved a good partner, and it was nice to have another man around who understood a thing or two about relationships. Ugly Ross had been Bubba and Mia’s friend forever, but Ugly Ross was his own unique creature, and far from a reliable wingman. Sawyer, however, managed to whisk Mia and Tulsi off the dance floor and across the room to where Bubba waited near the swinging doors without a single word of protest.
Marisol followed a short distance behind them, ignoring the ponytailed man’s invitation to sit down and have a beer. Bubba’s jaw clenched as he braced himself for trouble, but Marisol passed the man’s table without incident and Scraggly Ponytail turned back to the dance floor, where the girls from the beauty salon were two stepping to “Man, I Feel Like a Woman,” a late nineties offering Marisol loathed with a passion rivaled only by her hatred of anything by Ted Nugent.
He tried to catch her eye, to share a look of empathy for her Shania Twain-induced suffering, but her gaze stay glued to the ground.
“You made it!” Mia offered a welcome punch to his shoulder as she stopped in front of him. “Are you good with changing locations? Sawyer’s in the mood for margaritas and salsa at the Iguana.”
“Sounds good,” Bubba said. “You guys lead. We’ll catch up.”