Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,17

stepped back and cleared her throat, gave her attention to a long scuff on the toe of his left cowboy boot.

“Complicated girl,” he murmured in a gritty voice. “You kiss me, then back off me. I will make you comfortable with me again, you know?”

She cast a quick smile up at him. “I’m not uncomfortable with you.”

He huffed a chuckle. “Well, that’s a start. Come on.” He took her hand and led her toward the herd.

“I’ll get you a drink,” she offered Quickdraw as they reached the table.

“I’m not drinking, remember? I’m driving, so you can cut loose tonight.”

Uuuh, she couldn’t drink on account of the possible Baby Moowolf. “I just want water tonight. But like…fancy water with a lime. Maybe even bubbles in my water.”

“Okay,” he said through a lopsided smile. “Lime spritzed bubble water coming right up.”

He patted her waist, and something about it was so comforting. So familiar, like they’d known each other for longer than they had. She liked that ease between them. She also liked that he hadn’t pressured her to drink at all. Gentleman. But a gentleman who would toss her around in a bedroom and completely dominate her. She knew from experience. God, his butt looked good in those Wranglers.

“I’ll have a whiskey and coke!” Dead called after him.

“Get it yourself,” Quickdraw said without turning around.

Cheyenne dragged her attention away from the bar menu on the table. “Awww, Dead. You just keep trying to make him love you, though.”

And Dead of Winter, that number three bull in the world, that booty-short-wearing, cologne-spritzed, Raven-loving, bearded titan pouted out his bottom lip. “Someday, he will buy me a drink.”

“Maybe you should give him the friendship bracelet you made,” Two Shots deadpanned.

Dead narrowed his eyes at the number two ranked bull and shushed him. “It’s not the right time.”

“Oh, God, you really made him a friendship bracelet?” Annabelle asked.

“Of course, I did. I made Raven one, too.”

Raven was pulling her dark hair back into a ponytail. “It has a penis charm on it, so I only wear it for special occasions, like in the privacy of our own home.”

Annabelle and Cheyenne laughed.

“You never make me bracelets or ask me to buy you drinks,” Two Shots pointed out.

“Because you don’t fight my love. I already have your devotion, so I don’t need to win you over.”

“My feelings are hurt,” Two Shots said.

“And the narrator disagreed,” Cheyenne murmured, looking over the menu still. “Two Shots told his mate just yesterday he’s glad Dead leaves him alone.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Dead demanded, “Is that true?”

“Yeah,” Two Shots muttered. “So?”

“That’s it. I’m buying your drinks tonight.”

No man on earth had ever rolled his eyes quite as well as Two Shots did. “I don’t need you to buy—”

“It’s too late!” Dead cut him off. “Raven and Cheyenne, I will bring back White Claws.”

“Noooo,” Raven and Cheyenne said at once.

Cheyenne told him, “You don’t order those at a bar.”

“Fine. Panty-dropper shots. They will be pink.”

Cheyenne called to his receding back, “And an order of fried mushrooms and chips and salsa and three or four hamburger baskets.”

Annabelle glanced at the appetizers fast and whispered, “And the fried pickles.”

“And the fried pickles!” Cheyenne called. She lowered her voice. “He’s going to mess up that entire order.”

“Probably on purpose,” Raven murmured, a mushy smile on her face as she watched her mate walk away.

“Happy sure looks good on you,” Annabelle told her.

Raven tore at the corner of a drink napkin as she admitted, “I really am happy.”

And something settled in Annabelle’s chest. Okay. Okay. There would be no more room for jealousy over her relationship with Cheyenne or her bond with this herd. Or with a life she didn’t recognize. Raven was happy, and happy was more than good enough.

The band finished up a slow song, and the electric guitar sang out in an intro that Annabelle actually recognized. She perked right up. “I know this song!”

“Gasp!” Raven teased. “Annabelle Faulk actually knows a country song.”

“Please. I know lots of different music. I have eclectic tastes.”

Okay, now she was taking a second look at this place. There were neon beer signs on the wall, and by the bathroom was a stuffed armadillo butt, tail and all. There were a couple of pool tables in the back, and right beside their table, the band was rocking out. They were good!

When she looked over at the bar, however, there was something that made her wolf perk right up and snarl.

Quickdraw and Dead were putting in their

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