said. “You ain’t afraid to stay country like you was born and raised.”
“I’m glad you noticed,” she teased with a hip wiggle when he spun her out the next time. She glanced over at the bar to see if Rusty was even watching, only to see nothing but empty barstools. With a quick glance over Lake’s shoulder, she saw that Rusty was on the floor hugged up to a cute little brunette so tight that air couldn’t get between them.
The next song was “Down to the Honkytonk” by Jake Owen. One of the lines said something about him having a girl that went bat shit crazy on tequila.
“Do you get silly on tequila?” Lake asked as he kept Bonnie on the dance floor.
“Honey, I could drink you under the table any day of the week,” she answered.
Before Lake could disagree with her, Rusty tapped him on the shoulder and took his place with Bonnie.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked.
“He’s a player,” Rusty said. “You don’t want to get mixed up with him. He’s only interested in one-night stands.”
Rusty was by far the smoothest cowboy she’d ever two-stepped with. When that song ended, he took her by the hand and led her back to the bar. Having her hand in his caused little shots of desire to run through her body, but that didn’t surprise her so much. Dancing with him was one more thing she’d have to be careful about.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she protested.
“Nope, I’m not,” he said. “But I will warn you of danger when it’s right under your nose.”
“Like a big brother?” she asked.
“Something like that,” he chuckled.
* * *
Rusty wondered if Bonnie felt the heat between them like he did. He’d been attracted to her wild, free spirit from the first time he saw her, and that had grown through the months. He’d never let her know that though—not when he had to run her off to even get a chance at the ranch.
She was staring right into his eyes and then a woman touched him on the arm. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Rusty Dawson. You snuck out of the house without even tellin’ me goodbye last month, and you never called me. I’m not just a one-night stand. I’m a good woman, and you’re a bastard. I’ve waited four whole weeks to hear from you.”
“You’re drunk, Sandy,” he said.
“Yeah, but I’ll be sober tomorrow, and you’ll still be a bastard.” She turned her attention toward Bonnie. “You’re one of Ezra’s daughters, ain’t you? Well, honey,” she draped an arm around Bonnie’s shoulders, “Rusty is just like Ezra, bastard to the bone. Don’t let yourself get mixed up with him.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Rusty said.
“I agree,” Bonnie said.
“You’ll wish you’d listened to me”—Sandy slurred her words—“because I know what I’m talkin’ about. He might marry you, but it’ll only be to get the ranch. He’ll never be faithful. Every time your turn your back, he’ll be lookin’ to get some on the side. You mark my words.”
“I’m so sorry about that,” Rusty said as he walked across the parking lot with her. “She was drunk off her ass. I took her home, put her to bed, and left. She got the impression that we’d slept together, but we didn’t.”
“Hey, you don’t owe me any apologies,” Bonnie told him. “We all make mistakes.”
“Tell me about yours.” He grinned.
“I would if we had some of Ezra’s moonshine, but that’s all gone, so…” She shrugged.
“It’s not Ezra’s, but I’ve got a pint of blackberry ’shine in the bunkhouse. Want to share a few shots with me, and talk about all our mistakes?” He caged her with an arm on each side of her against the door of her truck.
“Are you flirtin’ with me?” she asked bluntly.
He removed his hands and shook his head. “Nope. With all the noise around us, I had to lean in real close so you could hear me.”
“You really think gettin’ me drunk would make me tell all my secrets?” she giggled. “Honey, I’m not one of them sad drunks who talks about how the world’s not treating her right. I’m a happy drunk, one who don’t give a damn what she says or does.” She was remembering the night that she and her two sisters had gotten drunk on the last of Ezra’s ’shine. Or at least Shiloh and Abby Joy did—she herself had enough ’shine sense to take a few sips and leave it alone, being