Page 63 of Homebound

“Me either.” She huffs into the whiskey-laden dive bar as people rustle about. “Anywho, enough of my boy problems. I’m assuming that’s not why you strutted your fine ass over here.”

“No, it’s not, and thank you ma’am for calling it fine.” I sling an arm around her shoulder, turning her to face a scowling Dakota across the smoky bar. Her frown intensifies as she watches us bonding, but that’s her norm, so I don’t take it personally. She flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and turns back to Tyler, leaning even closer to him.

My teeth grind together, but it’s fine—I’m taking her home.

“Don’t make it obvious,” I say to Saoirse. “But you see that gorgeous woman over there sipping the pink margarita and talking to that guy in the black Stetson?”

She follows my gaze with a knowing smirk. “The one glaring at you like she hates you?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. That’s just her face. She likes me. Not as much as I like her, though.” I grin, slipping a crinkled twenty into their tip jar. “I’ve got a plan, but I need a little help setting the stage, if you know what I mean.”

Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “Oh, you trying to get the girl?”

“Yeah, for years now.”

I end up spilling my entire pathetic love story to Saoirse, and by the time I’m done, she claps her hands together, bouncing up and down. “Oh, hell yeah. I love playing matchmaker! What can I do?”

I thought I’d feel nervous about this plan, but her excitement is contagious. “Do y’all know the song ‘Tupelo Honey’ by Van Morrison?”

“Am I a fiddle player in a cover band called The Outlaws or not?” She gives another bouncy nod. “Of course I know it. Very sweet for trying to get the girl.”

“I’d like to think so.” I tap my knuckle against her forehead, glancing at Dakota again.

Her scowl seems to have grown another scowl as she watches us. I’ve never gotten hard from a woman’s scowl before, but Dakota’s?

That always does it.

I crook two fingers at Saoirse, and she lifts on her toes, bringing her ear closer to me. “See, I really want to kiss that woman over there tonight, but she’s got it in her head that we’re just friends, so I’m gonna need a little help from you to make that happen…”

I whisper my plan, and by the time I’m done going over the details, she plants a hand on her chest. “Oh my goodness, that’s the sweetest thing. Yes, we can do that.”

“Thanks, ma’am. I owe you one.” I give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, the same way I kiss my mama, before heading back to Dakota and Tyler, talking closely at a table by the bar.

I’ve seen Tyler around town before, so I know he’s a good guy, but he’s not as good for her as me. He’s clearly trying to take her home, and that won’t be happening on my watch.

They’re drifting closer to each other at the table, and I’m not sure if it’s a natural gravitational force, but either way, I’m inserting myself into their conversation.

I strut right up, scrape out a chair, and throw my arm around the back of Dakota’s shoulder in a move that all men know as stay back; she’s mine. “How are you holding up, honey?”

“Oh shit,” Tyler drawls, giving me an apologetic shrug. “I didn’t know she was yours now, man. My bad.”

“We’re not living in the eighteen-hundreds, so I’m not his,” Dakota counters with a roll of her eyes. “Women can own property now. Shocking, I know.”

“It’s all good,” I accidentally speak over her, which I’m not all that pissed about. She might not be mine, but I’m hers.

She shoots me a glare.

I shoot back a smile.

Tyler’s head bounces between us, and he creaks up from the table, leaving us alone. “Well, you folks have fun now. See you at training next week, Killer.”

“You don’t have to leave, Tyler,” Dakota says.

Uh. Yeah, he does.

He eyes me, and I tug her chair closer, fixing him with a narrow-eyed stare.

He dips his hat. “I think I do.”