Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(13)

Although Rachel knew Dirk far better than she did, Janice couldn’t imagine him putting up with this kind of childish crap. He wasn’t an adolescent boy to play those games with. Half of her hoped Rachel wouldn’t take such inane advice—but the other half couldn’t help hoping something else altogether.

*

Dirk was nursing a longneck and mulling over his next move when he spotted Don Carson at the end of the bar. Given that Carson was both Rachel’s father and the host of the bash, he figured it best to man up now about the tiff, rather than dealing with awkward repercussions later.

Seeking a bit of liquid courage, Dirk emptied his beer and ordered a second, but by the time he turned around again, Carson was engaged in conversation with Jack Evans, a prominent Bozeman attorney. He made his way closer to the pair, pulling on his beer and waiting for a lull.

“Who’s that young man with Rachel?” Evans asked Carson.

“I believe that’s Justin Knowlton’s younger son, Wade,” Carson replied.

Dirk’s gaze followed theirs across the room to find his brother—the smooth, schmoozing bastard—posing for pictures with his arm around Rachel’s waist.

Wade was only a year younger than Dirk and a former classmate of Rachel’s. He’d had the hots for her for years, but she’d blown him off in favor of Dirk. Now it seemed she’d set out to make him jealous, and Wade appeared more than willing to conspire with her.

“Low crawlin’ sonofabitch,” Dirk mumbled and took another long pull on his beer. Although he was only halfway through his second drink, Evans’s and Carson’s voices had taken on a buzz-like quality that made his inner ears itch.

“Isn’t Rachel seeing the older one, the bull rider who wrecked tonight? Did you catch the replay of that?” Evans visibly shuddered. “I’m surprised he lived to walk away from it.”

“Yes. I saw it, and needless to say, I’ve serious qualms about my daughter tying herself to a rodeo cowboy. I like the boy well enough, I s’pose, and I’ll allow he might be the exception, but as a rule they’re a good-for-nothing lot. I don’t have to tell you I wouldn’t mind if she switched her interest to Wade over there. I hear he plans to study law.”

“Does he now?” Evans assessed Wade while Dirk ground his teeth. “I could use another clerk this summer. Why not introduce the boy.”

“Sure. Why not? C’mon, Jack. I want to get a few photos with my gal anyway.”

Dirk tracked their progress across the room with a scowl hanging over his eyes. Rachel chose that moment to look in his direction. Their eyes met just long enough for her to see that he’d noticed her, before she turned back to Wade, laying a hand on his arm and flashing him a brilliant smile.

“Fuck it. If that’s what you want, go for it, Sunshine. I ain’t playin’ that game.”

Turning his back to her, he upended his bottle, drained it dry in three swallows, slammed it down, and ordered another. He was on his third when Grady entered the ballroom. Catching Dirk’s eye, he made a beeline to the bar. Dirk acknowledged him with a silent nod.

“What’s up your ass?” Grady demanded.

“Nothin’,” Dirk snapped.

“Bullshit. Why are you over here drinkin’ alone when there’s a party going on?”

“Where’s Janice? I thought she was coming with you.”

“That’ll happen later,” Grady smirked. “It’s only proper to buy her a drink first.”

“Asshole. That’s not what I meant.”

“She’s in the john. I told her to meet me here.” He signaled the bartender and ordered a double shot of Pendleton.

Dirk’s gaze riveted back to Rachel and Wade. His brother was leading her out to the dance floor with the photographer still snapping. The band had switched to a slow dance, a mediocre cover of George Strait’s “Marina Del Rey.” Dirk silently dared his brother to move his hands an inch closer to Rachel’s ass. She pulled Wade’s head down to hers almost as if to kiss him. Dirk saw red. He was poised to bolt out of his chair when she looked straight at Dirk and whispered in Wade’s ear.

“Wanna tell me what the f*ck’s goin’ on?” Grady asked.

“Not really.” Dirk took another brooding swig of his beer, his gaze never leaving the dancers. When the song ended, he spun back around before Rachel could catch him staring. The band followed up with another George Strait number, “She’ll Leave You with a Smile.”

When Dirk looked out on the dancers again she was doing exactly that, staring adoringly into his brother’s face. He wondered if she’d requested that song just to rub salt in the wound.

“Ah.” Grady nodded. “I get it now. Fuck that shit. You can have all the rodeo queens, Pretty Boy. The maintenance is too high for my blood. ’Sides”—he grinned—“I’m hankering for a piece of that.” He inclined his head toward a tall redheaded cowgirl approaching the bar.

Dirk’s hackles rose to see that he meant Janice. He didn’t understand why Grady’d set his sights on her when there was any number of women present that he could have taken straight up to his room, probably without even buying them a drink.

“What’s your poison, Sweet Cheeks?” Grady asked.

“Just a beer for me. Whatever’s on tap is fine,” Janice replied.