Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(58)

She held up her hand in Scout’s honor pose. “It was the drink du jour at my friend Bella’s bachelorette party. And if you don’t believe me, ask the waitress.”

Right. Ava just wanted to hear him say that drink name out loud. In a honky-tonk bar. Not a chance.
They watched the dancers for three songs. Ava leaned closer. “See that older couple with matching blue shirts?” He nodded. “How long you think they’ve been together?”

“Probably their whole adult lives. Why?”

She released a wistful sigh. “They’re beautiful. So in tune with each other. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have that solid connection every day. I wish I had my video camera so I could capture their happiness.”

Maybe Ava did understand more than he credited her.
“By the way, when are you planning to teach me to two-step?”

“I’m not.”

“Do you dance?”

“Yep.”

She frowned. “But you don’t want to dance with me?”

“Drop it, Ava.”

Of course she didn’t. “I’ll only put up with so much high-handed behavior, and you’re pissing me off. Answer the question. Why don’t you want to dance with me?”

“Because I’m short,” he snapped.
About twenty seconds passed before she was in his face. “That’s it? That’s your reason for not dancing with me? Here’s where I tell you that is not a valid reason. That’s a sucky reason.”

“It’s a valid reason to me. Christ, Ava, you’re a good three inches taller than me when you’re not wearing them three-inch f*ck-me heels. I will not make a goddamn spectacle of myself with you towering over me like I’m some kinda midget, getting my jollies burying my face in your chest, no matter how much the latter appeals to me.” Dammit. Not a good time to spout that confession. “You wanna talk about drawing attention to us? Trust me, that’d do it.”

“Chase. I didn’t mean—”

“You’re gorgeous and perfect and a California goddess, okay? You never have to deal with the ‘less than’ issues the rest of us mere mortals do.”

“That’s not fair.”

He drank, refusing to get sucked into this with her.
“So if I wore flats and you wore the heeled boots you’ve got on now? Then would you dance with me?”

“Why you all fired up to dance with me, Hollywood?”

Ava opened her mouth. Closed it. “I like to dance. Dancing with my girlfriends at the clubs in LA isn’t like close dancing with a man. I just thought it might be fun. Guess I was wrong.” And she was gone.
Way to be a dickhead.
As Chase was formulating charming apologies, a female voice said, “Hey, I know you.”

The woman was probably mid-thirties. Teased and sprayed blonde hair. Heavy glittery makeup. A low-cut tight T-shirt that outlined hard nipples. His first thought? She was a clone. Interchangeable with ninety percent of the women he’d been with in the last decade. Heck, he might’ve actually been with her. And didn’t that make him the worst kind of man-whore? Chase shook his head. “Sorry. You’ve confused me with someone else.”

Her mouth, thickly coated with frosty pink lipstick, curved into a smile and she rested her tits on the table. “I know my rodeo cowboys. Bull riders are my specialty. Even a hottie like you can’t hide out in Pine Bluff, Wyoming without expecting fans to recognize you. You’re Chase McKay.”

Dammit. Chase took a drink to wet his suddenly dry mouth.