Unable to Resist (4 page)

“Hey brother, you done working yet?” Aiden, my younger brother, asks as he comes trotting up on his black horse, Leo.

Simon, my chestnut horse huffs at the overzealous colt my brother has been training.

Simon likes only me. I’m the only one who can ride him, the only one who can clean his stall and sure as hell the only one who can feed him. If Aiden is feeding, Simon will stand in the corner of his stall until I throw him a flake of hay. I’d bet the horse has a few brain cells missing.

“Almost,” I say. “I still need to feed the horses and check the crop. Why, what’s up?”

Aiden’s eyes light up, and he bounces in the saddle. “Doug just called and said there’s a new bar opening up if we want to check it out with him tonight.” He pauses, gauging me. “It sounds like fun, and I
know
you need to get out.”

I roll my head up toward the sky. Alright, so I’ve been working non-stop for the past couple of weeks. Between the two huge cases coming up and the ranch taking most of my free time, I have a lot of shit going on. I don’t have time to go out.

I start to shake my head, but Aiden interrupts me. “Duane, you’ve been working your ass off. Come on, get out and have some guy time. I’m sure you can find a hot little piece of ass to take your mind off the deposition you have coming up.” He wiggles his eyebrows in suggestion, pleading his case.

Idiot.

I can’t blame him though. We were both forced to grow up too soon and too quick. He’s four years younger than I am so, when Mom and Dad passed, I was forced to step up and take care of him. I stopped working, enrolled in law school a year early, and got a degree. Working for the local law firm pays the bills, and the hay we harvest year round pays for the ranch.

It’s a hard life most days. I get up, work at the ranch, get ready, go to the office, get home, work at the ranch then I go to bed. I do it daily, without fail. That’s my life. I don’t have much time for anything else.

I also know that with the life I lead, I have to consider Aiden needs time to be a kid. Twenty-one can be a confusing age if you don’t have time to go out and have a little fun.

“Alright,” I concede, “let me get this stuff done and we’ll head out.”

Aiden whoops and leads Leo in a gallop off toward the house. “Hell yeah! Hurry up!”

Hurry up? It’s only five. Doesn’t he know most bars are dead until later in the night?

I shake my head; maybe I do need to take him out more often. Clucking to Simon we head back to the barn.

After I get Simon unsaddled, spray off the caked on sweat he has on his back from the saddle, and put him in his stall, I finish my errands and walk to the house, hoping to get some time to shower.

Okay, so—I look like a moron.

When I originally walked out of my room, dressed for the night, I had on wranglers, boots and a button-up plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up my forearms. Aiden’s instant, and dramatic look of disapproval told me everything I needed to know.

He didn’t like what I was wearing.

If I’m not at the office, which calls for a suit and tie, I’m dressed in my comfortable clothes.

So when Aiden’s eyes bulged and he told me to go change, I couldn’t understand what the big deal was.

Evidentially this “bar” wasn’t country.

He said that, and still, I didn’t care. But, Aiden insisted I change into something more swag and less hick.

His words, not mine.

What the hell does swag mean?

So, I had stomped back into my room, dug through the clothes in my closet and found something that somewhat resembled swag.

Now, here I am. Sitting on my bed, feeling like an ass just thinking about that stupid word. I’m still confused on the meaning.

Finding the only pair of
skinny
skinny jeans my last girlfriend bought me; I opt for a pair of Converse and look in the mirror.

Fucking. Idiot.

I shake my head at my reflection and head downstairs.

When I return to the living room both Aiden and Doug, tonight’s ringleader, are sitting at the table eating sandwiches. They look up at me and say nothing.

I guess that means I pass then.

“I made you one, too. It’s in the fridge,” Aiden says through a full mouth, reminding me of the little thirteen-year-old who used to make dinner every night because I didn’t have time.

He’s a good kid.

“Thanks, brother.” I reach in the fridge to pick up my two-pound sandwich. Nice.

Making myself comfortable at the table, I ask, “So, where exactly are we going?”

Doug looks up from demolishing his dinner. “It’s a piano bar. I don’t know. My buddy from school is working the opening and can get us in for free. If it’s lame, we can bail.” He shrugs, wiping his mouth.

When we pull up to the bar, my teeth clench. It’s a fucking honkey tonk. A mother-fucking honky tonk. I’m going to kill Aiden.

I shoot him a death glare and he just laughs, totally unaffected by my menacing stare.

Little fucker.

Parking my old Ford pickup in the back, I put it in park and look around. There isn’t a skinny jean in sight.

I can’t believe I let him talk me into dressing like this. I can’t go in there.

Aiden sees me steaming and chuckles. “Dude, chill out. I brought you clothes. I just wanted to see you sweat.”

I cut him a look that hopefully reads like I’ll reach across the truck and choke him. Seriously? What a punk ass.

He throws me a duffle bag filled with my wranglers and boots.

Ducking behind my truck I quickly strip off my dumbass jeans and chuck them in the trash bin. I don’t need another reason to wear them again. Tugging my boots on my feet, I shake my anger off and head to the front entrance.

Aiden and Doug are standing off to the side waiting for me.

“Aren’t we going to stand in line?” I ask. There is a line of people wrapped around the building and, from the looks on their faces, they seem pretty pissed we are even standing to the side, contemplating going in front of them.

Doug shakes his head and begins to walk toward the door, ignoring the murderous stares from the group of people next to us. “Nah, they’ll let us in.”

Taking his word for it, I turn for the door, avoiding murmurs of the pissed off line behind me.

There’s a mammoth of a man standing in front of the door checking ID’s. I shot a look of question to Aiden but he just shrugs and follows Doug’s lead, heading straight to the door.

No fear.

“Hey man, Tanner said to come see you,” Doug says to Mammoth Man.

“Name?” Mammoth asks.

“Doug Larson.”

The behemoth grunts and speaks low into his earpiece. Nodding his head, he ushers us in, much to the dismay of the next people in line.

When I step inside the bar, I’m assaulted by the smell of beer and fried food. It’s a no-joke honky tonk. People are two stepping on the dance floor while a house band plays
“The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

Piano bar, my ass.

We decide to find a table along the dance floor and a waitress with a short denim skirt, cutoff shirt and boots saunters up to us. With an overly bleached blonde hairstyle, her hair looks like it could break off her poor head at any moment. Not sexy.

Aiden turns his head to me and winks.

I give him a quizzical look and mouth, “What?”

She is not my type. She’s not even in the same category as my type.

He sneers, looking pleased with himself. “Possibility number one.”

Yeah, maybe for him. I’ll pass.

“What can I get you boys?” Slutty, dead hair bar waitress asks the table, but eyes only me. Fantastic.

Aiden pipes up. “Corona,” he yells.

“Make that two,” Doug chimes in.

She hasn’t acknowledged them, she’s just eye fucking me, and it’s doing absolutely nothing for my nether regions.

Nope. Nada. No thanks. Next please.

Still, I’m here to have a good time, and I don’t want to be rude. She may not be my type, but there’s no reason to make her feel bad.

Just look into her eyes and give her the easiest smile you can muster
.

“Whiskey, thanks.”

She licks her lips, writes our order down and heads to the bar, swaying her hips a little too much for my liking.

“Holy shit, dude. Did you see her? She’s sexy as hell,” Doug shouts over the music.

I shrug. To each his own, I guess. I nod to appease him, but refuse to engage. I’m not here for a hook up.

Can’t say the same for Aiden and Doug, though. They go into a full-blown conversation on the size of her tits.

I look down at the table in disgust.

When the waitress brings our drinks, I shoot back my whiskey and look around. It doesn’t take long for the bar to fill up, and soon I catch myself bobbing my head and tapping my foot to the country music filling the air.

The band is good. They’re only playing covers, and I don’t mind. I’m a country boy at heart.

Two more shots of my favorite whiskey and a couple of beers later, I’ve got a good buzz going on.

Shit, water it is.

I need to drive home tonight and I don’t need to go to jail for drunk driving. I’d rather get us a cab home, even though I’m sure we could walk back to the house. We’re only a few miles away. My brain flip-flops again—with my luck, we’d get ticketed for public intoxication.

That’d really help my career.

I try to tune the boys out the more I get lost in my worry, but it’s proving to be difficult because they’ve made it their mission to take inventory of the amount of ass at the bar. Blonde, brunette, short skirts. The list goes on and on.

Oh, Jesus, maybe I need to head home.

Patrons of the bar pack the dance floor, and some are forced to dance between the tables. A younger couple jumps up to the cue of the music, and starts dancing the Cotton Eye Joe between the crowds, adding to the laid-back setup. I clap along with the rest of the section around me.

Booze or talent, I’m not sure, but they’re pretty good. And when the song ends, the couple bows and we all applaud.

Between claps, I catch a glimpse at my watch. Eleven. Shit, I need to get home. I have to get up early in the morning to meet with a potential client.

Preparing myself to tell the guys to take a cab if they want to stay longer, a woman brushes past me.

I don’t think she means to, but her hand lingers on my shoulder as she passes, stopping me dead in my tracks. Her clean floral scent lingers in my nose, and my head whips around to see her.

She’s gorgeous. Long, red hair, curves in all the right places and legs that go on for days. I’m not able to see her face, but I know it’s beautiful like the rest of her.

She’s wearing an ornate-looking dress, I don’t know what girls call them, but it has flowers on it. My eyes follow the dress down to her mid-thigh and continue on to find she’s wearing the sexiest cowboy boots I’ve ever seen.

They’d look real good wrapped around my waist.

Holy shit. Where the hell did that come from? I don’t have time for that. I shake my head to get rid of the sudden sexual thoughts flooding my brain when I hear the lead singer of the band speak into the microphone.

“Good evening, everyone! How y’all doin’ tonight?” He shouts through the speakers.

The crowd roars and he smiles.

“Good! Listen, I hear we have a special lady here tonight. How about we give her some love so maybe she’ll come up here and sing us a song?” He laughs, searching for the woman. “What do you say?”

Looking around the bar with everyone else, I wonder whom he’s talking about.

“Ann Daniels, get your pretty little ass up here!” The guy commands, getting the crowd to clap along with him.

The dance floor parts and she steps onto the stage. Yes, I said
she
.

The gorgeous red head. This night just turned around.

She laughs and shakes her head when the lead singer wraps his burly arms around her and spins her around in a circle. Once he sets her down, she swats his chest and turns around toward the microphone.

I’ll admit it. I don’t know the woman, but seeing him put his hands on her makes me jealous.

The spotlight descends on her, and she glows like it was made just for her.

“Hey guys, I guess I’m singing tonight.” She waves shyly toward the crowd. “I hope you’re okay with a little Taylor Swift. Is that alright?”

She beams when the crowd yells and claps, then turns toward the guy sitting at the piano and says something into his ear. He smiles and moves, making his way to the drums. Ann takes his place on the piano bench, and adjusts the microphone to sit in front of her mouth. She takes a deep breath, centering herself, and grins into the mic.

Signaling the drummer, he gives her a wink and the drums pound to life in an evocative melody. Without a second thought, I sit down in my seat never taking my eyes off of her. All thoughts of heading home, forgotten. Gone. My mind was made up the second I knew it was her performing.