With This Ring (Denim & Spurs Book 1) (2 page)

“You want to know what happened?” Bitterness leeched in his tone as he flexed his arm muscles in time with the new wave of anger that washed over him.

She shook her head, filling the air with more of that intoxicating blend of jasmine and honeysuckle. “No. I’m just saying if you want to get it off your chest, I’m a pretty good listener.”

Her words shocked him, and he blew out a surprised breath. What the hell, he may not like to share but if he did, it was, after all, a way to keep her around for a while longer. He turned a chair, sat, and propped his boots on the seat beside her. Twirling the bottle in one hand, he used the other to undo the bowtie at his neck then undid the top two buttons of his tuxedo shirt.

“I found her with some of my groomsmen.” His stomach twisted as the knot of betrayal grew within him. “I just wanted to thank them for standing up with me. Cracked the door open and saw them.” His fingers clenched around the bottle. “Taking my bride-to-be. She even wore her wedding dress as she allowed them to fuck her, and she was going to walk down the aisle to me, wearing that very thing. I was pissed and yet…”

“Relieved?”

Yes, that was it exactly. He glanced at her, nodding. She’d been so quiet as he relived the mental image of his fiancée being taken by two men at once with others watching, he’d forgotten she was there.

The moonlight loved her, making her almost magical and mystical. He returned to the pixie resemblance. The breeze blew strands of her hair across her face, and he noticed her shiver when she brushed them back. Her dress had thin spaghetti straps and the temperature had dropped considerably. Bottle on the ground, he shrugged out of his jacket, rose, and draped it over her shoulders.

“I insist,” he said, stilling her protest even as he retook his seat.

She touched the collar. “Thank you.”

He realized she was right regarding how he felt. “My father wanted us to marry.”

She tilted her head to the side. “He would want you to be happy.”

“You didn’t know my father.”

Silence reigned between them for a moment before she spoke again, almost hesitant, as if unsure how her words would be taken. “I like to believe fathers want their children to be happy.”

“Perhaps, but Charlotte wasn’t it.”

“I’m sure she showed your father a whole other side. Most lying sl—,” she cleared her throat delicately, “—people only show the side they want the world to see.”

He found himself grinning. Thumbing back his hat, he cracked his neck. She was cute, trying to watch how she spoke of Charlotte. Not that he cared. Not anymore. Had he ever? Perhaps at the beginning but definitely not recently. He shook his head, focusing on the present and the woman sitting with him now. Not the past and the one he wanted nothing to do with any more.

“Sounds like you have experience there.”

“Calling me a lying slut?” She cocked her head to the side.

“No,” he said, amused by her laughter. “I meant with people lying to you.”

“I do. I’d say we all do.”

She looked good in his tuxedo jacket. Real good. He tipped his head back, focusing on the wide-open Texas sky. Stars were hard to see with the brilliance of the moon, but as he sat there, with
her
, more and more of his anger drained away.

“I didn’t love her. Not how I should have. And I’m more hurt and angered by the betrayal of my groomsmen and so-called friends than losing her.”

“Doesn’t negate what she or they did. You have the right to be pissed. If fact, I’d say you were pretty calm. I wouldn’t be. My ass would be in jail right now.”

“I was. Still am.” She still watched him, and he wondered why. “She’s not worth going to jail over.” This woman seemed so familiar to him. “What’s your name?”

“My friends call me Finn.” She leaned over, offering him a brief tantalizing view of her breasts as she undid her shoes. “God, that feels good,” she moaned as she worked her bare toes into the ground.

Who knew watching a woman remove her shoes and enjoy being without them could be so erotic. Finn. He couldn’t place her. He leaned forward, reaching out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Finn. I’m Dustin.”

Her grip was strong and firm. “I hate to break this to you, Dustin, but we’ve already met.”

Shit. “Brad’s girlfriend?” He would swear he would have remembered meeting her.

More laughter and Dustin realized he really enjoyed the sound of it.

“No, Brad and I are just friends. He wanted some company for the wedding.”

“So he’s waiting on you?” Why did that bother him?

“Oh not a chance. Last I knew he was heading for Denim & Spurs. Knowing Brad, he’s looking for a piece of—” She slapped her hand over her mouth.

He waved it off. “It’s okay, honey, I know Brad and his ways. So he came with you and left to pick up some tail.”

If she was offended, it didn’t show. “That’s why he asked me to accompany him here. I wouldn’t be demanding of his time. I don’t need him to hang around, and I definitely had no desire to see him in action at the bar. I was going to head back when I realized I’d lost my bracelet. Came out to look for it and apparently disturbed you.”

She wasn’t disturbing him. Far from it. “And?”

“And what? I fell off a chair when
someone
scared me.”

There was no anger in her voice, and he thought back to her stating they’d already met. In fact, she still sounded amused. Unlike when she spoke of Charlotte and he’d detected a bit of fury, and he liked to believe it had been on his behalf.

Time to stop overanalyzing what was happening between them. Or not. He sighed. “What’s it look like?”

“Plain pewter chain with three charms. A jumping horse, a horseshoe, and an Eh.”

He frowned. “A what?”

“An Eh. It’s the name of the rune, one associated with the horse.”

A rune. Well, he
did
ask. “I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“Thank you. Heck, I might not have even lost it here, just thought I’d check before leaving. You know, on the off chance I did.” She stood, shoes held by the heels in one hand, and swung his jacket off with the other. “Thanks for the use of your jacket, as well.”

The graze of her fingers along his when they touched sent more of those electric waves through him. He should be upset over the marriage that didn’t happen, and instead he found himself bewitched by this woman who was diametrically opposed to Charlotte in personality and more.

“For what it’s worth, Dustin Kane. I think Charlotte was insane for what she did, and I’m sorry it happened to you.”

Almost as if by an impulse she bent, brushed her lips over his stubble-covered cheek then walked off, leaving him once again, alone. However, this time, without the anger.

* * * *

“What are you doing here?”

Dustin glared at the man he used to consider a friend. One of his best. And he worked for Dustin. Used to.

“I’m sorry, man.”

He narrowed his gaze and struggled not to punch Travis Hill in the bastard’s smug face. “Sorry? You’re sorry? What, that I caught you screwing my fiancée, at the time, on our
wedding day
? Or that you’ve lost your job? What?”

Travis held his hat before him, almost like a shield. Not that it would help him any. “All of it. I…I don’t know what happened.”

Dustin didn’t want to hear it, nor did he give a damn. “Get off my ranch. You are no longer welcome on the Diamond J. Get your shit and get gone.”

“Come on, man. Better you find out now, right? Before you married her and she cheated on you.”

A low rumble rose in his chest. “If you ever had a brain, Travis, you’ll get out of my face. You see me, don’t speak. In fact it’d be a best bet to cross the street to avoid me.”

“Problem, boss?”

Connor Walters, his foreman, best friend, and best man who’d been the one—the only one—of the groomsmen who hadn’t slept with his ex-fiancée, stood there with his hands crossed over his chest and ready to back Dustin up.

“Get this shitwipe out of my sight. Escort him to the barn to collect his things, then toss him off the Diamond J.”

“With pleasure, boss.”

Connor was a big man.
He’d grown up on a ranch, left for a stint in the Army but got out after four and returned to Branchwater with nightmares, PTSD, and a need for something different. Dustin had needed a foreman, and Connor had fit the bill.

“I’ll be inside.”

Connor joined him a bit later. Dustin stood at the window, desperately trying to ignore the drink he’d poured.

“He’s gone.”

“Good riddance.” Dustin rested his fist on the glass. “Thanks for handling that.”

“Shoulda let me kick the bastard’s ass.”

“Don’t need my foreman jailed.”

Dustin put his hand in his jeans pocket, the smooth bracelet he kept there bringing him a small measure of comfort. He’d searched for it that night two weeks ago after the mysterious Finn left and had kept it on him ever since. As to why he did, he wasn’t sure, all he knew was it brought him some sort of comfort. He liked that.

“Give me a list of farriers. Now that Travis is gone I’m going to need a new one.”

“Gonna be hard, boss. Especially right now. It’s getting close to the Expo.”

He knew that. He also knew his animals needed someone soon. A few mounts were already out for throwing shoes.

“I can do it in a pinch but see what you can scrounge up for me.”

“You got it.”

Connor left and Dustin pulled the link chain bracelet out, staring at it. Pewter not gold or silver. Unpretentious and it looked worn and well loved. Rubbing his thumb along it, he stared out the window over his ranch. It was his again.
He'd had all traces and reminders of Charlotte boxed up and sent to her apartment. The one she’d wanted to keep until after they returned from their honeymoon.

He gave a final glance to the bracelet and returned it to his pocket. He had plenty of work waiting for him. Regardless, in the back of his mind he couldn’t quite forget his night pixie.

* * * *

Finn smiled at the roan mare as she slid the stall door shut behind her. “Good girl, Mrs. Jones.” The mare whickered, turning around in her freshly cleaned stall as if she approved.

“She’s missed you, kid.”

“I’ve missed her too. The first horse I learned to ride well on.”

Her father moved up beside her, crutches under his arms. “Always the smartest decision we ever made. You hated the ponies but got the biggest smile on your face when they brought her in the arena.”

“She always took care of me.”

He nodded his head. “That she did. That she did.”

“Something you needed me to do? You could have used the intercom.”

“I’m using crutches, babygirl, I’m not an invalid.”

She flushed but didn’t look away from him. “I know, Daddy. I just worry.”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’m fine. I did come for a reason though. Are you done in here?”

“Yes, sir. Mrs. Jones was the last. I spent some extra time with her—”

“Gave her some sugar cubes,” her father said, interrupting her.

Finn laughed. “You caught me. What can I say? She loves them.”

“Walk with me.”

One final glance to her old mare and she fell into step with her father. They moved slowly up the aisle, the smell of horses, sawdust, and hay in the air. It was just her and her father, as her mother had abandoned them when she turned ten. On her birthday actually. Wasn’t much in the way of gifts in her opinion, but she was a daddy’s girl and her mother was naught but a distant memory now.

“I have a potential job, if you want it.”

She slid the door shut after them, so if any horses got out of their stalls they could only go out into the fenced in area. “A job? Who would hire me around here?” She’d come home for the sole purpose of taking over her father’s clients until he was back on his feet working. She wasn’t out advertising for work, and then again there was the fact she was a female and around here, despite her daddy having taught her everything, she didn’t have the ‘correct’ parts in many eyes to do the job she did.

“He’s waiting up at the house,” her father said, ignoring her question.

“You’re being oddly cryptic.”

“He came for me, I have to be honest. When he saw the crutches, he was going to leave. I told him I had someone else who could do it, and he wants to talk to you.”

Knowing her father, that would be all she’d get. Approaching the house, she couldn’t identify the tan F-350 parked in the drive. Inside she followed her father into his office. A large man stood by the window, and she ran her gaze over him. Definitely a working man, with his worn jeans and tight shirt. Dusty cowboy boots on his feet and a cowboy hat in one hand.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Walters. This is my daughter, Finn.”

Dark green eyes roved over her. She didn’t move, used to men staring at her, assessing her. It wasn’t anything new. She also knew what he saw. Loose fit jeans with a hole in them, dirt on them as well, red shirt, and her own dusty boots.