Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(77)

Ruby wiggles on her stool, adjusts the hem of her sundress. “Have you thought about names, Dakota?”

“Shockingly, no.”

Fallon slugs down a shot, reaches for another. “One more minute of baby talk. Then I’m cutting you off, Ruby.”

Ruby stirs her drink with her bendy straw. “You have to have a baby shower.”

“Would you believe I’m taking it one day at a time?” I admit.

Fallon barks a laugh. “I don’t believe it.” Her gaze flits to Ruby. “My big sister treats planning as an extreme sport.”

I elbow her. “Excuse you.” Ignoring Fallon’s grumbles about my pointy elbows, I turn back to Ruby. “But she’s right. I used to have plans. Order. I could do it all, and I didn’t need help. I could bake the fuck out of a croissant. And now I just have a baby.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Ruby says, her eyes falling to the bar top.

I smile. “No, it’s not. I love my little Squish.”

“What about Davis?” Fallon interjects. “You have your Marine.”

I prop my chin in my palm. “Maybe. Maybe not. We used to fuck in secret, now we’re just…fucking in public.”

Ruby giggles. “Oh, I think we’ve all done that.”

I stare at the shots. Is it possible to get a contact high just from looking at them? “How many would it take to forget I admitted that?”

“It’s girls’ night.” Fallon’s gaze is shrewd. “We gonna bullshit or be real tonight?”

Ruby and I both look at her like she’s an all-seeing wise witch.

“Well? Truth or bullshit?”

I take a deep breath and debate. She’s right. So I clear my throat and let it out. “I don’t know what Davis and I are doing. I just know it feels right. It feels normal. Is that so bad to want something simple?”

“No,” Ruby says, her eyes as large as saucers.

“I don’t know where I’m going,” I say. “I just know there’s no one else on earth I want to be with.” The words build in my chest. “I’ve built a life before, and it all burned down. But instead of being afraid, I’m up for the challenge. To do it all over again and hope maybe I get this life right.” I inhale. “I am someone new now and that is okay.”

There’s a long silence, and then Ruby speaks up. “Before my surgery, this would make me sick,” Ruby explains, pointing at her pink drink. “But I can do stuff like this now. Charlie worries because he’s Charlie. I can do a lot. But I can’t do everything.” Her eyes flicker to my belly. “And I’m still trying to be okay with that.”

“Goddamn.” Fallon exhales like Ruby’s words have taken a toll on her.

I look up at Beef. “More water.”

Ruby dips her head and hoovers the rest of her pink drink.

Tequila and secrets. Apparently, that’s where girls’ night has gotten us.

Fallon’s three shots in when the stomp of cowboy boots rattle the floorboards.

I glance over at the door.

My knees go weak at the sight of Davis.

Davis and his brothers stand in the mouth of the bar. Broad-shouldered, broody, intimidating cowboys. Half the bar has their heads on a swivel.

“Here comes the parade of assholes,” Fallon drones dryly. Then she scowls. “So much for girls’ night.”

Davis’s dark eyes rake over me. My stomach curls as I drink in the sight of his dark hair and rough stubble. A tight US Marine Corps T-shirt. Biceps. Oh god.

“Uh-oh,” Ruby whispers. “Here they come.” She secretly sounds delighted.

“Oh, hell no,” Fallon complains, hopping off her barstool. “We’re not letting big, dumb men interrupt our night.” A wicked smile appears on her face, and she leans in conspiratorially. “You want to see the quickest way to clear a room of four tough cowboys?”

She waits until Davis and his brothers are within earshot and says, “Tell me about pregnancy, Dakota? Have you lost your mucous plug yet?”

All four pairs of boots instantly beeline in the opposite direction.

Fallon snickers.

Beef passes Ruby another pink drink, and she feels blindly for it, staring at Charlie like a woman long gone.

I smother a smile, watching Davis redirect his brothers like they’re children instead of tough cowboys.

Turning to Fallon, I arch a brow, run a hand over my stomach, feeling the little pepper of feet. “Mucous plug?”

She gives a cavalier shrug. “I did some research.” She lifts her glass in the air and loops her arm around my neck. “Welcome to the Weird Cowgirl Club. It’s you and me now, Koty, no take backs. No secrets.”

“No secrets,” I echo, ducking my head so she can’t see the tears that have sprung to my eyes.

Ruby stirs her drink, a bright pink clashing of liquors while the Montgomery men claim a table in the room’s corner. Davis gives me a nod, tugs his hat down low and settles in like my personal attack dog.

“God,” Fallon groans. “Are they always so—”

“Morally gray cowboys with killer tendencies? Yeah. They are,” Ruby breathes, watching Charlie from above the rim of her drink. She looks enamored. Lovesick. “That’s my cowboy.”