Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(80)

“You’re the one going out tonight,” Dakota murmurs with a smile.

I keep a close watch on Wyatt. There’s not enough alcohol in Resurrection to get me through this meltdown.

Ford lines up the shots in front of us, shooting two back in quick succession.

Ruby’s worried eyes flick to Charlie.

“You’re really going out with some random guy?” Wyatt asks hoarsely.

Fallon straightens in her chair. “Not that it’s any of your business…but yeah. I am.”

Ford sails a shot toward Fallon. “Let me tell you something, you’re a little fucking bulldog, but you polish up real nice.”

Fallon floats him a grin, takes the shot. Her smile’s feral. “Thanks, Ford. I’d say the same about you, but I’d be lying.”

“Hell, I feel bad for the guy already,” Wyatt rasps.

Fallon shoots Wyatt a fire and brimstone glare.

“Don’t you fucking start,” I warn him.

But he does.

“Should focus on your horses,” Wyatt mutters. “I saw you ridin’ the other day. Your form’s sloppy.”

“My form is none of your business,” Fallon snaps.

Down goes one shot, then another. By now, between Wyatt and Ford, the bottle of Jack is half empty.

“Christ, the least you could do is put a shirt on, wear a pair of fuckin’ shoes,” he grouses. “Goin’ out dressed like some buckle bunny, that ain’t you, Cowgirl.”

Fuck.

Dakota looks me dead in the eye as if to say, Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Even Ruby’s frowning.

“Wy,” Charlie says, settling a big palm on our brother’s shoulder. A signal to cool it.

Hurt creases Fallon’s sharp features, and she blasts out of her chair. “Fuck you, Wyatt.”

“No,” Dakota says, twisting to snag her sister’s hand. “Don’t go.”

I smear my face with my hands. “Fuck.”

“Sorry,” Fallon tells her sister. “I need a twenty-four-hour intermission from this fool.” Eyes blazing, she takes two steps away from the table, then backtracks to wheel around on Wyatt. “And by the way,” she hisses. “I fucking hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” he says hoarsely, but I don’t miss the wince that crosses his face.

After stopping briefly to squeeze Dakota’s shoulder, an action that has Koty’s face softening, Fallon stalks out of the bar.

Ford whistles. “That girl’s a whole lotta outlaw.”

Wyatt just sits there, and Charlie leans in. “You want her to sleep with the guy?” he growls in Wyatt’s ear.

“She’s doing it for him.” Dakota’s soft voice takes me from my watch on my brothers.

I take her hand. “I know.”

Christ. I wish my brother would wake the fuck up. I don’t know why they can’t get it right, but it has me realizing everything I need to do to make things right between Dakota and me. Tell her I love her. If I don’t, I could lose my chance, and the past will start over. She’ll go, move on with her life, and I’ll be the sorry son-of-a-bitch who let her leave.

Not again.

Never again.

True North. Dakota and that baby.

A loud groan has all of us looking over. “Jesus. All y’all lovesick bastards.” Ford drums his hands on the table. “I told y’all once and I’ll tell you again. You gotta keep your head on a goddamn swivel when it comes to a woman.”

“Would you cool down?” Charlie growls, removing the beer from Ford’s grasp. “You’re being a massive asshole.”

Ford slaps Wyatt on the back, rocking him forward. “You gonna cry, cry into your tall boy and keep it the fuck down for the rest of us.”

I’m horrified to see tears welling up in Wyatt’s eyes. He looks miserable, throwing back his second round of doubles.

I clench my jaw, level a finger at Ford. He’s gonna get his teeth kicked in if he doesn’t watch his fucking mouth. We all like giving our little brother shit, but Ford knocking Wyatt down when he’s clearly miserable is taking it too damn far.

“Knock it off. That’s not a request.”

“You sound like a fucking babysitter,” Ford says, before turning his attention back to Wyatt. “Face it, little brother. Sometimes you’re second place.”

“I don’t get fucking second place,” Wyatt shoots back. Then, face crumpling, he erupts from his seat and tears out of the bar.

“Take his keys,” I tell Charlie, who promptly plucks Ruby off his lap and races after Wyatt. Charlie’s the only one who can talk Wyatt off the deep end.

A charged silence falls over the table as I glare at Ford. “Get your shit together. I mean it.”

“Yeah, okay, Dad,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t know we had a complaint department on the ranch.”

Ruby, God bless her, is there to intercept.

“Ford, you want to dance?” She hits him with a full-wattage grin and tugs him clumsily out of the chair. Her concerned eyes flick to me as she leads him away, and I give her a grateful nod.

“I love your brother so much, but why does he have to be this tragically dumb?” Dakota says softly, watching as Ford and Ruby hit the dance floor.