I’m on a mission to stick it to Wyatt, and my pushy best friends. I ignore Battle’s opposing body language and take a step closer to him.
“Are you the Battle McCoy?” As the words leave my mouth, I hear how ridiculous they sound. My inexperience has caught up with me.
“The one and only,” JT drawls.
Battle not answering, or bothering to look at me, makes me feel ugly and unwanted. If the rumors are true, Battle’s with a different girl every night. His disinterest challenges me. The air hums between us as I take another step closer to him, or at least it does for me.
“I’m Faye.” I smile nervously, sticking my hand out.
He doesn’t shake my hand and I drop it, feeling thoroughly shunned. With a slight lift of his chin, he finally looks at me. Not in the eyes, but at my chest. I feel uncomfortable. My C-cups usually draw compliments, but now they’re inadequate. His blue eyes lack any emotion as he stares right through me. He remains quiet, sending my nerves in a tailspin.
I shamelessly bend forward slightly, hoping to use my cleavage to spark a trace of interest in Battle. Nothing. Clearly I suck at seducing men, but knowing how much Marty will gloat if I lose the bet, I try a braver approach. “I have a bottle and a car out front. You wanna take a drive?”
My voice sounds all wrong, more beggar than temptress. If he makes me lose a hundred bucks, I’m going to be irate. I only have to get him to leave the bar with me. Marty didn’t say I had to leave the parking lot. I stand there on display like the village idiot, waiting for a response.
Battle chews on a toothpick without answering or meeting my gaze. I watch the tiny wooden stick move from tooth to tooth between his full lips. My mind drifts to thoughts of what our lips would feel like pressed together.
I shake my head, turning away from the bar. As I breathe in, preparing to take the slow walk of shame back to our table, and pay up with Marty, I hear JT.
“Hey, beautiful.” JT Garrett calling me beautiful brightens my dismal spirit. His praise gives me a much needed confidence boost. “Why don’t you bring your girlfriends over for a drink?”
Battle coughs as he glares heatedly at JT. His objection sends my bleak moment of confidence back to the gloomy abyss. I feel like that girl in high school from most movies, the one who tries to talk to the popular boy, only to have him laugh in her face.
Mr. One-man Army clearly doesn’t want to welcome me and my friends to his group of buddies. Only I’m not about to turn down an offer to hang out with JT and Cooper. Marty and Ginger would never speak to me again.
“Um…okay.”
I lift my head, meeting Battle eye to eye as he withdraws the toothpick from his mouth. My skin catches fire as he works his jaw deliberately back and forth, sawing his bottom lip with his teeth. His stoic gaze renders me speechless. My hope shrivels to nothing as I absorb how incredibly arrogant this man is. He grimaces before spinning back to the bar on his stool.
It takes every ounce of control I have not to tell him what an ass he is. JT wanting us around makes me smile, and I skip back to the table.
“Oh, my God! What did he say?” Ginger asks.
“Not a single word, but JT wants us to come over for a drink.”
“You owe me a hundred bucks,” Marty sings in my ear as we make our way to the bar. I nudge her, telling her the night is young. I might have played things cool with her, but I have as much of a chance of getting Battle to leave with me as I do getting Wyatt to propose.
JT says hello, handing each of us a pint of beer. I don’t drink beer, but I down a few swallows for courage. It’s bitter, and I make a disgusted face. I think Battle smiles, but I refuse to turn my head as my confidence takes refuge from any further blows.
“I’m JT. This fella here, is Cooper. Battle you obviously know, and these other two clowns are Scooter and Austin.”
Other than Battle, the guys are typical rough ridin’ cowboys, in plaid shirts, tight Wrangler jeans, Stetson hats, and cowboy boots.
Marty, Ginger, and I say hello. Ginger greets JT more eagerly than the rest of the guys. As she steps close to him, her smile stretches the width of her face, and she sends me and Marty an, ‘I call dibs’ look.
“So, did y’all see us ride tonight?” JT asks, tipping his tan suede hat.
“Or in JT’s case, fall,” Cooper snorts.
“I made it longer than Scoot,” JT yells. “He was off faster than a dress on prom night. Besides, that fucker's balls were cinched too tight. Damn bull tried to kill me.”
“Battle didn’t have any problem stayin’ on him,” Cooper razzes.
“Because McCoy’s crazier than a wild bull with his nuts cinched too tight.”
“I didn’t think they still did that,” I say, and Marty snickers. I obviously said something stupid.
“Did what?” JT asks.