Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy 1)

“What have you been up to?” Mick opened a couple of beers, placing them down in front of them.

As Sutton described her life in California, Tate noticed the Hayeses studying her from across the bar. He caught their eyes, giving them a silent warning.

“Been a while since we’ve had a good fight,” Greer said, seeing where he was staring.

“We’re not going to have one tonight. Sutton’s here.”

“Good luck with that,” Greer said, getting off his stool. “Let’s go dance.” He took Diane’s hand, leading her toward the dance floor.

Tate thought it wasn’t a bad idea. When Mick moved away to wait on his customers, he turned to Sutton.

“Feel like dancing?”

“What do you think?” She jumped down from her stool, eagerly taking his hand. The woman used to love to dance when they had dated in high school. Mick was nice enough to let them sneak in the bar and dance for a few hours before it became crowded. He had never served them liquor, only gave them a place to hang out on a Saturday night.

Sutton slid her arms around his neck, pressing against him as the music turned slow. His hand went to her ass, securing her against him, and her head fell to his shoulder. Tate thought it was the most perfect moment he had experienced in his life. He didn’t want it to end, even when the music switched to a different song with a faster beat. Still, they didn’t move, staying pressed against each other, neither wanting the moment to end.

Tate stiffened with her in his arms when he felt a hand tap him on his shoulder.

“I’m cutting in. Pretty girl like her needs to dance with someone who knows how.”

Tate didn’t budge. “Go find your own woman to dance with. This one’s taken.”

“What does she have to say about that? Maybe she wants to dance with me.”

His jaw clenched.

Sutton raised her head. “He’s right; I’m taken.”

Tate’s chest swelled with pride.

Asher’s eyes went to Sutton’s hand that rested on his arm. “Sorry, Tate. I didn’t realize you had gotten married.”

Instantly, he understood that Asher had seen the wedding band on her hand.

“We’re not married.”

“Didn’t know the Porters fucked around with married women.”

He felt Sutton tense in his arms, expecting him to punch Asher.

“She’s a widow.”

The smirk on Asher’s face disappeared. “Sorry.”

Sutton nodded, and Asher moved off onto the crowded dance floor.

“I’m shocked that you didn’t hit him.”

“Nah, I’m not letting that asshole get to me tonight. I’m having too good a time.”

She relaxed back against him. “Me, too.” He barely heard her whisper over the loud music.

When the other couples on the floor kept bumping into them, Tate led her back to the bar. He suspected Greer was still dancing with Diane, but he couldn’t see him among the crowd.

Holt was dancing with Reva, a woman Tate had occasionally fucked on and off for the last couple of years. He hadn’t been with her in the last eight months since she had started hinting at him that she wanted a ring. They came off the dance floor and sat down next to them at the bar.

Tate finished his beer. “Ready?”

Sutton nodded.

“You’re not leaving, are you, Tate? I thought we could dance.”

“No, thanks, Reva.” He took a twenty out of his wallet, laying it down on the bar to pay his tab.

“Come on … Don’t leave. Holt can keep her company until you get back.”

“Don’t want another of Tate’s leftovers,” Holt spoke as Tate gave Sutton his hand to help her down. Tate’s hand dropped.

Jerking around to face Holt, he made himself give the man a chance. “I don’t give a fuck if you insult Reva—she’s not my woman—but keep your mouth off Sutton.”

“Don’t want my mouth on her. The way you two were acting on the dance floor, my dick would rot off if I fucked her. Heard Cheryl’s picked up the clap and been giving it out. Since you were with her a couple of months back, maybe Sutton should be getting herself checked out.”

Fury exploded in Tate’s head. The Porter temper was notorious throughout Treepoint. It was actually hardest to rile in Tate. Most of the fights he found himself involved in were because he enjoyed fighting.

With blinding fury, his fist swung out, landing a punch on Holt’s stomach. He fell back, knocking over barstools as the customers hastily moved out of the way.

“You son of a bitch!”

Tate didn’t give Holt time to recover before swinging his fist again, but it was caught midair by Asher who shoved him against the bar.

“Don’t fucking touch my brother!” Asher reached for the beer bottle he had finished, about to bash it against his skull, but Sutton grabbed his arm.

“Leave him alone.”

“Stay out of this, Sutton,” Tate ordered. He didn’t think the brothers would stoop low enough to touch her, but he wasn’t willing to take the chance.