Page 40 of Savage Heart

“Well, damn,” he says. “If I’d known this was the plan tonight, I would’ve come sooner.”

I laugh. “Rough week?”

“It’s been fun, but a lot. Reinforcements showed up at the ranch today, so a couple of us escaped.” He nods toward the bar. “Figured I’d remind myself I’m still a human and not just a dad or chaperone. It’s exhausting being bossy.” He laughs.

Behind him, Vera waggles her eyebrows at me and vanishes before I’m able to stop her.

Dalton steps closer so I can hear him. “Wanna dance?” he asks.

His hand hovers at my waist, waiting.

I nod, and he tugs me out on the dance floor.

We dance. The music is loud enough that we don’t have to talk. He spins me once, clumsy but sweet, and I laugh again.

Then I feel that familiar prickle at the back of my neck. I look around.

Maverick.

He’s wearing a dark T-shirt, sleeves tight around his arms, jaw set like stone. His eyes find me instantly.

He orders a drink and leans his back against the bar, watching me.

My stomach knots, and Dalton notices my distraction.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” I lie. “Just—loud in here.”

Dalton looks over my shoulder, and his eyes widen. “What is Maverick’s deal?” he says in my ear. “I’ve never seen the guy show emotion . . . until this week. He’s staring at you—”

My heart slams into my ribs when I turn to see Maverick slam a shot and walk toward us.

His gaze is hard, jaw tight. The music pounds around us.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Without waiting for an answer, he steps in, moving me out of Dalton’s space like it’s nothing.

“What the hell is your problem?” I snap.

One hand settles at my waist, firm enough to make my breath hitch.

“You’re my problem,” he growls.

My mouth drops.

We’re dancing. I don’t even know why I’m allowing this, but I’m too curious about what the hell he’s doing to walk away. His body shields mine from the crowd, backs me into the rhythm whether I want it or not.

Dalton’s face flashes in my peripheral vision. I can feel his confusion—same here, friend—but Maverick angles us away.

His eyes pierce through me, studying me so intensely, my breathing staggers.

“Why are you everywhere I turn these days?” Maverick mutters. “I can’t even get one damn night off without seeing your ass flirting with Dalton.”

My pulse picks up. “How did who I dance or flirt with suddenly become your business?” I ask. “Oh, that’s right, it didn’t.”

His hand tightens at my hip. “I think you’re looking for ways to torture me—always being the one to drop off Linc . . . coming to the bar I frequent.”