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Walk The Line (The Dawson Brothers Book 6)
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A beautiful woman makes everything better.
Living on a big ranch with a large family means working during the day and taking on side projects on the weekend.
And it’s my turn to help with the latest one. The house needs updating, and my sister wants an interior designer to help out.
I begrudgingly agree to help until the woman shows up.
Crazily enough, it’s the pretty girl I kissed on the dance floor a few nights before.
The one that slapped me in the face and walked off.
I’ve always loved a good challenge.
Everything about her turns me on. But she’s not interested in bad cowboy types.
And my brothers and I are just that. At least, they are.
A nasty situation turns the pretty girl against me, and there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to get her back.
Time to dust off these boots and walk this line.
This woman is well worth the effort
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“I just don’t see the point anymore, other than to have a cold beer and a dance,” I said, as I drove the truck toward the dance hall. Wyatt and Abi were following behind us in Wyatt’s truck, typical of a Saturday night for the Dawson family.
“What do you mean?” Dylan asked, as he sat in the back seat of my double cab pickup truck.
“I mean it’s the same girls all the time. Half of them we’ve already dated, and the other half hate our guts,” I said.
“Well, it’s just about a cold beer and hanging with my brothers for me, I have a woman,” Tanner said, sitting in the passenger seat.
“Yeah, yeah, you ain’t gotta be all arrogant about it,” I said, feeling a little jealous that he had a woman, and a good one at that.
“So what’s wrong with some beers and dancing? We ain’t lookin’ for wives, just some fun. Why are you all serious about this all of a sudden?” Dylan asked.
“I’m not serious about lookin’ for a wife. I’m just saying we should try going into the city or something next time. And meet some new women,” I said, as I pulled the truck into the gravel parking lot of the dance hall.
“The city? Nah, no way. Dawson boys belong in Safety, Texas,” Tanner said.
I put the truck in park as Wyatt’s truck pulled alongside us. The parking lot was already full. Cowboys and cowgirls were all over the lot, even pouring out the doors of the dance hall, and the honky-tonk music was loud.
“Woo-hee! Look at that! It’s gonna be a good night. I can feel it,” Dylan said, getting all anxious in the back seat, the way a dog does when you pull up to the park. I wished I was that excited, but these weekends at the dance hall were turning into the same ol’—same ol’ for me. It was boring and I was craving something new.
“Alright boys, keep it in your pants,” Tanner said, as we got out of the truck. “This means you, Dylan.”
“It’s really happening around here tonight,” Abi said, climbing out of Wyatt’s truck. We all gathered behind our trucks, waiting until everyone was ready.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be a good honky-tonk band tonight. All the way from Kerrville or something,” Wyatt added.
“Oh, there are my girls. I’ll see y’all later,” Abi said, waving at a group of her friends. “And don’t get into trouble,” she added sternly, before walking away.
“Oh, we never do,” Dylan said. Abi rolled her eyes at his obvious lie, then quickly ran across the lot to a group of girls.
“Alright, who’s buying the first round?” Dylan asked, as we started walking toward the door.
“Not I!” We all spoke at the same time, laughing hysterically.
“Wyatt was dragging there,” I said, punching him in the arm.
“Alright, alright. I got first round then. Oldest to youngest, so Connor you’re buying round number two,” he said.
“Fine then,” I said, suddenly getting energized as we headed to the door. Maybe this night would be fun even if it was the same old routine. This visiting band had everyone really excited, and you could feel it in the energy of the crowd.
We stood in the line at the door. It was moving—slowly—but it was moving. Three guys pushed out of the door from inside, already drunk. I knew who they were. One stumbled into Dylan.
“Whoa there.” Dylan grinned.
“What the hell, Dawson! Watch where you’re going!” Willie said.
“I was just standing here, Willie,” Dylan said, amused.
“Oh, that’s it, huh. It’s never your fault. All you Dawson brothers think you’re untouchable,” Willie said, getting in Dylan’s face.
“What’d you say about my family?” Dylan’s playful grin fell from his face.
“No, Dylan,” I said, putting my hand on his chest and holding him back while Wyatt and Tanner stepped in front of him.
“Now Willie, you’re just drunk, go walk it off. Garrett, Pete—get him on out of here, come on,” Wyatt said, speaking to Willie’s friends.
“Come on Willie, you are drunk,” Garrett said, pushing Willie toward Pete and the parking lot. Together, they walked off out of sight.
“Dylan, you can’t go starting shit with every drunk that bumps into you. Geez,” Tanner said.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I just got heated for a second. I’m good, I’m good,” Dylan said, shaking it off. But I couldn’t blame him. Dylan was twenty-three, and I was a hot head when I was his age. With age came a cooler head, it seemed.
Finally, we stepped to the bar.
“Four Lonestar’s, Bob!” Wyatt shouted at the bartender. Four longneck bottles of beer were placed in front of us. They were nice and cold, perfect for starting the night. We turned our backs to the bar, leaning against it.
In front of us was a wide aisle, where people were walking back and forth. Beyond that were two rows of picnic style tables, and still further was the oval shaped dance floor, currently full of couples doing the two-step. The stage was at the back of the dance floor where the band was playing. I got my foot tappin’ and I was feeling good and excited.