Ethan
We pulled up to the Rusty Spur, and I immediately realized we were in for a challenge. The parking lot was packed, cars jammed into every available space, and a few even spilled out onto the gravel shoulder of the road. It looked like half the town had decided to come out tonight, and finding a spot was going to be a task.
"Looks like everyone had the same idea," I muttered, glancing over at Samantha. She was sitting in the passenger seat, looking effortlessly stunning. Her hair was loose and wavy, cascading down her shoulders in a way that seemed almost unfair. I could already feel the eyes that would be on her once we got inside.
"Don't worry," she replied with a small smile. "We'll find something."
We circled the lot twice before I finally spotted a car backing out of a space near the entrance. I quickly pulled in, thankful for the stroke of luck. Still, places like Silver Ridge were funny in that we were literally outside a country bar, something you might see in the heart of rural Kansas, but the parking lot was filled with $250,000 Lamborghinis and Ferraris. The SUVs we saw were just as funny—G-Wagons and completely decked-out Escalades. I guess you can take the money out of the community, but you can't take the community out of the money.
Wait, that didn't make any sense.
"Earth to Ethan!"
I shifted and saw Samantha giving me a wry expression. "I lost you there for a moment, buddy."
"Yeah, sorry about that."
I turned off the engine and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the odd feeling in my gut. This wasn't my usual scene, and I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of being surrounded by so many people. But Samantha was excited, and I didn't want to dampen her spirits.
As we walked toward the entrance, I noticed the way heads turned—both male and female—as we passed. The men's gazes lingered on Samantha, admiration and curiosity clear in their eyes. The women weren't much different, though their looks were a mix of intrigue and a hint of jealousy. I wasn't sure if it was because of how she looked or if they realized how famous she was. Any thoughts of being the center of attention died as she walked past them.
It was hard to blame them for that.
We reached the door, where a couple of bouncers were stationed. One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a friendly smile, nodded at us. "Evening," he greeted, his eyes flicking to Samantha before settling on me. "Busy night. Are you folks looking for someone?"
"Luca. Pretty sure he said we were on the list," I replied, keeping my tone casual. I pointed at Samantha. 'Well, I am sure she is on the list. Samantha Harrington."
"Right on," he said, stepping aside to let us through. "Enjoy yourselves."
I leaned over to Samantha. "He didn't even look at the list."
Samantha chuckled. "When people look like you, Ethan, they don't care if you're on the list."
Me? Is she serious? Look at you, Sam. It has to be about you.
Inside, the Rusty Spur was a sea of movement and sound. The wooden floor creaked under the weight of boots and heels, and the twang of country music filled the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and conversation. The bar ran along one side of the room, busy with people ordering drinks, while the dance floor was alive with couples moving in sync to the rhythm of the music.
I glanced at Samantha, who seemed to be taking it all in with a smile. "This place is packed," I commented, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the music.
"It's great, isn't it?" she replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Perfect way to end the day."
We made our way further inside, weaving through the crowd. That's when I spotted Luca waving us over from a large booth in the corner. He was surrounded by a group of people—both men and women—who all looked to be in their mid-to-late twenties. The women were dressed to impress, in outfits that ranged from tight jeans and boots to short skirts and crop tops. The guys were more laid-back but still put-together, with plaid shirts, denim, and cowboy hats.
Luca stood up as we approached, a broad grin on his face. "Samantha! You made it!" he called out, waving us over. "Come on, we've got a spot for you."
As we reached the booth, the group greeted us with friendly smiles and nods. Luca made quick introductions, but I was already starting to forget names. The women, in particular, seemed more interested in Samantha than in anything else. I wasn't surprised—they probably recognized her from her modeling days or maybe from social media.
"Samantha Harrington," one of the women—a tall blonde with striking blue eyes—said with a touch of awe in her voice. "It's so great to meet you. I've followed your career for years. Could we… maybe get an autograph?"
Samantha laughed softly, clearly used to this kind of attention. "Of course," she said warmly, taking the pen and napkin that the woman offered. She quickly signed her name with a flourish and handed it back with a smile.
The other women in the group immediately chimed in, asking for their own autographs. Samantha obliged them all, and I could tell she was enjoying herself. I stood back, feeling a bit out of place but also admiring the ease with which she handled the attention.
"You're quite the celebrity," I murmured to her when she finally finished signing.
She shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "It's a façade, I assure you. I wanted to make sure you understood how desirable I was."
Like I needed other people to understand that. Geez, woman, look in the freaking mirror. "Well, mission accomplished."
She grinned. "Fame is fickle. But it's nice when people are so friendly."
Before I could respond, the music shifted to a more upbeat tune, and the dance floor erupted with energy. Samantha nudged me with her elbow. "Come on, Ethan," she said with a grin. "You've got to learn the line dance. It's easy—just follow my lead."
I hesitated, feeling a bit out of my depth.
Her encouragement was hard to resist, and before I knew it, Samantha was pulling me onto the dance floor. The crowd parted slightly to make room, and I felt a dozen pairs of eyes on me as I tried to follow her lead.
The steps were simple enough—side to side, back and forth, kick chain, and a butt wiggle—that part was easy, but keeping up with the rhythm was a challenge. Luca moved effortlessly, grinning as he called out the steps. I did my best to keep up, but I knew I probably looked like a fish out of water.
A dead fish out of water.
Some of the other woman from the group joined us on the dance floor, their movements ranging from fluid and graceful to down right silly. It was clear they were here for a good time. Samantha moved like a dancer, all tip toes. She caught my eye and winked, clearly enjoying herself. I smiled back, even as I stumbled over the steps.
In my defense, I was very distracted by Samantha's ass. Damn. Her assets should be straight-up illegal.
"Not bad, Ethan!" she called out over the music. "You're getting the hang of it!"
I laughed, feeling a little more confident as I continued to move with the group. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared—in fact, I was starting to enjoy myself. The music, the energy, and the company all combined to create a feeling of lighthearted fun that I hadn't experienced in a long time.
Samantha moved into my personal space, her cheeks flushed from the dancing. "You did great, Ethan," she said, her voice full of genuine praise. "I knew you'd get into it."
I smiled at her, feeling a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the exertion. "Thanks, Samantha. I'm glad we came."
After the line dance, Samantha and I made our way to the bar to grab a drink. The energy in the Rusty Spur was infectious, and I found myself relaxing more than I had in a long time. Samantha had that effect—her easygoing nature made everything feel lighter, simpler.
We approached the bar, and she glanced over at me with a sly smile. "You know, for a guy your size, you move pretty well on your feet," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
I chuckled, feeling a little self-conscious. "Well, I'm no dancer, but I can manage not to step on anyone's toes."
She laughed, and the sound was warm and genuine. "You did better than most. I'd say you're a natural."
I didn't know about natural but that was a story for another day.
We reached the bar, and the bartender came over, a friendly smile on his face. "What can I get for you folks?"
I glanced at Samantha. "Beer for me. What about you? Maybe a nice glass of white wine?"
She rolled her eyes and playfully punched my arm. "Uh, we are going country tonight. A beer sounds perfect, thank you very much. Something with fruity undertones if they've got it."
I grinned, ordering two beers from the bartender. As we waited for our drinks, the music shifted again, and a couple of pairs began swing dancing nearby. They moved with a lively rhythm, spinning and twirling each other with effortless grace. Samantha watched them with interest, her head tilted slightly to the side.
After a moment, she turned back to me, her expression shifting to something more serious. "Ethan, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? And feel free to tell me if I'm being too nosy."
I raised an eyebrow, curious and maybe a little wary. "Sure, shoot. What do you want to know?"
Just then, the beer arrived. The waitress gave me a wink. I took a swig of my Coors. She took a sip of her beer, as if gathering her thoughts, before speaking. "Well, first of all, what do you do for a living? I know you're good with your hands and you're one hell of a cook. But what's your actual job?"
I smiled at the question, relieved it was something easy to answer. "I'm actually sort of in between jobs at the moment. I've been a contractor and carpenter. Back in the day, I ran my own construction business with my brother. We shut it down some time ago. So now I do odd jobs and take care of the mobile park my dad left me. I don't have crazy debt, so I don't need much."
Her eyes lit up with interest. "It shut down. I'm sorry to hear that. Can I ask why?"
There it was. Do I answer the question honestly or dodge? I sighed. I've never been a very good liar. Oddly enough, I found myself staring at Samantha lips. They were so plumb and moist. Great lips. I remember I kissed. Then I tried not to remember our kiss. I refocused on our conversation.
"I ran the company with my brother. He passed away, and without him, everything went to shit."
Samantha's beautiful face transformed. "I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?"
I am not sure why I did it. And it was too late before I realized what I was doing. I reach up and I ran my thumb across the corner of Samantha mouth, surprising her and myself with the contact. "Not tonight. Maybe another time when I don't have to yell."
She leaned her face into my hand. "I will hold you to that."
It was a moment. A warm one. Then, we both seemed to realize what we were doing and straightened up. I dropped my hand from her face, and Samantha turned from me, wiping her eyes.
Samantha righted herself and continued forward in her questioning. "So you're a landowner, a super dad, and a great cook. I'm starting to wonder why you're still single."
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. "The girls mostly. There are other reasons, but that is probably another one of those conversations NOT in a noisy bar."
She tilted her head, her expression softening. "Okay, fair enough, but no girlfriend? Or is there someone I should know about?"
I shook my head, feeling a little self-conscious. "No, no girlfriend. It's just been me and the girls for a while now."
She seemed to consider that for a moment before asking her next question. "What about your ex-wife? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I'm curious… what happened between you two?"
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting it to be one of the girls, but instead, I saw a text from Sarah.
Sarah: *Why are you exposing my girls to a bunch of hussies? You know I don't want them around those kinds of people. What the hell do you think you're doing?*
My jaw clenched as I read the message. Typical Sarah, always quick to criticize and control. I hadn't even told her we were in Silver Ridge—how had she found out? And why did she always have to turn everything into a fight?
Samantha must have noticed the change in my expression because she touched my arm gently. "Ethan? Is everything okay?"
I slipped the phone back into my pocket, trying to push the anger down. I didn't want to ruin the night by thinking about Sarah and her drama. "It's nothing," I said, forcing a smile. "Just… something I'll have to deal with later."
Her eyes searched mine, clearly sensing that something was off, but she didn't press. Instead, she offered me a reassuring smile. "Ex-wife?"
Now that was surprising. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
She shrugged. "I've seen similar looks in that mirror when I think about my ex."
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.
She pushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Do you?"
We watched each other.
"Not really," I said.
"Then let's not right now. But if you need to talk about it, I'm here."
I nodded, appreciating the gesture. I took a long drink, letting the cool liquid soothe my nerves. Samantha did the same, and for a moment, we stood in comfortable silence, just enjoying the atmosphere.
But the text from Sarah lingered in the back of my mind, like a dark cloud threatening to ruin an otherwise perfect evening. I knew she wouldn't let this go—she never did. There would be more messages, more accusations, and more attempts to undermine my relationship with the girls. It was exhausting, and I was tired of it.
Samantha must have sensed my frustration because she leaned in a little closer, her shoulder brushing against mine. "Do you want to get out of here?" she asked softly. "We could go somewhere quieter if you'd prefer."
I shook my head, not wanting to leave just yet. Despite the text, I was actually enjoying myself. "No, I'm good. Let's just keep things light tonight."
She smiled, clearly relieved. "Okay, then. But you still owe me those answers."
I gave her a little bow of my head. "As you wish, but another time. I promise."