Page 6 of Until You

chapter

two

Oliver

She slips her hand into mine as I lead her from the dance floor back over to the bar. I can’t help but notice how perfectly her hand fits in mine, despite the fact that it’s so small. She doesn’t have long, sharp, manicured nails. Like a lot of women these days. Instead, hers are blunt, short, and painted in a dark color, maybe purple, maybe black. It’s chipped, not perfect, and something about that is endearing as fuck.

No names, she said.

When we get to the bar, I say, “Well, what am I supposed to call you if I can’t know your name?”

She holds her arms out, as if presenting herself to me.

Her position gives me the perfect opportunity to look at her the way I’ve wanted to all night. Because the first time we made eye contact, that wasn’t the first time I’d noticed her. No, I’d seen her the moment she walked into Ace’s.

Ace’s is an institution in Saddle Creek. Part bar, part greasy spoon, part honky-tonk, it’s often where us locals come to unwind. But Ace’s also has a bit of a reputation outside of Saddle Creek. So it’s not unusual for college kids and city folk to make their way here for a burger and wild night out in the country.

Seeing her and her friends come in wasn’t so much a surprise, but it definitely caught my attention. For one, she doesn’t look like most of the women around here.

Her mini skirt flares around her knees, giving me a good look at her shapely calves. Ink swirls up her right leg and disappears under that flirty skirt. It looks like it might be some flowers, but it’s hard to tell. Her white tank dips low into her cleavage, revealing the start of a tattoo that likely slips between her magnificent breasts.

This woman is not my usual type, but she’s had me half hard since she walked into the bar. Something in the sway of her wide hips. I force my gaze off her thick, curvy body and stare at her face.

Her brown hair has multi-colored tips at the end, where it brushes against her shoulders. She’s got ink there too. Her nose is pierced, just a small diamond in one nostril.

“What would you like to call me?” she asks.

I stare into her pale green eyes. They’re so light, they make her look a little ethereal. Then she cocks one brow at me, and I know exactly what to call her.

“Mischief,” I say.

She laughs, tipping her head back, and there’s no restraint in the sound, just pure unadulterated glee. “Mischief,” she says, “I like it. Maybe it even fits a little.”

It’s my turn to arch a brow. “I guess we’ll know if it’s a fitting name by the end of the night. So what’s your poison, Mischief?”

“Jack and Diet Coke with a twist of lime.”

I’ve just ordered her drink when he friends stop by the bar.

“We’re going to head out,” the taller one says. “You coming or staying?”

Mischief looks to me, and I give her a nod.

“Staying,” she says. “Cowboy and I have some trouble to get into.”

I hand her her drink. “Here you go, Mischief.”

Her friend chuckles. “Mischief? she asks. “Oh, he’s got your number, babe,”

The two friends leave their curvy, inked, pierced bombshell right there at my side. And it’s at that point my cousin Leo returns from talking to someone across the room, looks like it might be Garrett Whitmore and Jared Sawyer and their wives.

“Looks like you’ve got things covered tonight,” he says with a quick glance at my girl. “Call me tomorrow.”

“Cousin?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Y’all don’t really look very much alike,” she says, then takes a sip of her drink.