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“Maybe later. I thought you could do with a girls’ night.” I lean against the wall, my Stetson low over my brow. “Save the last dance for me. I didn’t get to show off my Texan moves at the gala.”

Spinning her around the dance floor until we’re flushed in the face would be a dream. We used to go out dancing all the time when she was in college; slowly, work and the demands of life took over. Yes, technically tonight wasn’t a date night, but I’d happily sacrifice my evening with her so she could have fun with her friends.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she murmurs before Harriet pulls her onto the hay-covered dance floor. The band starts up a new song, and the four of them join the other dancers in an orderly line. At the first strings from the steel guitar and fiddle, they’re moving in unison with the crowd.

Parker and Talia are naturals, executing the choreographed dance effortlessly. Harriet and Margot try their best, treading on toes and counting the steps aloud. They laugh and smile without a care in the world. It’s a sight.

Right in the middle is my girl.

She never tries to stand out or be the loudest, yet she shines the brightest, bringing the sunshine with her happiness. This is the girl I remember, and suddenly, I feel like the boy I once was. Maybe that’s the crux of it all: we forgot who we were.

This is how it should be, just a dance floor between us, not states or oceans.

As the days tick by, with no update from Vanessa, I worry the choice will be made for me.

The song finishes, and the band calls for a break before an old country song plays through the speakers. With rosy cheeks, her curls losing their volume to the humidity, Talia gestures that they’re going to the bar. I follow them, sticking to the shadows. It’s a well-known venue, and already there are a few rowdy drunks, and a lot of these folk—without sounding narcissistic—will know of my songs. I don’t want tonight to be about me. Or to be that version of me.

Tapping the toe of my boot along to the song, I chuckle as Parker’s loud drawl booms over the music while she informs the bartender their whiskey selection is subpar.

Then my smile falls when a group of men nudge their friend toward the girls, his sights set on Talia. He hasn’t uttered a word to her, and already my veins fill with white-hot rage. Wearing a cocky smirk and a hat too big for his puny head, he taps Talia on the shoulder. The smile she gives him is polite, and while I don’t hear exactly what she says, rejection slides off the stranger.

He doesn’t get the fucking hint, stepping closer and blocking her in with his arms on the bar. Harriet gives him a look of disgust when he bumps into her. Talia’s politeness disappears, and she shakes her head with more vehemence this time.

And what does the prick do? He takes off his hat and places it on my woman’s head.

My. Fucking. Woman.

I’m halfway across the room in the blink of an eye, storming through the bodies before stopping behind the dollar-store cowboy.

“Hey, buddy.”

He turns at my voice, and it takes all my strength not to clock him in the nose. “You need something?”

With a glance over his shoulder, I expect to find Talia with a look of annoyance on her face. She hates scenes, and I’m sure as heck about to make one. Only, she isn’t annoyed. The little minx is lapping this up, desire and excitement pooling in her eyes. Oh, if she wants a scene, I’ll give her one.

“I need you to back away from my wife.” I snatch the guy’s hat off her head and, without breaking eye contact with him, I frisbee it across the room. “Go fetch.”

“Bravo.” Parker slow claps.

I don’t pay her or the douchebag any notice, because in the next second, Talia is over my shoulder. I’m acting like a brute, but I was raised with Southern manners, and I whip my hat off and cover her backside from onlookers as I make for the exit.

“You caveman!” she hollers, thumping her fists.

“Keep it up, baby, or it won’t be my hat covering your ass, but my handprints.”

A soft gasp bursts from her lips.

She likes the sound of that.

The air is balmy outside. Streaks of pinks and oranges decorate the sky as the sun fades behind the horizon. I make a beeline for the truck, lower the tailgate with one hand before dumping her on the edge. She doesn’t get the chance to sass me before I’m shoving her legs apart and standing between them.

A smirk flirts on her mouth.

“You like seeing me all worked up?” I grip her chin, watching the golden hour sunshine reflect in the amber specks of her eyes. “Need me to remind everyone who you belong to?”

Her tits heave, threatening to spill over the neckline of her dress. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I grab my hat and place it on her head. “You might not be wearing my ring or sleeping in my bed, but you’re still my wife, Talia Brooks.”