Only With Me (Sugarland Creek #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Waylon

PRESENT DAY

“ G oddamn!” Wilder whistles. “It’s a full house tonight.”

The blaring country music invades my ears as soon as we walk into the Twisted Bull. It’s the most popular bar in town with a decent-sized dance floor that brings in plenty of women looking to shake their asses and drink the night away. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is—like now in mid-November when it’s freeze-your-nuts-off weather—the place is always packed on the weekends.

Wilder’s the only reason I’m here on a Saturday night instead of enjoying a quiet evening home alone.

Sure, I like to drink, but I know when to stop. Wilder doesn’t. Making sure he gets home is my main priority, but so is making sure he doesn’t make an ass of himself.

The latter isn’t always possible.

“Hey, darlin’.”

Wilder’s drawl grabs my attention as we make it to the bar.

“I gotta ask ya somethin’,” he continues speaking to someone.

Looking around him, I notice he’s talking to some chick I’ve never seen before. Considering how small our town is and that everyone knows everyone, she must be visiting or just moved here.

“Hey,” she replies. “What’s your question, cowboy?”

Wilder lifts his cowboy hat, threads his fingers through his messy hair, and then places the hat back on his head. “Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shake my head at his pathetic pick-up line.

“Does that actually work?” the girl asks. “I heard that one five years ago.”

I chuckle at her not immediately dropping to her knees for him like most chicks do. Although Wilder and I look identical, it’s his outgoing personality that differentiates us the most. I’d rather be in a small crowd around a handful of people I know versus going out with loud music and obnoxious drunks.

“I got you talkin’ to me, didn’t I?” he muses, and I know he just flashed her his infamous wink. “I’m Wilder. Lemme buy your next drink.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning as if being offered a free drink is a hardship.

I grab the bartender’s attention, order my beer, and then Wilder orders for him and…

Nope, he hasn’t even asked her yet.

Classic Wilder.

He starts a tab and then I follow them to a table. As soon as she turns toward him, he buries his face in her neck, murmuring something. She blushes and giggles.

I love being the awkward third wheel.

“This is my twin, Waylon,” he finally introduces us.

This is my cue to ask for her name.

“Hey, nice to meet you…”

“Bethany,” she supplies. “Nice to meet y’all too.”

“You from ’round here?” Wilder asks.

“Nashville. I’m here visitin’ a few friends.” She waves her hand in the air. “They’re ’round here somewhere.”

“Cool. Should we dance?” Wilder holds out his hand.

“Yeah, sure!” Her eyes beam, and as usual, I stay and watch their drinks.

We’re supposed to meet the rest of our siblings here, too. But Wilder wanted to come early. Tripp used to be our DD, but now he’s married with two kids, so he only hangs out for a couple hours since Magnolia stays home with them.

After they dance through three songs, they return to retrieve their drinks.

“You don’t dance?” Bethany asks me.

I lift one shoulder. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“I’ll get some of my friends over and?—”

“Oh, that ain’t necessary. I’m waitin’ on my other brothers to show up.”

She ignores my words and waves them over.

As soon as I see one of the girls in the group, I bring my glass to my lips, shielding my amused expression as I gulp down my beer.

This is going to be entertaining.

“I found me a cowboy! His twin needs a dance partner!” Bethany shouts over the music.

The blonde turns and her wide smile shifts into a scowl. “You piece of shit. You’re hittin’ on my friend after I was in your bed last weekend?”

“Whoa, what?” Wilder jerks back, holding up a hand. Whether to feign innocence or to avoid getting slapped, I’m not sure.

“You know him?” Bethany asks Jen—my brother’s on-again, off-again fling . They’ll go from hooking up every weekend to ghosting each other for months until one of them reaches out again and repeats the whole annoying process.

They’re exhausting.

“I didn’t know she was your friend,” Wilder explains.

“Oh, bite me,” Jen snarls.

Wilder waggles his brows. “In the same spot you like?”

Jesus Christ.

I chuckle, shaking my head at how he constantly finds himself in these messes.

“You wish. Never again. We’re done,” Jen snaps, grabbing Bethany’s hand, and then storms off into the crowd.

“She always says that,” Wilder muses, then straightens his spine and stands taller as he shouts louder, “You’ll be back! You always are!”

“You’re a real piece of work, ya know that?”

He shrugs. “We’ve never been monogamous.”

“Did she know that?”

“Yes! She was in for a good time, not a long time,” he reassures me.

I snort under my breath. “Wow…it’s a wonder why you’ve never had anything serious.”

“Oh, and you have within the last decade?” he taunts, then takes a swig of his beer.

“I’ve had one,” I remind him.

“Shit, that’s right,” he muses. “Delilah Fanning from what…nine years ago?”

“Seven,” I correct.

We were together for two years, but even so, in that timeframe, we barely had a chance to make it work. Between her dad’s work accident and her sister’s incident, she had too much going on to make time for us. I understood that family needed to come first, but when she suggested taking a break instead of letting me be there for her, I assumed it was over for good. I hooked up with someone a couple weeks later and she claimed I’d cheated on her.

Never gave me a second chance even when I begged for one.

I was only twenty-five at the time and mostly immature.

But she broke my heart when she told me we shouldn’t be together “right now” because I’d trusted her and confided in a way I never have before with previous girlfriends. She knew more about what I’d been through with Wilder than anyone else.

The next time I open up to someone will be when I’m on the autopsy table.

“My bad,” he deadpans. “So I guess that makes you the expert.”

Rolling my eyes at his dick comment, I scan the area for anyone I might recognize. Most are younger than me, kids who weren’t even in high school yet by the time I graduated. To be fair, at thirty-two, I’m too old to be here. It’s why I rarely meet anyone because most of these women are in their early twenties.

But me not having a relationship or never getting serious with someone has nothing to do with having commitment issues like him. But I’ve never told him the real reason, and I hope he never finds out.

“Hey, Hollis!”

I turn to my last name being called and grin when I find one of my close friends I’ve known since elementary school.

“Jake, hey. How’s it goin’?”

He walks up with a beer in his hand and nudges my shoulder.

“Shit, I’m good. You?” His goofy smirk tells me he’s been drinking for a while.

“Same.”

Shortly after, my brothers arrive and we continue hanging out. We move around from the dance floor to the back room and play a round of pool and then a game of darts. I stick to water after my two beers, but Wilder’s had at least six and a few shots.

Jake’s texting on his phone every few minutes, but he doesn’t have a girlfriend that I’m aware of, so I give him shit about how he must be secretly dating someone.

“Nah, I’m flyin’ solo right now. I’m mentoring this club and we started this group chat, so it goes off all day long with random convos.”

“What kinda club?” I ask, taking a seat at the nearest table. We just finished the last round of darts, where I smoked him.

“It’s gonna sound lame, but I swear it’s not. It’s a horse club.”

My brow lifts. “A horse club?”

“Yeah, for people who like horses.”

I snort. “Yeah, I figured that. But what’s it all about?”

“Most of ’em are in the rodeo industry—barrel racers, bronc riders, various types of show horse competitors. Some are trainers or just experienced riders. We just shit talk about random stuff, but it started as a means of support. Anyone who wanted help with a specific skill, share knowledge and experiences…stuff like that.”

“That’s cool,” I say.

Jake Murphy’s family owns a horse ranch, and even after he moved into an apartment in town, he continues to work there as his full-time job. He’s been around horses as long as I have—since birth.

“I’ll add you to it! You know tons about horses and could probably answer questions or offer suggestions. Most are younger than us, so they’ll appreciate the extra expertise.”

“No, that’s?—”

He pulls out his phone before I can finish and adds my number to the text thread.

“There, you’re in. I’ll do introductions tomorrow when I’m sober.” He chuckles. “But everyone’s nice.”

“Are they all local?”

“Most of ’em, but there’s some an hour or two away.”

I don’t think much about it while I search for Wilder. After Jen stormed off with Bethany, he found a few other girls to occupy him. They’ve been dancing and drinking for hours.

“Oh shit. Your brother’s gettin’ up on the bull.” Jake points to the other side of the bar. “He ain’t lastin’ eight seconds on that thing.”

I sigh at him waving his cowboy hat in the air. “Fuckin’ hell. I swear he thinks he has nine lives or some shit.”

Landen and Tripp left an hour ago, leaving me to deal with his drunk ass.

Jake follows as I walk closer and by the time I get to Wilder, he’s face down on the mat.

All the girls he was hanging out with scream his name. Meanwhile, I walk into the makeshift arena and try to pull him up by the back of his shirt.

“Can you stand?” I ask. “Or do I need to carry your ass outta here?”

“Nah, I’m t-totally fine,” he stutters, crawling until he gets to his feet. “Did I make it?”

“Almost.” I snort, glancing at the clock showing five seconds on it.

“Dammit. Next time.” He smirks.

The next rider is already pushing through to take his turn, so I drag Wilder out of the way.

“Time to pay the tab and call it a night,” I tell him, moving toward the bar.

“What? But they’re open for another hour.”

Jake wraps his arm around Wilder’s waist, helping me keep him up. “’Sup, man?”

“Who’re you?”

I shake my head. He’s known Jake as long as I have.

“Teddy,” Jake responds instead of his actual name, and I suppress a laugh. It’s an ongoing joke that every time Wilder’s too drunk to remember him, he gives him a different fake name each time.

“Teddy? Okay, cool. Wanna take a shot before we go?”

God, he’s relentless.

“Maybe next time, okay? I gotta go home soon,” Jake responds.

I glance at him, silently thanking him for his help.

Once the bartender tells me how much is on the tab, I hold out my hand for Wilder’s card. Lord knows how many chicks he bought for tonight, and I’m not paying his three-hundred-and-forty-dollar bill.

I add a hefty tip on his behalf, sign it, and thank her again—mostly for putting up with his shenanigans. He relentlessly flirts with her even though she turns him down each time he tries asking her out.

“Sure you don’t wanna meet at my house after your shift?” He leans against the bar, wagging his brows at her.

“Hmm…as temptin’ as that sounds, truly …not sure my girlfriend would appreciate that.”

“Why not? She can join. The more the merrier…” He flashes his tongue piercing. “I’ve got a wicked tongue trick.”

“Alright…” I drawl, cuffing the back of his shirt again. “Time to go, Casanova.”

I give Rainy an apologetic look before the three of us make our way toward the exit.

“Is Teddy comin’ over so I can kick both of your asses in Fortnite?” Wilder asks, climbing into the passenger side of my truck.

“Can I take a rain check? I gotta work in the mornin’…or rather”—Jake checks the time on his phone—“in a few hours.”

“As do we,” I remind Wilder.

“Pussies,” Wilder slurs, falling back in the seat.

“Yeah, yeah. Buckle up,” I tell him before closing the door on him.

Jake smirks, and I shake my head. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime, man.”

“You need a ride?” I ask before getting into the driver’s side.

“Nah, I can walk.”

Jake lives two blocks away, so I don’t push it. “Alright, well, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, in the group chat! They’ll love havin’ ya.”

“Sure.” I release a humorless laugh. He knows I’m not that social. Especially to people I don’t know. Unlike Wilder, who could make friends with a brick wall.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m helping Wilder into his apartment above mine. It’s technically a duplex in the ranch hand quarters. Mom kicked us out at twenty-one because she was sick of us coming home at three in the morning. Not that I blame her. We partied a lot on the weekends.

“C’mon, one round?” he prompts, tripping over the shoe he just flung off his foot.

“Go to bed. You’re gonna be hungover for chores.”

He waves me off. “You’re no fun.”

I walk backward toward the door. “See ya in four hours.”

“How about…six?” He grins. “Cover for me.”

Turning around, I give him a middle-finger goodbye wave and go down the steps to my place. It’ll inevitably take me an hour to fall asleep and then my alarm will go off far too early.