Dalton loomed even more. “Gonna hafta grow a bit before that happens.”
People were starting to take notice. Rory said, “Stop it. Both of you.”
“Rory, who is this redneck asshole?” Dillon demanded.
“He’s my…” Boyfriend seemed too tepid a term. Lover was too intimate.
“Why you havin’ trouble explaining who I am to you?” Dalton said without looking away from his opponent.
“Dalton, this is Dillon. My ex-fiancé.”
Then Dalton did turn and look at her. “Are you fuckin’ serious? What the hell is Dildo doin’ here? Dancing with you? Goddamn kissing you.”
“I wasn’t kissing him back,” she said quickly.
“Jesus, I know that. It’s why I’m so pissed off.”
“Dalton—”
“I take it you’re the new boyfriend,” Dillon said.
“I am one helluva lot more to her than some simple goddamned boyfriend.”
“If that’s true, then isn’t it funny she never once mentioned your name during our dinner?”
Dalton made a low, snarling noise.
“A dinner in which she and I talked about getting back together?” Dillon taunted. “You must not mean as much to her as you think you do, redneck.”
Dalton didn’t punch Dillon; he jumped him, knocking him to the floor.
Then he punched him.
Dillon rolled away and slammed his fist into the side of Dalton’s head. He tried to hit Dalton in the throat, but Dalton blocked it and delivered an uppercut. Dillon looked dazed for an instant before he leveled a punch to Dalton’s gut.
Unfazed, Dalton lunged for Dillon again and they both crashed to the floor. Dillon dodging Dalton’s fists, bucking his hips to throw Dalton backward. Then Dillon was on top, whaling on Dalton.
Rory watched the fight, a dull roar whooshing in her head. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the rapid thump of her heart.
She couldn’t move.
Both men on the ground were bleeding.
A crowd gathered, but no one stepped in to stop them.
Then they were on their feet again. Swinging at each other. Dalton picked Dillon up by his shirtfront and threw him. Dillon crashed into a table and hit the floor.
Now that the men were separated, the bouncers stepped in.
Shit, not just the bouncers. Dalton’s cousin Cam McKay had one hand fisted in Dalton’s shirt. Cam wasn’t in his deputy’s uniform but he might as well have been, the way the crowd scattered.
Rory glanced over at Dillon and saw the bouncers had helped him to his feet. A cocktail waitress handed him a wad of napkins to mop up the blood on his face.
Dillon was listening to the bouncers, not paying attention to her.
When she returned her focus to Dalton, he continued to glare at Dillon while Cam dressed him down. A spike of fear went through her when Cam beckoned her over.
“Yes, deputy?”
Cam scowled. “I’m not on duty. I’m here on a rare night out with my wife, so dealing with this hothead wasn’t part of my plan. Goddammit, Dalton, when are you gonna learn fighting ain’t the answer?”
“Already learned it. I don’t do this anymore.”
“Then what was this tonight?”
“A warning. That fucker doesn’t get to put his hands on her, or his mouth on her. Ever.”
Dalton still didn’t look at her.
“If I let go of you, you’ll go after him again?” Cam asked.
“Most likely.”
“Fuck that. I’m taking you outside to cool you off.”
Dalton shook his head. “I’m not leavin’ Rory in here with him.”
“Dalton. I can take care of myself. It was all a misunderstanding—”
Then he was in her face. “Don’t defend him. I don’t give a shit what he was to you once; he’s not that to you anymore. He has no rights to you. All those rights belong to me now.”
“Omigod. Like I’m a piece of fucking property?”
Cam grabbed Dalton’s arm. “Not kiddin’. Outside. Now.” To Rory he said, “We’ll be waiting for you.”
Dalton snarled something but Cam got him moving.
Rory didn’t move toward Dillon until she knew Dalton was out the door. The bouncers left them alone.
Dillon was still mopping blood from beneath his nose. His right eye had swelled. Knuckle-shaped marks dotted the left side of his jaw. He’d bruise, most likely. His shirt was untucked and ripped. Yeah, he didn’t look so put together anymore.
He spoke first. “You could’ve mentioned you were seeing a fucking psycho.”
“He was supposed to be out of town.”
“Like that’s an excuse. Next you’ll tell me the two of you had a big fight.”
Her life was one big cliché. “Yeah, we did. He’s the jealous type.”
“How long have you been with him?”
“I’ve known him since I was six. He almost married my best friend and we lost track of each other after that.”
“Now you’re both living back here,” he stated flatly.
“So it appears.”
“Don’t give me that coyness. I’m bleeding, beat up and really pissed off at myself for coming here. So at least tell me if you’ve always been in love with him.”
Rory stared at him like he’d just said the most idiotic thing on the planet.
Dillon pressed his point. “I get it. Star-crossed lovers or something. Been in love with him since you were six. He broke your heart, or you broke his. You couldn’t have him so you settled for me, a guy who kind of looks like him.”
After seeing them together the only similarity between them was they were both men.
“Psycho-cowboy and I have more than a passing resemblance to each other, Rory. And don’t think he didn’t notice it too as he was punching me in the face.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Dil.”
“How about goodbye? Because I finally understand that we’re done. I also finally understand why you’re willing to stay in a shitty-paying, low-level state job.”
“Dalton has nothing to do with that. I didn’t even know where he lived when I took the job with the WNRC.”
Dillon squinted at her. “One thing I did learn by coming here? You’re right. We didn’t know each other. Because the Rory I thought I knew? She would’ve already filled out the applications for the positions with the Wyoming State Parks and she’d be the first in line to apply for the BLM position. The Rory I knew was ambitious, planning for a career and not just settling for a job. Your skills are being wasted at the WNRC. We both know it. So I hope he’s worth it.”
Rory lifted her chin. “I guess we’ll see if he thinks I’m worth it, because I am applying for those jobs, Dillon. All of them.”
A calculating smile stretched across his face. “Good. Now get away from me before he comes looking for you and finds you talking to me.”
She grabbed her purse and coat and exited through the employee entrance.
Coming around the corner, she saw Dalton pacing and Cam resting against the side of the pickup. Air puffed out of Dalton’s mouth with every step. He reminded her of one of those cartoon bulls—not that she’d voice the comparison.
The soles of her shoes scuffed on the gravel and they both turned around.
Then Dalton was on her, his big hands gripping her biceps. “What the fuck is goin’ on, Rory? I’m out of town two fucking days and I get a phone call from Busby, who says you’re out with another guy? A guy who I find out just happens to be your former fiancé?”
“He asked me to dinner. I accepted. We have a history, Dalton, whether or not you like it.”
“I don’t like it. Not at fucking all. Why didn’t you tell him about us?”
How was she supposed to answer that?
Dalton’s hands fell away.
The hurt on his face sliced through her like an ax.
“I can’t…do this right now.” Without another word he climbed in his truck and burned rubber getting away from her.
Cam stood beside her. “It’s best to let him cool off.”
“Says you. I’m giving him a five-minute head start, then I’m going after him. I caused this, I will cowgirl up and deal with it and with him.”
Cam said nothing.
“Thank you for stepping in. It would’ve been easier to ignore it.”
“He’s my cousin, Rory. I’d never ignore him and turn my back on him when he’s hurtin’. I know what that’s like.”
“Then you understand that I won’t leave him alone when he’s hurting and caught in my mess.”
Cam sighed. “I’ve broken up more of his fights than I care to admit to. I’ve seen him drunk, belligerent, broken and pissed off. I’ve never seen him on edge like this. So I gotta ask if you’re sure you can handle him?”
“Dalton won’t hurt me.” He’d been hurt in anger too many times in his life to do it to someone else. “Go in and enjoy the rest of the night with your wife.”
Rory got in her car and drove to his house to face the music.
Chapter Twenty-Two
If Dalton needed to replace the Sheetrock in the living room, he might’ve put his fist through the wall. Instead, he paced. Beyond angry with himself. With Rory. With the whole fucking situation.
Since he’d left Wyoming, he avoided barroom brawling. Yet, after seeing that cocksucker kissing Rory, there he was, fists leading the way. He rubbed his jaw. Guaranteed he’d feel the aches and pains come morning.
He’d hear about the stupidity of his public display from his brothers too. They’d railed on him about his fighting ways the last two years he lived in Sundance. He hadn’t been trying to prove anything; but there’d been a whole slew of guys angling for bragging rights for kicking the shit out of a McKay.
So yeah, he’d lost more fights than he’d won, simply because he’d been in more fights than his brothers and cousins.
