Page 33 of Winning His Wager

She hadn’t really ever felt this way before.

“Sure they do. I have danced with other guys, you know.” But she did one of the craziest things she had ever done in her life, and pressed her cheek against the man’s heart. “It’s not that I am so small, but you Tylers are all taller than average. Kind of freaks that way.”

“I’m six-four, not exactly a giant. You are small, no denying that. Beautiful, but small,” he said. His hands spread over the low back of her dress. His fingers pressed against her actual skin. Scorching, definitely scorching. The dress had a built-in bra. Dylan wasn’t wearing one, not that one would have been much protection. But she was incredibly aware of the heat of the man’s chest pressing against hers.

Fletcher washot.And not just temperature. How had Dylan missed that?

She just stayed right where she was, wrapped up inTruckboy’sarms as they swayed together to the music.

The world had seriously gone mad here. Just completely gone mad.

And Dylan just pressed closer.

* * *

He wantedto be the one she danced with all night. Fletcher scowled down at her as that thought sank in.Hewanted to. He didn’t want to watch her dance with that jerk Hauffman, or that damned Davis. Even his cousins should keep their hands to themselves.

Dylan was in his arms and damned if it didn’t feel right, holding her like this. He wanted to pull her as close as he possibly could, in spite of where they were now. With all of her family watching, and all of his.

The woman had rocked him to his core and she didn’t have a clue.

Instead, he kept a respectable distance between them—as much as possible, with her being so much smaller. Hell, he wanted to hold her like this all damned night. If she would just let him.

The dance didn’t last nearly long enough. When it was finished he stepped back and let her go. He had to.

That damned Quade Davis had just walked through the door, and whether he liked it or not, Dylan was Quade’s date tonight.

Not Fletcher’s.

He spun around and walked away before he said something stupid. Or yanked her up and carried her out of there like the damned caveman his sister had accused him and his brothers of being too many times before to count.

“Just your housekeeper, huh?” one of his cousins asked as Fletcher headed over toward where some of them were gathering. The ones without women of their own to wrap around tonight. “I am so going to get me one of those.”

“Shove it, Holton.”

“Someone is in a mood. I suspect I know why,” Reese said. “Yourhousekeeperis dancing with Davis, now. She not seeing you as the wonderful man you are yet?”

Hell, every damned Tyler was a pain in the ass. But Fletcher looked. Toward where Dylan was talking animatedly with Quade. Charlotte was there with them. That was all the excuse he needed.

He didn’t believe Quade was justpretendingwith Dylan. Not for one minute. Men like Quade played with women. He liked the other guy well enough, but he wasn’t stupid. The Davis brothers had earned their reputations with women. He was damned sure of it.

Well, Dylan wasn’t going to be another notch on a Davis brother’s belt.

She just wasn’t.

He almost stalked over there. He tapped Charlotte on the shoulder.

Charlotte looked up at him and gave him her trademark smirk. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey. Didn’t realize you would be here tonight.”

“Heading back to Finley Creek in the morning. I had to do a slight reshoot today up here, flew up on the five a.m.” She looked exhausted. No wonder. Her friends in Finley Creek had been going through hell lately.

“Dance with me?” He didn’t want to just stand there like a dumbass. Not with Davis leading Dylan out to the dance floor. Wrapping her up close like that. Closer than even Fletcher had. “We can talk.”

And he could keep an eye on Davis—make sure that Wonkus clown behaved himself.

“Sure. You can tell me what’s got your ass in a knot. You and Dylan fighting again?”