Catching the Cowboy (Circle B Ranch #2) - Kennedy Fox Page 0,2

By the time I manage to get him into the back seat and drive into town, it’ll be close to midnight. I don’t want to keep Rowan waiting around by herself or worse, with those little dicks from her class.

“Say goodbye. We’re going.” I stand and tower over him. Riley might be muscular from working on the ranch, but I have a good four inches and fifty pounds on him. Grabbing his arm, I lift him to his wobbly feet. “You’re gonna be puking your fuckin’ guts out.”

“Whatever you say, Dad,” he mocks, and the other guys laugh. If he wasn’t my best friend and a decent human—sober—I’d leave his ass out here for his parents to find in the morning.

With fifteen minutes to spare, I pull into the parking lot. Since Riley’s passed out in the back seat, I leave the truck running and hop out. Parents are already starting to arrive to pick up their kids, so instead of waiting out here, I go inside to check on Rowan.

I spot her under the disco ball dancing with a bunch of girls. She’s smiling, but it seems forced. Her cousin Mackenzie is with her, drawing tons of attention, as usual. Ten minutes later, the DJ announces the final slow song of the night. He then tells the guys to find their sweetheart, and one approaches their circle but grabs Kenzie’s hand. She grins wide, and the two of them walk away. I watch Rowan’s fake smile drop as do her eyes before wrapping her arms around her waist and leaving the dance floor.

What the fuck?

As much as I don’t want guys near her, I don’t understand why the hell none of them at least asked her to dance.

I warned most of them off last year, so it must’ve actually worked.

After thirty seconds of watching her stand alone with that sad expression, I can’t stand it. Suddenly, I’m halfway across the gym, moving toward her.

“Row…” I grab her attention, and she looks shocked as hell.

“What are you—?”

I tilt my head toward the dance floor. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” Holding out my hand, I nod for her to take it.

When she finally does, I don’t even try to contain my smile. I lead her out into the middle under the sparkling disco ball, then pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, holding my shoulders because she’s too short to place her arms around my neck. But holding her this way is perfect.

“Your idiot brother is as drunk as a skunk, so I drove us here. Came inside to check on you and didn’t want you to miss out on dancing to the last song.”

She licks her lips and swallows. “The boys here don’t like me. They say I’m too much. Too loud. Too—”

“They’re fuckin’ morons,” I interject.

Rowan looks down and shrugs. “Oh well.”

I tilt up her chin and gaze into her gorgeous brown eyes. “Trust me, none of them are good enough for you.”

“You have to say that.” She sighs, her shoulders rising and falling. “You’re my brother’s best friend.”

I scoff. “No, I don’t. I’m not your brother.”

She shrugs casually. “Close enough. You pick on me worse than him. Always around. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to pants me in public yet.”

Our laughter eases the tension. “That’s Riley’s specialty,” I tease, remembering the time he did it to Rowan a few years ago at one of their family’s picnics. She was livid and ended up sucker punching him between the legs.

“Middle school boys are dumb,” she states.

A smile spreads across my face. “High school ones are too. Don’t forget that.”

When she’s a freshman next fall, I’m going to have to try not to be so overbearing. I’ll be a sophomore, and we’ll be on opposite sides of the building, but I’ll still keep my eye on her. It’ll be better than her attending another school altogether. Hopefully, I’ll see her around after class, considering I play football and baseball, and she’ll probably try out for the softball team.

Everyone in this town is well aware of my family ties with the Bishops. I make sure Rowan and her cousins aren’t messed with, especially when Riley isn’t around.

“I love this song,” she says softly.

I know she does. She plays it on repeat in her room. I’ve noticed she likes listening to slower songs while she studies and does homework.

“Who’s the singer?” I ask as if I’m clueless.

“Shawn Mendes,” she tells me and I nod, pretending