One couple in particular catches my attention right away. A woman on the shorter side, with light brown hair, wearing tight denim cut-offs with a white tank top, is dancing with what looks to be an incredibly attractive man. I say looks to be, because his face is turned away from my view, but goddamn, he looks fine.

He’s got black, slightly shaggy hair, and he’s really tall. I’m over six feet, and he’s gotta be at least a few inches taller than me. He’s in light denim wranglers that do wonders for his tight ass, a well-worn leather jacket, with a plain white tee underneath, and a pair of combat boots.

Fuck me. He could step on me with those on, and I’d say thank you.

If I go up to the bar again, I’d be able to see his face better. “Hey, guys. Wanna do shots?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Weston is always—and I mean always—down for shots.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” With quick steps, I head toward the bar. It’s still just as busy as it was when I got the beers, but that’s okay. I can watch the hottie in leather while I wait.

With my back to the bar, my gaze easily finds him and the chick he’s dancing with. She’s grinding all up on him, and it’s doing things to me. My preference is men, but technically, I do swing both ways. However, it’s not her I’m looking at.

Leather Daddy’s face comes into view, and he looks so familiar. I can’t place where I know him from, but I swear I do.

“Back so soon, hun?”

Turning toward the voice, the flirty bartender from before is smiling at me. “Yes, ma’am. Can I please get three tequila shots? Patron, please.”

“Coming right up, sugar.”

My attention is pulled back toward the dance floor while I wait. The woman is now facing him, her arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders, their bodies pressed together. His hands are resting on her ass—which is almost hanging out with how short her shorts are. His full lips hover over her ear as he whispers something to her. Then his gaze lifts, landing on me.

I freeze, and like a moron, turn around as fast as possible, awkwardly bumping into the person beside me. Because that’s not fucking obvious. Thankfully, the bartender comes back with my shots, so it’s not too embarrassing if he’s still watching me.

“Here you go, hun.”

“Thanks so much!”