Hawk: by Dahlia West Page B

overly f amiliar with the Texas two-step or whatever the heck it was they were doing. She seemed to step on his foot more often than not, but the cowboy kept smiling.
    “You come to this place a lot?” he asked.
    Tildy shook her head. “No. Um. Not really.”
    He laughed. “It shows.” He spun her and drew her back in. There was a glint in his eye as he grinned at her. “Ever seen one this big?” he drawled.
    Tildy’s mouth dropped open. Without really meaning for it to, her gaze dropped down. As he took hold of a large belt buckle, she sighed in relief.
    “Rodeo,” he told her proudly. “We’re passing through. Next’s Wyoming. Then on down to Utah.”
    “Oh,” Tildy replied. “That’s nice. But... isn’t it dangerous?”
    He cocked his head. “I like danger,” he said with a smirk.
    Tildy just nodded.
     
     
    A few songs later and her feet had already had enough of Skylar’s boots. “I have to sit down,” she called out over the music.
    He led her back to the bar.
    “Can I get another Club Soda?” Tildy asked the woman.
    “How about something with a little more bite to it?” the cowboy asked. “I’ll buy.”
    Tildy shook her head. “No, really. Just soda. That’s it for me.”
    “Oughta loosen up, girl,” he replied, echoing Skylar’s earlier sentiments. He plunked down a bill and ordered two shots of tequila. The blonde poured.
    “No, really,” Tildy insisted. “I-”
    The cowboy put the shot in her hand. “Go on. Live a little, Princess,” he replied , just like the bartender had called her earlier.
    “I don’t drink.”
    The cowboy smiled. “Pleasure to be your first time.”
    Tildy blushed and tried to set the shot glass down. The cowboy stopped her. “Already paid for,” he reminded her.
    Tildy frowned. “I’m sorry about that,” she told him. “I can pay you back.” She reached for the pocket of her sweater.
    “Or you could jus t be polite and drink it,” the cowboy told her, though his tone was starting to sound anything but polite.
    Before Tildy could react , a large hand reached out and plucked the glass from her hand. Tildy turned to see Hawk looming over herself and her dance partner. Hawk drank the shot himself and placed the empty glass upside down on the bar. “Thanks for the drink,” he said in a gravelly voice.  He held out his hand to Tildy. “Come on,” he ordered.
    Tildy slipped her hand into his and got off the barstool.
    “Hey!” said the cowboy. “I was dancing with her.”
    “Thanks for the dance,” Hawk replied. He tried to lead Tildy away , but the cowboy wasn’t giving up.
    “I was dancing with her,” he repeated more loudly. He grabbed Tildy’s wrist. “I bought her a drink , and we were havin’ ourselves a nice time.”
    Hawk’s gaze zeroed in on Tildy’s wrist. “Get your fucking hand off her,” he snarled.
    The cowboy didn’t let go. Apparently he hadn’t been kidding about liking danger, because Hawk was almost twice his size and his expression was so menacing that even Tildy was alarmed.
    “How ‘bout you let go, Chief ? I got dibs.”
    “Dibs?” Hawk asked quietly.
    “That’s right. First come, first served. Ain’t that right, Princess?”
    Hawk let go of Tildy’s hand.
     
     
    Tildy had never seen an actual fight, before; only on the big screen and only when Tate made her go. Action movies weren’t really her thing. If she was expecting some long, drawn-out boxing match that culminated in a full-scale bar fight, then she’d seen way too movies. Hawk’s fist shot out like a striking rattlesnake, a blur. It connected with the cowboy’s jaw with a crack. He let go of Tildy’s wrist and tumbled to the floor.
    “There,” Hawk said. “I flipped you for her.”
    He took Tildy’s hand again and led her away. As they crossed the bar, a man Tildy recognized came striding toward them. Hawk caught sight of him, yanked Tildy across his front, and pivoted to face the way they’d just come. Tildy gasped to see the