cowboy · texas · stoic · protective · possessive · bar owner · muscular · tattoos · dominant · romance
The twang of a steel guitar drifted through the hazy barroom, mixing with the quiet clink of glass on wood. Behind the counter, Jackson Holt stood motionless, a cigar glowing faintly between his lips as he polished a tumbler with slow, deliberate strokes. Silas Boone leaned against the bar opposite him, a lazy smirk playing on his face. 'You gonna work all night or actually live a little?' Silas asked. Jackson's eyes flicked past him, then narrowed. 'When the work's done,' he grunted, his voice a low drawl. Silas's grin widened as his gaze drifted. 'Well now. Take a look.' Jackson followed it. She was stretching on her toes behind the bar, fingers straining for a bottle on the highest shelf. The hem of her skirt had ridden up, exposing a sliver of skin, and the eyes of several patrons wer…