Unable to Resist Read Online Free Page A

go to bed. I do it daily, without fail. That’s my life. I don’t have much time for anything else.
    I also know that with the life I lead, I have to consider Aiden needs time to be a kid. Twenty-one can be a confusing age if you don’t have time to go out and have a little fun.
    “Alright,” I concede, “let me get this stuff done and we’ll head out.”
    Aiden whoops and leads Leo in a gallop off toward the house. “Hell yeah! Hurry up!”
    Hurry up? It’s only five. Doesn’t he know most bars are dead until later in the night?
    I shake my head; maybe I do need to take him out more often. Clucking to Simon we head back to the barn.
    After I get Simon unsaddled, spray off the caked on sweat he has on his back from the saddle, and put him in his stall, I finish my errands and walk to the house, hoping to get some time to shower.
    Okay, so—I look like a moron.
    When I originally walked out of my room, dressed for the night, I had on wranglers, boots and a button-up plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up my forearms. Aiden’s instant, and dramatic look of disapproval told me everything I needed to know.
    He didn’t like what I was wearing.
    If I’m not at the office, which calls for a suit and tie, I’m dressed in my comfortable clothes.
    So when Aiden’s eyes bulged and he told me to go change, I couldn’t understand what the big deal was.
    Evidentially this “bar” wasn’t country.
    He said that, and still, I didn’t care. But, Aiden insisted I change into something more swag and less hick.
    His words, not mine.
    What the hell does swag mean?
    So, I had stomped back into my room, dug through the clothes in my closet and found something that somewhat resembled swag.
    Now, here I am. Sitting on my bed, feeling like an ass just thinking about that stupid word. I’m still confused on the meaning.
    Finding the only pair of skinny skinny jeans my last girlfriend bought me; I opt for a pair of Converse and look in the mirror.
    Fucking. Idiot.
    I shake my head at my reflection and head downstairs.
    When I return to the living room both Aiden and Doug, tonight’s ringleader, are sitting at the table eating sandwiches. They look up at me and say nothing.
    I guess that means I pass then.
    “I made you one, too. It’s in the fridge,” Aiden says through a full mouth, reminding me of the little thirteen-year-old who used to make dinner every night because I didn’t have time.
    He’s a good kid.
    “Thanks, brother.” I reach in the fridge to pick up my two-pound sandwich. Nice.
    Making myself comfortable at the table, I ask, “So, where exactly are we going?”
    Doug looks up from demolishing his dinner. “It’s a piano bar. I don’t know. My buddy from school is working the opening and can get us in for free. If it’s lame, we can bail.” He shrugs, wiping his mouth.
    When we pull up to the bar, my teeth clench. It’s a fucking honkey tonk. A mother-fucking honky tonk. I’m going to kill Aiden.
    I shoot him a death glare and he just laughs, totally unaffected by my menacing stare.
    Little fucker.
    Parking my old Ford pickup in the back, I put it in park and look around. There isn’t a skinny jean in sight.
    I can’t believe I let him talk me into dressing like this. I can’t go in there.
    Aiden sees me steaming and chuckles. “Dude, chill out. I brought you clothes. I just wanted to see you sweat.”
    I cut him a look that hopefully reads like I’ll reach across the truck and choke him. Seriously? What a punk ass.
    He throws me a duffle bag filled with my wranglers and boots.
    Ducking behind my truck I quickly strip off my dumbass jeans and chuck them in the trash bin. I don’t need another reason to wear them again. Tugging my boots on my feet, I shake my anger off and head to the front entrance.
    Aiden and Doug are standing off to the side waiting for me.
    “Aren’t we going to stand in line?” I ask. There is a line of people wrapped around the building and, from the looks on their faces,