Now they were holding up shots. Shots! They tossed them back while Cassidy watched, then she grinned and downed hers. Her head tipped back and I dreamed of giving her a hand necklace.
Then she winced and grabbed a beer as a chaser. How many had she already had? After, she high-fived one of them and walked off. Where the hell was she going by herself? In a jean skirt that stopped several inches above her knees and a halter top that showed off her tits and–Jesus fucking Christ–bared half her back. I stared and so did half the guys in the place. Where the hell was she going? The bathrooms were in the other direction.
She stopped in front of the guy who ran the mechanic–
“Oh, fuck, no,” I said, then popped to my feet.
“What’s the matter?” Cody asked, suddenly concerned.
I watched as Cassidy fell on the protective mat,then pushed up. She swayed, as if the ground was rocking, then clumsily climbed on the bull.
Cassidy was drunk. Barely supervised. Underage. Hot as hell.
“She needs a fucking keeper,” I said aloud.
Cody heard me. “Who?”
“Cassidy.”
“Who?” he asked again. “The one on the bull? A little young for you.”
I growled as I tore my gaze away from her riding the bull to glare at my friend. “She’s mine.”
Cody outright laughed. Slapped me on the shoulder. “The final Wilder has fallen. Have fun with that one,” he said as I left him, stalking across the bar toward Cassidy, who was somehow still on the bull, ready to poke every guy’s eyes out on the way, seeing her tits bounce, her skirt ride up and imagining she was riding their dicks.
I’d thought it was best if I stayed away. A month of thinking that was blown to hell when she walked into this bar. She needed someone to take care of her. To protect her. To keep her safe. To fucking punish her.
Cassidy Cove was mine.
3
CASSIDY
I layon the mat laughing. That had been so much fun! While I knew all about horses, I’d never really considered myself much of a cowgirl. They didn’t really have any in Vermont. Maybe I could be a bull rider. I fanned my face, feeling sweaty. I was so thirsty!
I rolled onto my stomach, then pushed up, swung my leg over the edge of the thick padding and stood, pushed my hair back. I opened the little safety gate and stepped out and–
“Oof.”
I ran right into a wall. Of man. A hard chest, soft cotton. He smelled of fresh laundry.
“Careful,” he said, setting his hands on my bare forearms. His skin was warm. His hold gentle, but they somehow felt like handcuffs, like he wasn’t going to let me go.
I tipped my head back and–
“It’s you.”
Hayes Wilder. His blond brow winged up.
“It’s me.” His voice was deep and made me shiver, and I was far from cold.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“What areyoudoing here?” he asked right back.
“Happy hour with guys from the ranch.”
“Happy hour ended three hours ago.”
