“’Course,mija,” Miguel says, but his eyes dart between us like he’s trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
“No.”
The word comes out harder than I intended, and everyone turns to look at me. Willa’s eyes flick tome with a hard glare.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not riding with Miguel.” My Alpha is pushing at me now, demanding I stake my claim, mark my territory. “You’re coming with me.”
“Like hell I am.”
“Willa.” I step closer, and she takes a step back, but there’s nowhere for her to go with the pen rail behind her. “You’re hurt, you’re shaken up, and you just had a near-death experience. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“You’re—you’re notlettingme?” Her voice wavers, sharp with disbelief. “Who the hell do you think you are, Jake? You don’t… You lost the right to let me do anything. Six years ago.”
The crowd is eating this up.
“Everyone, back to work,” I bark, and my voice carries enough Alpha authority that most of them scatter. Miguel hesitates, looking between us.
“Willa?” he says. “I don’t mind driving you.”
I level him with a stare that makes him take a step back. “I’ve got her.”
“I can speak for myself,” Willa snaps, but Miguel’s already backing away with his hands up.
“Sorry,mija. You two work it out.”
And then we’re alone, standing in the circle of light from the overhead bulbs, staring at each other across six years of silence and regret. I can feel her anger pouring off her. My skin prickles with the intensity of it.
I walk over to the boys and tell them I’ll see them in the morning at six a.m. for warm-ups, and start heading toward the back lot through the side loading doors. I look behind me and gesture at her to follow.
She stands there, stiff and stubborn. I’m forced to use the only thing I know she’ll hate more than giving ground to me in front of everyone else.
“Woman, remember Cheyenne?”
I want to eat up the flush that cascades over her face as she remembers exactly the night I’m talking about. The memory runs through my mind.
I had carried her over my shoulder after placing a rather loud smack to her ass, through a crowded restaurant, straight to my truck. In all fairness, I had warned her that if she didn’t stop trying to rile me up, I was going to.
I stand and wait for her to walk in front of me, and I follow her, trying not to stare at the way her ass looks in those jeans.
Some things never change.
I walk up and open the door for her, but she stands there staring back at me, biting her bottom lip. Her arms are crossed over her chest.
“Get in the truck, Willa,” I say, unintentionally lacing my voice with a tiny bit of bark. She rolls her shoulders, visibly affected by the sound. I wasn’t expecting that, and I tuck the information away for later.
“Go fuck yourself, Jake.”
The ride starts in complete silence. She sits pressed against the passenger door like I might bite her, staring out the window with her arms crossed. I keep stealing glances at her profile, at the stubborn line of her jaw, at the way her hair has escaped its ponytail to curl around her face.
Six years. Six fucking years, and she still makes my chest tight.
Her scent fills the cab of my truck despite whatever blockers she’s using, and it’s driving me crazy. Sweet and familiar.
I could have had her. Instead, I left her with a broken heart. And for what?
I sneak a peek at her from the corner of my eye, and the look on her face is devastating. It’s sad and lonely and so filled with anger that it hurts.
