I take that as my cue to slip away. I need to do one more check of the roughstock before the ceremony begins. It was something my father taught me from the beginning.“Never trust someone else to do what you should do yourself,”he’d told me time and time again.
Shouldering my way through the crowd, I can’t control the grin that pulls at the corners of my mouth. Just five hours and then I’ll have her back in my arms.
Stalking my way to the barn where the bulls and calves are held, I’m lost in my thoughts of her. She’ll stay here tonight while all the rooms are being rented out, but hopefully I’ll be able to convince her to come back to the cabin once they all check out.
It was our one and only night together. There are these prickling devil thoughts in the back of my mind that I hadn’t even deserved that. That it might have been my one chance to have her. That dominant monster within that comes out in the bedroom growls in my chest, pissed we haven’t gotten to sinkinto her core yet. We haven’t felt her walls flutter around us or heard her moan our name as she comes all over my cock.
Yet the gentleman my father raised me as praises me for doing this right. For respecting her and just allowing myself to revel in the feel of her in my arms. Reminding myself that if I do this right, there will be plenty of time for it all, even if there are a million reasons I should let someone give her a better life.
Running through my roster of competitors for the weekend, my phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket.
It’s rare anyone reaches out on rodeo nights. The close circle of people I keep in my life knows I’m focused. When I’m in work mode, I’m not one to be disturbed.
My brow scrunches low seeing my lawyer’s name on the caller ID. “Hello?” I answer, confused by the call at six on a Saturday evening. I’m sure the man works day and night, but I’m likely one of his easier clients.
“Hi, Nash. Sorry to bother you, but we have a huge problem.”
“With what?” My heart rate skyrockets, wondering which deal has gone so far off the rails that my lawyer needs to get involved. It’s happened a few times throughout the years. Usually, some long-lost family member or offspring crawls out of the woodwork claiming rights to the land or property. My guy hasn’t lost a battle yet, but that’s because I’m pretty sure he’s a mob lawyer. From the slicked-back hair and the custom suits and thousand-dollar shoes, he walks, talks, and fights like criminals are his highest clientele, and he’s determined to make you believe they’re not.
“It’s the Kaufman deal.”
“What about it?”
“You’re going to want to get back to Montana. Now.”
Fuck.
Chapter 23
Betty
Nash:I can’t meet up tonight.
Nash:I’m sorry. I’ll call you later.
My heart sinks. Nash and I were supposed to get together after the rodeo to walk along the beach. He’d said he hadn’t done it in years, and it was likely where we’d be free from the crowd and prying eyes.
It’s only been a week since we became… well, I don’t know what we are, but it feels like we’re moving in the right direction.
No, it felt like we were moving in the right direction until he just texted saying he couldn’t see me tonight. There wasn’t even enough time for me to respond to his first text before the second one came in, effectively cutting off any attempt to question why.
So here I am sitting on the edge of my bed, alone, trying to pretend like I’m not upset. Like, I’m not worried he’s pulling away from me all over again.
Was it something I did? Something I said?
Is he already bored with me?
Tears burn behind my eyes, and I hate myself for crying, especially when I don’t know what’s going on. He mentioned his mom isn’t doing well. Maybe it was an emergency with her, or an animal was injured. It’s happened before. Last season, River practically operated on a bull before Gray showed up.
It could be nothing.It’s fine, Betty.
It’s a fight to go through the motions before bed. My limbs seem to be filled with cement as dread weighs me down. The minutes stretch as I stand in the shower, my head tilted against the wall. I’m too scared to move, because I might collapse on the floor and no one would find me.
When I finally do move, I don’t even bother drying my body or hair, simply slipping into my robe and then under the covers of my bed. I lay there hugging my pillow, staring at the ceiling. My mind won’t quiet. It keeps replaying every moment I have ever interacted with Nash over the years.
Every second plays through my mind. From the night he found me in the grass staring up at the stars to the night of his last football game, when my dad and Beckett held him up on their shoulders, and he’d hugged me because he loved the hand-drawn sign I’d made for him. Then to every Sunday night dinner, and a few days ago, when he took me out in the fields with one of his horses.
He’d been so surprised I’d never ridden one, so he helped me up before hopping into the saddle behind me. His firm hands guided my movement as he coached me on how to use the reins and my legs to direct Casper. Turns out that was his favoritemovie growing up, so when he got his first horse, a stunning white beauty, he named her after the friendly ghost.
