Maybe they’re not talking about Rowe.
“You think so? I’ve never been with a man like that before. He looks like he’d be able to toss me around. And those tattoos? I’d like to see the ones he’s hiding. Is he wearing number twelve?”
Or maybe they are.
Lacey sucks in a breath beside me, and then her hand is on my arm. Her grip tightens as if she’s trying to use it to keep me in place. She doesn’t have the strength to keep me seated if I decided to rip myself free.
“Go for it, then! Tell him he rode well. He did win, after all.”
Shade clears his throat. I don’t look at him, even when he scoots forward in his seat and tries to block my view of them.
“Okay, okay. I’ll go.” The one with the grannie earrings leans into her friend and says something I don’t catch before speaking louder. “Wish me luck.”
She stands and swipes her palms down the length of her knee-length skirt. Lacey’s fingers dig into my arm, pulling at me when I stand and lurch forward. My knee knocks against Millie’s before she twists, making room for me.
Shade’s curse falls onto deaf ears when I set my hand on the woman’s shoulder and shove her back down into her still-warm seat. A surprised squeak escapes her, drawing eyes from the few people closest to us. Her friend with the bob turns her head and stares at me, her eyes blown wide with worry.
“What are you doing?” she asks, voice high-pitched and tight.
Bending at the waist, I bring my mouth to the ear of the woman who was planning on going to see my man and purr, “He’s taken. Now, keep your ass in this seat, or fuck off out ofhere. If I hear you talking about number twelve again, I’ll rip these earrings out and feed them to one of those bulls.”
I pinch one of the earrings for good measure and give a light tug before straightening. The need to get down and away from here is intense enough that I don’t bother with goodbyes to my friends. There’s a twitch in my fingers that I hide by shoving them into my pockets before pushing my way past the rest of the people sitting in our aisle.
My skin is hot, both from the sunburn I know is starting to pinken my shoulders and the possessiveness ripping a pit in my stomach. I move quickly down the few stairs to the ground and immediately duck beneath them on my way to the gate ahead of me.
The burly man standing with his back against the fence from inside the chute area glances over his shoulder at me. His lips part over words I ignore as I reach over the gate and unhook the latch myself.
“Move.”
He blinks slowly, surprise thick in his stretched expression. “You allowed back here? Where’s your pass?”
“I’m allowed,” I snap.
“Show me your pass,” he repeats stubbornly.
I shove the gate open an inch before it hits the man’s stomach. He grunts at the impact but still stands in my way, glaring now.
“I’m here with Rowe Carrigan. Now, let me in before I jump the fence.”
“Ma’am, I’m sure you think you can just sneak back here to try and find a cowboy, but that isn’t how it works. I’m going to need you to show me a pass or turn around before I have to remove you.”
I jostle the gate harder, prepared to cut this guy in half with it, when a black hat appears over his shoulder. The tension leaks out of me instantly, and I let the gate go.
“She’s with me, Clark. Back off before I kick your ass for threatening her,” Rowe commands, his voice low and gravelled.
He gives a tug to the back of the man’s shirt and has him taking a few forced steps backward. The space isn’t empty for long before I’m pushing through the gate. Rowe moves Clark aside and then releases him, letting his hand drop to his thigh.
The look he gives me makes me feel like a naughty teenager caught sneaking in too late. I preen beneath it, that lingering heat stoking back to life in my chest.
“You’re going to drive me fucking crazy, Tilly. Steal a pass from someone next time so I don’t wind up in a brawl.”
I exhale heavily, like I actually might be considering his words when really, I’m not. Flattening my hands against his pecs, I stare into his deep grey gaze, letting it trap me. With an inhale, I drag my touch up and over his shoulders, squeezing softly.
“Make up your mind, Rowe. You either want all of me or you don’t. There’s no middle ground anymore. Not if I’m going to stay. I won’t do it again.”
The skin between his brows crinkles when he takes a large step toward me, our toes clacking. “You’ve gotta be more specific. Which parts do you think I don’t already want?”
“The same ones nobody does. Every twisted part that winds up always being a turnoff that I learn about years down the road.”
