I force myself to make no reaction to his words. I can’t say I’m surprised. Seconds ago, his face was between my legs like he couldn’t get enough, and now he's back to sending me away just like he had a few weeks ago.
Hot.
Cold.
Hot.
Cold.
I’ve been nursing this crush since I was a kid, but there’s only so many hits my pride can take before I realize my self-esteem is in the freaking gutter.
I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, embarrassment threatening to spill over, but I refuse to let him see it. With a steady hand, I smooth my dress back down over my hips and legs, forcing calm into every movement. My face remains neutral as I stand, lifting my chin high, determined to mask the sting of rejection with indifference. I swallow what little pride I have left and remind myself that I deserve better and knew not to expect anything more from him. At least I experienced my first orgasm via a mouth and damn was it a memory that I’ll never forget.
Plastering my most convincing smile on my face I respond, “Ok. Sure. I’ll see you around, Clay,” before I open the locker room door without a second glance his way. I walk to my car with Dallas by my side, him giving me a nod like he knows exactly what went down in that locker room and I sure hope that he doesn’t.
The drive home is silent, my mind racing as I remind myself of the promise I’d made long ago: never let my heart fall for Clay. And frankly, I don’t think I had. Sure, that was the most mind-bending orgasm I’d ever had. Better than any that my toy or dildo collection could deliver, but sex could be just that - right? Pleasure without connection. Even if it was delivered by a guy I’d once adored.
The thing is, the guy I’d once adored isn’t in there anymore, no matter how much my heart aches for the memory of him.
I’ve been foolish for too long, holding on to the hope that Clay would ever see me as more to him but that’s all over now.
I’m done acting childish and will never let my self-esteem be diminished by him again.
Chapter 17 – Clay
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Wylie hollers at me from across the stables as I fill the water trough for his horses.
“Yeah, that’sexactlywhat I want to hear after pulling another double shift at the station, skipping sleep, and dragging my ass out here to help you,” I shoot back, shaking my head.
I shut off the valve for the hose and run my hand down the silky mane of the old white mare beside me, admiring the way it shines in the dim barn light since I’ve brushed her. She used to be my mom’s favorite. She’s way too old for roping and riding now, but Dad insisted on keeping her in the family. None of us boys would have dared argue with him anyways. We like her, too.
Wylie makes his way over to me, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder—one of those brotherly grips meant to show affection but hurt just a little too much. I flex under his grip, reminding him without my words that I’m not the scrawny kid he used to tower over and push around. Ten years of muscle has leveled the playing field between us now.
“Do you actually work at the fire station? Or just sit there and gossip while you lift weights?” he pounds his fist against my chest firmly, right where I’d taken a hit a few weeks ago. I clench my jaw, concealing the fact that it’s still bruised and tender.
“I don’t think an old man like you has any room to talk. When was the last time your hand held something other than your cock or Stevie’s ass?”
Wylie throws his head back, barking out a laugh before smiling up at Snowball and giving her an affection pet. “You ever talk about my wife’s ass again, I’ll kick yours. Now tell me what you’ve been thinking about. You’ve been wearing a scowl since you got here this evening.”
“I’ve had a long day. I’m tired. It’s hot as shit, and I’m hungry.”
And I can’t get Maggie Hollister out of my head.
“Stevie made meatloaf and green beans for dinner if you want some. You know Georgia’s on this new vegetarian diet and won’t eat anything but fruit and veggies. There’s a pitcher of iced tea and you can rest on the couch before you make the drive home.”
“That sounds like the least you can do considering I don’t take a pay roll from you or Nash anymore.”
“We like to think you enjoy working for us for free. Miss seeing us,” he shoots me a wink.
I snort, even though he’s partly right. Between pulling shifts at the station and training with Dallas, the only way I see my brothers—and my niece and nephews—is by pitching in at the ranch now and then when they need extra help. But it’s just another thing wearing me down, sapping the energy that I’d rather save for fighting.
There’s a tournament around the corner, and right now, I’m sitting in second place. If I can lock in two more wins, I’ll be contending for first. That means better fighters, tougher competition—the kind I need. It’s not about the meager five hundred bucks I’d win: that’s nothing. It’s about proving to myself that I can achieve something on my own, without anyone else’s help.
The problem? My training’s been garbage ever since the fight where Maggie showed up.
No matter how hard I try not to think about her, all I can recall are the little sighs and groans that she made when I ate her sweet pussy. And what I’d said to her was true. It was a downright crime that no one had done that for her before, though the satisfaction in knowing I was the first made me want to beat my chest like some sort of cave man.
That’s probably where most of my frustration this evening was coming from. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve had sex, and the first chance I get to let off some steam, I’m turning it down, choosing to finish in my own damn fist in a dingy locker room shower instead. Because the thought of ruining her the way I want to is way too much.
