“This seems dramatic,” she whispers back, humoring me. “Couldn’t you just tell her no?”
“Have you heard me say no to anyone today?” I whisper.
“No. But it’s something you should work on.”
“Let’s practice. Ask me something I should say no to.” I nibble on her neck. She tastes so sweet.
She laughs softly. “This feels like a trap.” Her hands drift down my body as if she can’t stop herself from touching me.
“I’d love for you to trap me,” I say. Feeling a little reckless, I add, “I’d skip right into anything that trapped me into being your boyfriend.”
“Shush, we’re talking about you establishing healthy boundaries withotherpeople.”
I can’t help but feel a crushing sense of rejection as she sidesteps my declaration. We belong together. Why won’t she accept it?
“I don’t care about other people. I care about you,” I say tenderly.
Her face shutters closed. I’ve pushed too far.
“But tell me more about these boundaries,” I murmur,changing tracks. “Like, how do you feel about me going down on you in a bookstore? Does that cross a boundary?”
She huffs a laugh. “Sex in public?Andin front of Jesus?” She nods at a cracked, sentimental painting of the Lord in question hanging over the door. “Logan LaSalle, I am such a bad influence on you.”
“You’re not,” I say, perhaps a little too intensely. “And if you are, so what? I like who I am around you.”
Her lips part, glistening in the low light. “I like who I am around you too,” she finally whispers. Both of my hands are in her hair now. I curl the warm, light-brown locks between my fingers, then tug her head toward me. She gasps against my lips, and I take advantage to dip my tongue into her warm, wet mouth.
A voice from nearby makes us jump. Caitlin—on the phone.
“…the nerve to show her face around here, after what she did,” she’s saying. “Now she’s hanging around Logan LaSalle again. God, I know. Honestly, her running away last time was the best thing that could’ve happened for him and his family. And the Hillermans. All of Sagebrush, really. Who knows what damage she could’ve done if she’d stayed?”
Both of us tense up. I can see the hurt in Sierra’s expression as we lock eyes.
Caitlin laughs, a brittle, mean sound that crackles through the quiet. “Oh, my god, Rachel. Don’t tempt her. A working brothel is not the authenticity Sagebrush needs.”
By the end of that outrageous pronouncement, I’m shaking with rage.
But Sierra grabs my arm, pulling me back, pressing her weight against me.
“Don’t say anything. Please,” she whispers.
I grit my teeth. I don’t want to let it go. “I’m going to tell that supercilious, self-righteous, horrible—”
“I just need to get out of here,” she says.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her outside, hating how powerless I feel. Wishing I could punch a hole in the window. The electric bell whines again, humiliating in its brightness. Caitlin will know we were eavesdropping. It takes so much effort to leave instead of marching back in there and demanding the coward repeat her nasty words to my face.
Mayor Ortiz is still standing outside, chatting with the gelato shop owner. “Logan! I was hoping to run into you today. Do you have a minute?”
“Mayor Ortiz,” I say shortly. I know I’m being rude, but I cannot give a fuck anymore. “Not now. Come by our offices next week.”
I move us away to find some privacy. Around the corner are the old saloon ruins. An old wrought-iron fence surrounds the saloon, and Sierra leans against it. I can’t stay still. I pace in front of it, feeling like a caged tiger. Moments like this prove I’m still the same—angry at everything. At how atrocious people can be. How helpless I am. How fucking trapped we are. Everything changes, and nothing changes. I’m still that impotent kid stuck in a small town full of small-minded people, powerless while the ones I care about most get hurt.
And the person who was hurt the most stands before me now, looking pale and small. The realization pours over me like ice water. The rage drains down to a low simmer.
I rub the back of my neck. “Listen, I know guys aren’t supposed to call womenbitches—”
Sierra snorts. “Then I will. Caitlin’s a bitch.”
