I nearly jump when Mollie appears at my elbow.
“Earth to Ryder. Are you ill?”
Leave it to her to get straight to the point.
“Don’t worry.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “I’m going home.”
“You could go home.” Mollie glances out at the dance floor. “Or you could go ask Billie to dance withyouinstead of that rando.”
“What’s the deal with girls always liking bull riders?”
Mollie shrugs. “They’re bad for us, and therefore we like them. Simple girl math. But you…I don’t think you’d be all that bad for Billie.”
“I’m not—she’s not—I ain’t getting in her way.”
“Whatever you say,” Mollie says with a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Could you stop staring at her, then? It’s making everyone uncomfortable.”
You got no idea how uncomfortable I’ve been all damn week with a dick that won’t stay down and sleep that won’t come.
“I’m just looking out for her. Like you said: Can’t trust a bull rider.”
Mollie rolls her eyes again, then orders another round and heads back out to dance.
Only when the bull rider whispers in Billie’s ear and they exit the dance floor several songs later do I blink, the awful fucking spell broken.
He leads her by the hand in the direction of the Rattler’s front entrance. Wait, where are they going? Is he taking her home?
I’ve officially lost my ever-loving mind.
Our gazes meet one last time as she lets him lead her out of the bar. I can’t tell if the look on her face is a pleading one—please, please, come get me—or one that’s defiant.Fuck you, loser.
Either way, I can’t just stand here and do nothing. Even though that’sexactlywhat I’ve been doing for God knows how long.
Go. The fuck. Home.
I actually do go home. I ignore the persistent feeling in my gut that I should follow Billie. Instead, I dig the keys to my truck out of my pocket and drive it all the way home.
I’m in my bed, naked and sweating and restless, when the text comes through.
Billie.
Goddamn it.
But I slide my thumb over the screen anyway. My stomach immediately bottoms out when I see what she sent me.
CHAPTER 14
Come Again
BILLIE
BILLIE
Are u ok?
I debatedfor the whole ride to the field party whether or not I should send Ryder a text. We’re just friends. And friends don’t check in with each other on Fridays at midnight.
Then again, friends don’t stare you down with daggers in their eyes while you dance with other guys.
