Chapter 11 Siri, End Call
JADE
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OUR BODIES brUSH together. His breath is hot on my neck as his hands explore my curves. The woodsy scent of him drives me wild.
Cedarwood and pine.
It’s engraved in my head.
“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that wet pussy of yours.” I didn’t know I liked dirty talk until he says it, his voice dripping with lust.
His hand trails down my stomach, then his fingers brush against my tender spot, spreading my legs wider.
I gasp.
His deep chuckle has a powerful effect on me. He slides a finger inside me, making me moan even louder.
“You’re so fucking wet for me, Jade.” His voice is husky with desire. “I can’t wait to make you come.”
I feel my breath falter at the dirty talk. I want more. So much more.
“Are you ready, darlin’?” His voice is rough and quiet in my ear.
“Yes.” I’m a shaky whisper.
He removes his finger, and his mouth replaces the hot spot. A rush of heat floods me. His tongue laps at my folds.
I moan beneath him.
His lips close around my clit, his tongue flicking at it, turning my world upside down.
My moan intensifies, my fingers threading through his hair, thick and soft, pulling him closer to me.
“You taste so fucking good.” His mouth and tongue work together in perfect harmony, making me see colors I didn’t even know existed.
My orgasm builds, my body tensing, as I get closer and closer to the edge. Each flick spiralling me there.
As I finally reach my blissful peak and the world around me explodes into a kaleidoscope of sensations, he looks up at me from between my legs.
He looks at me with that cocky smirk and overconfident smile I hate.
His wrists are handcuffed and his feet shackled. He’s wearing a prisoner jumpsuit, but his situation doesn’t stop his tawny brown eyes from piercing deep inside me like he’s seeing the parts of me I’d never reveal.
And I’d never reveal them to him—to Hart-fucking-Wilde.
“Let go, baby. Let me feel you come apart in my hands.”
I jolt awake and scream.
My body is drenched in sweat, and the sheets stick to my skin.
The dryness on my tongue is unbearable. I move my mouth, hoping for moisture, but only find the sour, bitter, and metallic aftertaste of last night’s cocktails.
A flash of the evening hits me: shots, birthday laughter, my sisters, the dart, Bronx saving me from a flirting disaster that went south in a hurry, and Hart.
Damn Hart, exposing my bucket list word for bloody word.
A groan presses past my dry lips, and I push away all the memories of last night.
My head’s not pounding, but there’s a dull fuzziness. My body feels heavy, but not sick.
I throw off the sheets and stand up too fast. I feel it. Not drunk. Not dizzy. I’m just off-balance.
I make my way down the hallway, keeping in mind that my brain’s a second behind my body.
I strip out of the damp T-shirt I used as a nightie and don’t wait for the shower to warm up. The cold water hits me, and I welcome the shock. I embrace it, and scrub away any remnants of my dream—nightmare.
But that look wasn’t just a bad dream. Hart’s eyes held that same haunting fire just before Sheriff Nash’s hand forced him into the back seat of the cruiser.
That dark, raw, broken, but guarded and unreachable look.
It burned to my core, so deep, so hard—so damn confusing, and not my business whatsoever.
“Not my business. Just forget it all,” I mutter out loud, patting my body with a towel, before throwing on jeans and a T-shirt. I skip slipping into my Aztec sweater because it stinks like booze.
I can’t have his stare creeping into my sleep and between my legs on a loop.
“Forget him. Forget the biker. Forget the bucket list. Forget the rodeo—”
I gasp.
“Nooooo.” It’s a howl that tears from my soul.
I agreed to attend the rodeo with my sisters. And not only that, but to complete my bucket list with them and the Wilde brothers.
The weight behind my eyes is shifting into a headache, and it takes me longer to grab hold of my thoughts and initiate a plan.
I’ll nurse my hungover sisters back to health and then break the news that I won’t be going to the rodeo tomorrow.
That’s a solid plan.
It’s still dark outside, and I make it to the lodge in time for the staff morning meeting.
I could’ve sat it out, and the second, my mama leads us in the traditional lodge song, I sure wish I had.
As everyone scatters to their tasks, my mama matches my pace, walking alongside me through the lodge corridors on my way to my office.
“I didn’t expect to see you here so early.” Wispy bangs peek out beneath her bold red Stetson, and her shoulder-length hair frames her face.
She’s got that friendly, approachable vibe about her, which is the opposite of me.
“Why wouldn’t I be here early?”
“Y’all rolled in pretty late.” My mama smiles at a staff member who greets her by name. “But you sure came in with big smiles on your face. Even you. Did you enjoy yourself?”
Big smiles because Hart went and got himself arrested. It was the perfect ending to a decent night. It would’ve been better if Vin had joined him in the next cell, but the bikers took off when the sheriff arrived.
“It was fine.”
“Fine or fun?”
“It had its moments.”
Like when Hart got hauled off. Karma at its best after he exposed the truth behind my bucket list.
Asshole—whom I’m finished thinking about.
“Like when the sheriff showed up?” My mama slides me a knowing look.
“Who told you, Hope? Us? Or gossip?”
“All three.
I groan. “How is it already circulating?”
“The sun’s up, sweetheart. It’ll be making rounds as we speak.”
“Nash always has to arrest someone, so I guess you should be grateful it wasn’t any of us.” I open my office door.
“Jade?”
“Yeah?” I glance back at her.
“Glad you changed your mind about going to the rodeo. Your fine will surely be turned into fun.”
“No, I—” She doesn’t let me get another word out.
“Don’t worry, I have everything here covered.” She presses forward without letting me reply. “Don’t forget to pack your bags tonight.”
She continues with a list of things to tell my sisters when they finally wake up.
The impulse to slam my office door is strong, but I resist it.
Last night was a mistake, a shit show. And the idea of going to the rodeo eats at me all damn morning. Just lingers in my head, teasing and taunting.
After lunch, I can’t handle it anymore and head to the central kitchen. It still smells of bacon, bread, and syrup with a hint of chorizo and warm tortillas.
“Morning, Louise,” I say.
The head chef outlines the supper menu with the kitchen staff while the cleaning crew gets started on the deep clean before supper.
She smiles at me. “Good morning, Miss Jade.”
I haven’t even ridden Onyx yet, so I’m not sure how good a morning it actually is.
“Is there something I can help you with? Leftovers?” The sleeves of her crisp, white chef coat are speckled with flour.
“I’m just going to grab a few things for my sisters, if that’s alright.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
I weave around the cleanup crew, collecting the supplies I need for a hangover tray of life-savers.
I set all the ingredients out before starting the herbal iced tea.
As I’m filling the kettle, a shriek of a ringtone I would never use on my cell phone makes me jump and slosh the water over the kettle.
Josie! She’s constantly changing my ringtone.
The piercing ring in my back pocket continues.
I feel the eyes of the staff heavy on my back, so I tell Siri to answer it.
“If this ain’t a fire, I’m hanging up.” I set the kettle on the stove and flip on the burner.
“Oh, honey, we heard there was a fire.” The old timber of Wilma’s stern voice drills straight behind my eyes, right where that headache has been threatening all morning.
“A romantic fire,” Faye’s squeal pierces deeper.
Oh, Lord, there are two of them. And I’m highly aware there’s also a room full of staff within hearing distance.
Why didn’t I ignore the call?
Or check the caller ID?
Both at this point.
Why didn’t I do both?
I know why. I’m in the middle of a commercial kitchen, and I’m unable to touch my phone while preparing food.
“That’s how the brawl started last night in front of Bucky’s. From a burning flame of love.” Faye drops her tone to a rich seduction.
Lord, make it stop.
“I’m at the Lodge.” The words come out quickly and ting with panic. “And you’re on speaker, ladies.”
I pull a couple of lemons from the fruit bowl and grab a small paring knife.
“Heard all about the throwdown.” Faye’s voice floats, light like it’s spun from clouds. “The dusty cowboy showdown of the decade.”
I groan.
Did I expect them to catch my meaning? To respect my location? I’m one word away from hanging up.
I set a cutting board on the counter and slice through the first lemon. The bright citrus scent fills my nostrils.
“Don’t you be groanin’,” Wilma snips. “We all know why Hart and his brothers went full Wild West on Main Street. Beer bottles smashed, garbage cans were knocked over, tires screechin’, and a Harley ended up in the town flowerbed.”
“Because they’re idiots.” I drop the thin slices into a tall glass jug and add a generous handful of ice before heading to the filtered water from the fridge.
“Idiot in love.” Faye made the word singular to pinpoint one specific brother.
“Let me stop you right there.” I see the staff’s heads tilting, the curiosity, waiting for the juice gossip. “Those men take any opportunity to fight.”
“Now don’t go pretendin’ you don’t know.” Wilma’s gravelly voice is sharper when it’s coming through the phone. “You know that boy doesn’t throw hands and catch charges for just anyone.”
Please don’t say it.
Not my name.
Not his name.
Not together in a sentence that could be misconstrued. Rumors can last for years in this town. Trust me, I’ve started enough to know.
“We plan to visit him in the clink this morning.” Faye’s honeyed tone sounds like she’s stepped right out of an old black-and-white western film.
The clink? Seriously?
I disappear into the pantry for chamomile and ginger tea bags. The herbs are gentle on the stomach, good for headaches, and are precisely what a hangover begs for.
I also appreciate the privacy.
“That’s nice of you both. I am working, so if that’s everything—”
“Sammy tried to talk Nash out of it.” Wilma’s on my last shred of patience. “He was taking one or all. Public intoxication. Disorderly conduct. Assault. So Hart offered to sleep it off in a cell. Claims he initiated the fight.”
I was there, listening from the sidelines. I know what happened. Not much more than macho nonsense and too many beers. He wasn’t even part of the scuffle with the biker earlier, so I have no idea why he ran out there throwing punches after it had already been dealt with.
Hothead.
“We are waiting for Molly to get there and grant us access to visit Hart, and I’ll tell you, that boy will have fire in his eyes and your name on his breath.” There goes Faye, her voice rolling in like a warm breeze through a dusty canyon.
“I’d bet money it will be to curse me out.”
Like I curse out the kettle when it whistles, demanding I return to the staff whose ears are all too eager to listen.
“Ladies, I have to go. Have a good day. Bye.”
I rush back into the kitchen and take the kettle off the burner. I drop the handful of tea bags in a jug and put half a dozen slices of bread in the conveyor toaster. Just as I pour the steaming water into the waiting jug, Wilma’s voice breaks the silence.
“Hart Wilde protected your reputation in that bar fight.” Her steel-edged voice pierces the room. “That’s practically a proposal ‘round here.”
My heart stops beating. I swear the silence that follows could strike me dead. I wish it would.
“Ladies...”
“And the poor boy ended up behind bars,” Faye takes over. “Lookin’ like a rugged cowboy cover model with just the right amount of stubble and sin.”
The sight of Hart in jail lookin’ like stubble and sin, slams into the forefront of my mind in ways I don’t like.
It’s that damn nightmare.
“Siri, end call,” I snap over my shoulder, regretting not grabbing the supplies and running to the staff kitchen.
Siri tells me she didn’t quite catch that.
“With that bad-boy pout and everythin’. Like Johnny Cash in county lock-up.” If Faye breaks into song, I’m going to lose it.
“Siri, hang up.”
“Can you say that again?” she replies.
“Black eye, busted lip, and a righteous cause,” Wilma adds.
“Or like he just stepped out of one of Lena’s southern romance novels titled ‘For Love and Handcuffs’.” Faye does enjoy the local romance authors’ spicy books.
“Siri, end call now!”
“Sorry, something went wrong,” she replies.
“And we printed out his picture from the jail roster. His mugshot has smolder.” Faye’s voice has smolder.
“He’ll be released this morning, so what are you gonna do, Jade?” Wilma asks. “Go visit him? Take him a casserole?”
“Stand outside his place in a sundress with one hand on your heart?” Faye throws in, of course, because she does.
I feel the color rise from my neck to my face. “No. I’m not going to do any of that.”
“We thought you might say that. So we made a casserole for you to take him.” Wilma delivers it as a directive, not a suggestion.
“I’m not taking him a casserole.”
“Maybe you could declare your love at the same time.” Faye’s pushing boundaries.
“Oh my lord.” I snatch the phone from my back pocket. “Have you ladies met him? He’s not the kind of man who sleeps in the same saddle twice!” I don’t realize I’m shouting until all eyes are on me.
Shit.
The hush that follows feels louder than the shouting.