Chapter 17
HART
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“WHAT THE HELL?” I squint through the windshield as the road stretches ahead.
Out of nowhere, the Foxes RV takes a hard left.
No warning.
No signal.
Just swerves.
“Wrong turn,” I mutter to myself as I crank the wheel.
It’s fast, rough, and off the route we agreed to take before heading out.
“You tryin’ to flip this thing?” Dean is already half-drunk on beef jerky, sprawled across the passenger’s seat, bitchin’ about his woman riding with the women.
The whole RV smells like a meat locker on wheels, salty, smoky, and a little bit sweet all at once.
“They turned too damn quick,” I snarl.
She turned too damn quick.
Jade.
The further we drive, the more I regret the decision to tag along.
But how am I going to stop her from doing the list with Bronx?
I can’t step in and offer myself. I can’t sit on the Ferris wheel and make her writhe under my touch.
Of all the guys in town, she landed on this one? He’s the biggest pussy hound this side of the county. Jade deserves better.
“This is not the route.” I’m definitely grumbling to myself, because Dean’s lost in his own thoughts.
“I was really countin’ on gettin’ some action on this moving bus.” The sound of him chomping on that jerky, like a woodpecker hammering a tree, is irritating the shit out of me. “I love a road bang in a moving vehicle.”
I shift gears smoothly, and the engine hums a deep, steady thrum I can feel through the wheel.
“You aren’t having one in here,” Levi shouts from one of the leather seats in the back area.
My folks’ bus is all dark walnut wood, black steel accents, and leather.
In the back bedroom is a king-sized bed with metal framing, while the kitchenette features sleek granite and metal appliances.
Industrial light fixtures hang overhead, and the whole space feels like a luxury garage meets a high-end hunting lodge.
They still attend Sterling and Sammy’s rodeo competitions in this beast, so it’s well-maintained.
“It’s on my bucket list, though,” Dean yells back, his voice grating on my ears.
“Don’t care,” Levi says. “That’s why you two are sleeping in a tent. No one wants to listen to that.”
“You’re just jealous ‘cause your wife is pregnant and you’re not getting any.” Dean rips into a fresh bag of jerky—Jalapeno Honey BBQ.
That spicy honey smell makes his mouth water, despite myself.
“Trust me, I ain’t jealous.” A short, amused huff slips past Levi. “Hope’s got the hunger. Her hormones are running rampant. We’ve had to get really inventive in finding positions that work.”
Dean’s silence is a rare moment.
I appreciate it.
I wish it would last.
Then Dean asks, “What kind of positions?”
I swear his mind is one big adult film on loop.
“I ain’t pitchin’ my tent anywhere near yours.” Bronx rests a bottle of water over my shoulder. “Drink?”
Did he douse himself in cologne this morning? Trying a little too hard, maybe? To impress who is the big question?
“No thanks.” My teeth grind.
He twists off the cap with a faint snap. “The last thing I need is your moaning in the background when I’m coming back with a ten.” He sips the drink with an obnoxious slurp, way too close to my ear.
“In that case, you’d better pitch your tent on the far side of our site, because I’ll be moaning.” Dean kicks up his legs, propping them on the dash, crossing his ankles. “Moanin’ and screamin’ and gruntin’. I don’t hold back when I’m caught in the throes of passion.”
“No one cares.” I slap his leg. “Get your damn feet down.”
“Oh, relax.” He leaves them there.
Relax?
I can feel my blood pressure rising, but it’s nothing to do with my idiot brother.
This isn’t just one wrong turn. We’re way off track. Jade is messing with me. The detours aren’t mistakes; they’re her silent punches. We’re miles past the route, and she’s loving every second of it. For a clipboard, agenda-following queen, she’s really branching out to piss me off.
I should’ve led the caravan, and I’m tempted to get back onto the correct route, with or without her RV, but I’d never hear the end of it from Levi since Hope is in theirs.
“Now, if you want to talk about Lapsnorkeling, I’ve got my count high.” Dean stretches proudly until the toe of his boots taps the windshield.
Coming from my brother, and its twisted name, this isn’t going to be about typical snorkeling.
“No one wants to talk about it.” I check the side mirrors, then my gaze returns to the road ahead.
The chrome accents framing the rear lights of their RV catch every ray of light and flash against my sunglasses.
“Not to be confused with The Snorkel.” Not surprised he doesn’t listen, and I’d still bet he’s not talking about a breathing tube.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only person in this RV.
“Lapsnorkeling?” Bronx drapes his arms over the top of my seat. “The Snorkel? Give me more.”
Was there ever a time when I liked this guy?
“Sittin’ on her face. One testie over each eye socket, and your dick in her mouth. Nice and deep. Looks like she’s wearing a snorkel and mask.”
In that moment, I forget all about Jade.
My gaze slides to my brother. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” My voice comes out slow and heavy as I try to process what I just heard.
“What?” Dean shrugs. “He asked.”
“I don’t know how you roped a woman like Harper into dating you. You’re a sex crazed lunatic, and she’s—”
“She’s my perfect match.” The only time Dean sounds sincere is when he talks about Harper. “I’ll tell you all my dark little secrets, what I like and what I don’t. But I won’t drag out Harper’s. But just you know, I take good fucking care of her. In bed and out of bed. She’s my everything, man.”
Sappy Dean is sacred and weird. Deep down, I know he treats her right. His actions speak volumes. But it’s his obnoxious mouth that makes him sound like a sex-crazed maniac.
“Back to Lapsnorkeling.” He says it too casually.
“Do we have to?” I drum my fingers on the leather steering wheel.
“It’s when she goes down on you in a moving vehicle.”
Bronx snorts. “We’ve all had plenty of lapsnorkeling or more recognized as roadhead.”
He can speak for his damn self.
“Nah, bro.” Dean shifts his torso to glance at Bronx. “Twist it up. Do it in the bed of a moving pickup truck while your brother is driving you home from a wicked St. Patrick’s Day bash.”
My fingers tighten around the wheel. “You better not be referring to last week when I picked you two up from Bucky’s.”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”
My poor truck.
“Tractor cab. Utility vehicle. Feed hauler. Be creative,” Dean continues.
“All those things are on the ranch,” I say, and then I hold up my hand. “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”
“You’re going to land in jail.” Bronx claps my brother’s shoulder in approval.
“Only if we get caught.” He’s grinning like a horny teenager.
Bronx laughs deep and loud. “When we hit a gas station or pull off for lunch, you should tick off Roadside Roastbeef from your bucket list.”
“Yeah, I should.” They fist bump.
Dipshits.
They should both be in jail.
Dean looks ahead at the RV rolling smoothly over the asphalt with a pout on his face. “And there goes my opportunity to tick sex in a moving vehicle off my bucket list.”
“That’s the third wrong turn they’ve taken today,” Wyatt says from the back.
My cousin has travelled this road many times since leaving Rocky Ridge six years ago. Wyatt Ashwood, I can handle. Not only is he blood, but he’s a good guy. His morals aren’t anything like Bronx’s.
My eyes concentrate on the back of the RV. A subtle exhaust puff escapes. Dust kicks up behind the rear tires. A pair of trailer hitch chains clang with every bump.
She’s really testing me or punishing me with the “Let’s make Hart lose his shit” route.
Just then, their RV takes a too-sharp left.
“Fucking hell!” I grip the wheel, press the brake, swerve, and slide straight past the road they tumble down—almost clipping the rear corner of their RV in the process.
“Shit,” Dean curses, straightening in his seat and sliding his feet off the dash. “Are you trying to kill us?”
I look in the rearview mirror, watching them drive away in a different direction.
“My pregnant wife is in that RV!” Levi’s boots stomp toward the front. “You gotta pay more fucking attention, Hart. You almost rear-ended them.”
I clench my jaw. “I was fucking watching. They turned without a blinker.”
The last thing I came on this trip for was to have Levi ride my ass.
No fucking thank you.
I’ve already had enough of him this year. Enough of his bragging about breaking up the feud. Enough of his overly happy attitude and always smiling. No one smiles that damn much.
“Don’t ride their ass.”
I slam the brakes. Tires scream, and the heavy frame shudders under the sudden stop.
I throw the RV into park, cut the engine, and swing my legs over the side of the chair, yanking off my seatbelt at the same time. “You wanna drive, big guy?”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Bronx presses his hands on Levi’s chest, pushing him toward the back of the RV. “You stay back there. Hart’s driving. It’s all good, man.”
“I’m still hungry.” Dean climbs out of his seat, and Bronx plops down beside me.
Seriously?
“Bro, it’s fine. Chill,” he tells me, like I’m a bloody child. “You’re wound up tighter than a pastor at a poker night. They’re probably just lettin’ loose and having a little adventure.”
I consider my options: Levi pounding into me or sitting beside Bronx. It’s like choosing between a migraine and a pop concert.
“Adventure my ass.” I twist the key, and the engine growls awake.
The ground crunches under the tires as I put it into gear. I ease forward for a place to turn around. I eye the roadside, narrow ditches, scrub brush. There’s no room even to breathe, let alone get this thing turned around.
“This is how people end up in the middle of nowhere.” I spot a patch of gravel wide enough to pull the bus off the road.
“Lemme text ‘em real quick.” He pulls out his cell, and the screen glows to life.
The spot is tight. I stop, shift into reverse, and check the mirrors.
“Let’s see what flavor of antics they’ve got planned.” His phone clicks steadily while he punches out a message.
Slowly, I back the bus into the space, the back swinging wide, and scraping close to a low branch, but I keep steady.
“Who are you texting?” I exhale through my nose, irritated that I’m even asking, but trying not to show it.
Does he have Jade’s number? If so, did he get it last night? Or has he had it longer? How long? Is there more going on between them than I think?
“Celi.” His fingers tap out a flurry of words.
My mind unclenches. It makes sense. Celi is Daisy’s sister. Bronx is tight with Daisy and the rest of the Bunkhouse Boys.
How tight though?
Sex tight?
Is she the one he was buying the condoms for? It’s a wonder I got a wink of sleep last night.
Inch by inch, I guide the vehicle into the spot until I’m fully in. Then I shift gears and pull forward.
“It’s not going through,” he says. “Sketchy service.”
Back on the road, we’re pointed the right way—sort of. I sit still for a second, engine humming low, then hit the gas. Now I have to chase down the women.
Is this payback for yesterday’s horse chase?
I almost chuckle.
“Oh well. I’ll try again in a bit,” he says.
“It’s not ‘oh well’.”
“You’re too by-the-book, my man.”
I ain’t his fucking man.
I flex my fingers off the wheel.
“Gotta say, road trips are way more fun when you’re chasin’ sharp turns and sharper women.”
I’d love to throw him out the passenger door. Let him eat dirt. Maybe roll once or twice if I were lucky. Too bad making this right won’t do the job.
As I come around the corner, no RV. She didn’t wait. I bury the pedal.
Bronx slinks into the seat, trading his water for his own thermos. “I gotta say, those cutoffs Jade was wearing. Whoo. Dangerous. Like, damn.” He whistles.
I don’t blink.
Don’t look at him.
Just keep driving.
“So, you and her? Anything going on there, or is she still, y’know?”
“There’s always something going on,” Levi says, like he has a clue.
“Nothing is going on,” I grit.
Levi doesn’t listen. “Keep your dick in your pants, Bronx. She’s off-limits.”
I’m glad someone told him. Not that she’s off limits for me. But she sure isn’t on limits for him.
“Good to know.” He laces his fingers behind his head. “Does she know that?” he comments with a smirk.
I stare ahead. My stomach’s knotted. I push the RV a little faster. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to keep Bronx from seeing me clench my jaw.
“Man, love me a good rodeo. Sun, beer, and legs for days.” Bronx lets out a low chuckle.
I grip the wheel tighter.
“I’ll tell you straight up, cowgirls.” A slow, dangerous smile follows his laugh. “There’s no question. And at a rodeo, even better.”
Where the hell did Dean go?
“Cowgirl wannabes. They know how to handle more than a saddle, if you know what I mean.”
I wish I didn’t.
“They leave you breathless and begging for a rematch.”
“You’re the one who needs to chill,” I snap.
Finally, I see the Fox RV. We’re slowly catching up.
He snorts. “You think I’m wrong? You just wait.”
I get a whiff of his drink. “Is that beer?”
He shrugs.
“It’s morning.”
“Only if I went to sleep last night, and we both know I had too many toys to sleep.”
I’m going to kill him by the end of the trip.
“Get the fuck in the back.” The last thing I need is getting pulled over and slapped with a misdemeanor for open alcohol, especially after spending last night locked up.
“Grumpy,” he mutters, rising. “Do us all a favor this week, Hart. Get laid.”
I catch up with the girls and pay better attention to Jade’s unhinged driving. I don’t need another lecture from Levi.
Bronx pulls his hat down over his eyes for a sleep. “Don’t lose them now that you have them.”
I’m not going to fucking lose them. He can just fuck right off. But damned if her next turn is in the opposite direction of where we need to go.