Chapter 23 Lasso and Capture
HART
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“SHIT.”
That’s all I can manage. Just...shit.
The word hangs in the air like smoke after a gunshot.
“Sorry ‘bout the outburst.” Dean tosses a pack of jerky between his hands. “He only screams like that when he’s hungry. You should see him at family dinners.” He shakes out a tent side and fastens it to give us privacy.
I’m grateful.
“Listen, Hart,” Levi starts. “We just thought if you and Jade got together alone—”
“We’re not you and Hope,” I hiss, hunching into a bin. “Stop treating us like we are.” Even as I say the words, I taste their deception, and jealousy snakes through me.
I push it down. I push it so deep down, my insides hurt. I won’t—can’t—go there. It’s too late.
“Sorry, man. Our bad.” Now Levi is sincere, but it doesn’t stop the anger pulsing through me.
I’m livid for the entire afternoon and well into the evening. Livid at my brother’s for stranding me alone with her and livid at her for exposing something I believe is pretty damn personal.
When we finish the booth, I hang back and let my brother drive the bus to the campsite before the deadline.
I’m exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.
I need space.
I need quiet.
I need to pull myself the fuck together.
Hours pass before I get to the campsite. The rich, smoky scent of a barbecue fills the air.
Everyone is participating in supper, setting picnic tables, grilling meat, and making side dishes.
I think I’ve calmed down, then I spot her off to the side talking to Bronx, and just like that, my so-called civility is out the bloody door.
I walk up fast, heat rolling through me, hands balled into fists.
“Really?” I bite out.
Bronx takes a step back. “Whoa, cowboy, you’re gonna spook the herd if you keep stompin’ like that.”
I glare at him, a silent, get the fuck out of here.
He crosses his thick arms over his chest like he’s challenging me. “No need to charge in here, guns blazing. This is a barbecue, not a bar brawl.”
Jade touches his arm. “It’s fine.”
What the hell is Jade doing, touching his arm?
Bronx drops his defensive arms. “If your jaw clenches any harder, it’s gonna crack.”
He walks away.
“How are you feeling?” Her question is simple, but something about it throws me.
No sharpness.
No bait.
Just her, standing here, calm and unbothered.
“You told everyone about my ditch dive, the fire ants, and my pants around my ankles.”
I brace myself for the flicker in her eyes, the charge behind them, and the claws she’s always ready to sink into me. It’s the only language we have.
It doesn’t come.
She looks at me, but it’s calm and clear-eyed.
“I didn’t tell everyone.” Her voice is low and steady. “It’s not exactly a campfire story.”
I’m thrown off by how measured she sounds, like there’s no fight in her.
“I told Levi,” she continues. “I was worried. You were alone, and the whole fire ants ordeal was a lot.”
My mouth opens.
Nothing comes out.
“You don’t want people to know? Take that up with your brother. Not me.” She sets the handful of plastic cutlery on the table. “I hope you’re feeling better.” She strolls away with a casualness I’m not accustomed to.
No storming off.
No staying to win.
No pushback. No circling me like. Just, done.
I turn and watch her as she walks to the table where her sisters are cutting veggies for a salad. They pull her into their laughter so easily, I almost don’t recognize her.
The dipping sunlight catches in her hair, her smile—her genuine smile.
I’m further confused when she doesn’t try to steal a glance at me or flip me the middle finger. It’s like she’s completely forgotten I’m even here.
Is this what happens to a woman when you make her feel like nothing more than a fleeting moment?
I don’t like it.
Dean tosses me a container of spice. “You need to help me cook my steak. Bronx had a head start ‘cause he’s been here all fucking day. And he’s being a dick about making the best T-bone. We all know I’m the master of the grill.”
I’m not interested in my brother’s cutthroat competition for grilling supremacy, but I’m also not opposed to competing with Bronx.
“I’m in.”
“Yeah, you are.” Without missing a beat, he bumps his hip into mine, grinning like he just scored the winning point. “You’re going down, Bronx.” He whistles. “Where’s my woman?”
I hit the bottle of spice against his chest. “I can’t believe you just whistled to her like she’s your pet.”
“We save that for behind closed doors.” The spice bottle flies back at me.
And they’re all calling me the kinky pervert.
The hissing and popping of fat from the steaks hitting the flames is a good distraction. I’ll admit, my brother’s competitive side brings out the competitive side in me. And kicking Bronx’s ass is enjoyable. I even smile a few times and throw in a couple of dry jokes.
But it’s not long, and everyone is gathered at a couple of weather-beaten picnic tables pushed together with paper plates, and laughter echoing off the nearby pines.
Josie cranks up a Bluetooth speaker, and the twang of country music drifts through the fading light.
By the time Dean slides the last platter of meat onto the table, everyone has their fixings ready. Condiments, pickles, salad, veggies, and bags of chips litter the surface in a potluck offering.
Jade sits on the far end, involved in the argument between Bronx and Dean, who bicker about the quality of the steak and whose was better.
I barely taste the flavor.
The minute I’m in these close quarters, I wait for Jade’s familiar reaction.
A glare.
A snarl.
She’s too busy debating meat, and not my meat. Not that that’s even up for debate. Or conversation.
Fuck.
After dinner, we stay put. Plates pushed aside, drinks in hand, and the kind of slow, restful peace after everyone’s full.
Fireflies blink in the tall grass, and Levi catches one in a jar for Hope. Hopeless romantics. Josie passes around a bag of marshmallows, even though no one’s in the mood to roast them.
She drops a handful of marshmallows into her drink. “Alright. Who has the bucket list?”
What does she mean, who has the bucket list? Jade should have the bucket list.
“I got it.” Bronx’s arm shoots up in the air, and I see red.
Bright. Fucking. Red.
What the hell is he doing with our bucket list?
My gaze slides to Jade, but she doesn’t meet my eyes with a spark of triumph, satisfaction, and victory at knowing the thought of him holding it drives me mad. It’s as if my presence doesn’t even register.
I shift in my seat and drink my beer, wishing I had something stronger.
“Let’s figure out what to do tonight.” Josie tries to snatch the book from Bronx, but he holds tight.
“Alright, there, kid. Settle down.” Could his tone be any more condescending?
She should slap him. I’d watch that.
Josie stops dead in her tracks. The glare she sends him is deadly. I’d bet money mine is a close second. At least someone is on my side.
“Kid?” Her hands land on her hips. “Did you just call me a kid?”
“Don’t throw a temper tantrum.” The corners of his mouth flick up into a patronizing smile.
“I’m actually gonna stab you in your sleep.” She grabs for the book again, gripping it harder this time.
His grip stays firm, and one quick tug sends her off balance, falling right into his chest.
Is this his game? Taunt and tease them and then bang them? I’d say yes, but I’ve seen him flirt his way into a woman’s pants, and he’s all about compliments and sweet talk. This is different.
“Easy.” His voice is low, syrupy with mock kindness.
“You’re a piece of work.” She shoves off him, but he ruffles her hair with a grin.
“Only the finest craftsmanship.” His fingers linger for a second too long, but the playful gesture looks more like a brotherly annoyance than anything else.
“Looks like they ran out of the best parts.” She bats his hand away, brushing her hair back in annoyance, then grabs the book from him.
I’m surprised at how invested everyone is in our bucket list: her sisters, my brothers—Bronx.
Would they be as interested if they realized it was half mine?
Josie flips to a random page and holds it up. “Today’s clue is a cow. And, I guess that’s a person? Riding it?”
Wrong.
“Easy.” A slow grin tugs Bronx’s lips as a toothpick shifts between his teeth. “Mechanical bull.”
Wrong.
“I see it.” Harper brushes crumbs off the table.
Dean’s arms circle her waist, pulling her back against his chest as he rests his head on her shoulder.
“It has the whole ‘hold on or die’ vibe,” he says.
Farthest thing from it.
Josie taps her finger on the sketch. “That doesn’t make sense. Mechanical bulls aren’t new to Jade.”
Her sister gets points for knowing her.
I watch Jade’s fingers trace the edge of the glass as her eyes move across the group, taking in the banter. Her gaze even sweeps over mine, but it doesn’t linger, and it’s not charged with anger.
What is this?
“She’s wearing a dress,” Daisy flips a beer cap in the air, catching it and repeating the action.
I don’t have to see the page to know the dress is sky blue, like a cloudless day. But the gingham pattern on the dress is significant. It represents a picnic blanket.
“Riding a mechanical bull wearing a dress, commando.” Dean tilts his head to Jade. “Kinky.”
The women collectively shudder, exchanging glances twisted in repulsion as they list off all the reasons why that’s a bad idea.
“Gross.”
“Imagine the germs.”
“The sweat soaked into that thing.”
“It sounds more like a dare than a bucket wish.”
Dean tilts his head on Harper’s shoulder to look at her. “You ready to ride a bull?”
She kisses his chin, the most accessible part of his face, with his head resting on her shoulder. “I only have one cowboy I want to ride.”
His hand cups the back of her neck, turning her toward him and pressing a kiss meant for the bedroom.
The objections come fast and furious.
“That’s a little much!”
“Get a room!”
“But not in the bus!”
“Or our shower!”
“Fuck off.” Dean stands, pulling Harper to her feet with him. “We’re going to get ready to hit the bar.”
“No consummating in the bus,” Levi repeats, but Dean’s leading her straight to our bus. “Hope and I have dibs on the bedroom!”
The door slams shut behind them.
Levi curses.
“It’s gonna smell like sex in there.” A low chuckle escapes Bronx, and he gives her a sidelong glance, clearly impressed.
Josie taps the book. “Back to today’s puzzle. Bucking a mechanical bull in a dress. Any other thoughts?”
“A picnic in the open countryside, surrounded by cattle on a warm summer day filled with clouds to name, and an evening of making out under the stars. More specifically, lasso and capture. One person uses a lasso on the other, playing up the idea of taming, tying them up in a playful yet dominant way.”
I don’t mean to say it out loud.
I don’t want any part of this game.
When I register what I’ve said and that all eyes are on me, it hits me hard.
Shit.
But it’s Jade’s gaze that really strikes hard. Did she think I forgot? The look across her face suggests so.
“Wow, you really are kinky,” Josie says.
Jade’s eyes slide away from me, narrowing in a glare at her sister. For the first time in over ten years, I feel something precious slipping beyond my reach.
“How the fuck do you get that, man?” Bronx has the book again. “There ain’t no way.” He turns the book upside down, then sideways. “No way.”
“It doesn’t mean ride a fucking mechanical bull in a dress.” I don’t know why I’m getting involved, and why I’m doing it so aggressively. “Have any of you met Jade? She doesn’t wear dresses.”
“She’s wearing a dress here.” Bronx taps out book, and he’s lucky I don’t leap across this table and tackle him.
“Nope, it ain’t no picnic.” Bronx tosses the book on the table.
It lands open to the exact page. I swear it’s just staring at me, teasing me, and baiting me.
Bronx smirks at me. “But I like the way you think. I’m gonna tuck that away for another time.”
My hands fist. He better fucking not. And he better fucking not with Jade.
“Maybe the swirling dress means dancing,” Hannah suggests. “Like a night of dancing and riding a mechanical bar. She was young, so it could be some fantasy to go to a bar before she was legally of age.”
“Let’s vote.” Josie collects the book and stands on the bench of the picnic table.
“Watch it, kid.” Bronx crosses his arms over his front and leans back. “You don’t want to fall off and break that little neck of yours.”
She points the book at him. “You, fuck off. Everyone else, who thinks it’s a night of dominating picnic in the middle of nowhere? Show of hands.”
Bronx slides his arm in the air.
“You would,” Josie mutters.
“Or, a wild night at the bar, dancing and riding a mechanical bull? Show of hands.”
All hands go up.
Josie makes a drum sound on the picnic table. “And, the final say is...” She swings her arms to Jade, and we all wait for her to tell us exactly what the pages mean.
This oughtta be rich.