Chapter 25 Big Ol’ Grizzly Bear
HART
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I’M GONNA KILL him.
I’m gonna chop off every last one of Bronx’s limbs and scatter them across seven states.
“You alright there, trouble?” He smiles at Jade, steadying her in his arms like a damn hero.
The way he looks at her—like catching her caught him off guard, but now that it’s happened, he’s not sorry—he welcomes the moment.
It stings to watch, like a blade beneath my skin.
I clutch the axe in my hand so tight the rough grain carves into my skin, splinters biting in, but I don’t care.
“Tripped on the stupid step.” I hate the way she doesn’t even look around for me.
She never misses a chance to glare at me, often paired with a soft, barely audible snicker. This new quiet from her doesn’t sit right with me.
Actually, I fucking hate it.
“Lucky I was here.” He still holds her like she’s breakable.
His big hands are in places they shouldn’t be. Clasping her bare legs, gripping her so close to her breast, imma ‘bout ready to lose it.
Fuck his easy grin and that damn cowboy conceit dripping off him like he bathes in Marlboro commercials.
“Could’ve hit that pretty face.”
I almost throw the axe at him. Instead, I lift it and bring it down with a crack, splintering the wood clean.
It doesn’t make me feel better.
Shit.
It hadn’t been working before this little display either.
I push my sleeves higher up my arms, flannel damp with sweat.
“Thanks for catching me.” She’s a little breathless, and her hand stays on his chest too long.
I see it.
Bronx sees it.
Hell, the whole damn campground fucking sees it.
And he loves it. Soaks it in like a cactus hitting its first rain in six months, but we all know Bronx isn’t dry. Bronx never dries up. He drinks in women as if they’re the only thing that can quench him.
I bring the axe down again, harder this time. A chunk of wood flies hitting the dirt by Bronx’s feet.
He doesn’t look up.
Doesn’t say anything.
“Always happy to catch a lady.” He winks.
I heft the axe again—another log splits. I toss the pieces roughly into the pile at the end of our trailer.
Josie skips down the stairs. “Hands off her, Ogre. She’s not some prize to be manhandled.”
I agree.
A grin spreads across Bronx’s face. “Jealous, I’m stealing your big sister’s attention?”
Josie’s face scrunches in disgust like she’s just tasted something rancid.
Bronx is all kinds of rancid.
“I’m not jealous of anything those too-friendly fingers touch.”
“She’s in good hands.” His smugness is palpable, and it’s almost like he’s begging for someone to knock him down a peg.
My axe pauses mid-air. “Put her down.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
I didn’t allow it.
I didn’t want to say it.
It’s none of my damn business.
Now all eyes are on me.
I know it.
I feel it.
Because they all think I have a thing for her—because I fucking do have a thing for her. Have since the first time I saw her, really saw her.
And it wasn’t the first time I caught a glimpse of her sneaking toward the events storage room after I’d finished practice and saw her. That had been more intrigue than anything.
Why had she been nervously looking around before quietly slipping inside?
Why’d she go in there all alone?
What had she been doing?
My curiosity had sparked, and I’d followed her in. Not because I couldn’t take my eyes off her, that didn’t come until later. And by then, it was too late.
“Sure thing, big guy. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your big feelings.” Bronx’s smirk deepens, eyes glinting with a playful challenge.
With a self-assured motion, he sets her down, his eyes daring me not to look away.
The subtle composure in his gesture is both a tease and a warning, making it clear he isn’t about to back down without a bit of showmanship.
I’m not about to get into a pissing contest over her.
So why the hell do I end up changing into clean clothes and tagging along to the bar with them like a lost puppy?
Because I’ll be damned if I let him think he has free rein. Maybe I’m fooling myself, thinking I can keep an eye on the situation and walk away unscathed.
Dean bumps my side. “You alright?”
The group is ahead of us, laughing and joking, their voices carrying in the warm evening air as we make our way from the campsite toward the town bar.
“Fine.” It’s rough and growly, the exact opposite of my claim.
I can’t peel my eyes off Jade, all sun-kissed skin and curves wrapped in that sage green dress that dances around her legs with every step.
Not that I’m paying attention.
Oh fuck, I’m not even kidding myself anymore.
I am paying attention.
I never stopped.
I noticed how it dips low in front and nearly made me forget how to breathe. I noticed her cinched waist and the slit, high enough to tempt the devil himself.
“You’re the opposite of fine.”
“Piss off.”
“You’re actin’ like a big ol’ grizzly bear watchin’ his cub get snatched up by a wolf.”
I don’t look at him. Leave it to Dean to try to get under my skin. He prides himself when dancing on other people’s nerves.
“Come on, man. You were lookin’ at Bronx like you wanted to throw your hatchet at him or chop off his head.”
I can’t be mad at him for that assumption, considering that’s exactly what I’d been thinking.
Maybe a little more gory.
“He’s a slimy bastard.”
Dean chuckles.
“She’s not his type,” I say.
“And how do you know that?”
“Everyone knows. You know it. You were an asshole like him before Harper, always searching for the next peak to conquer.”
He presses a hand to his chest. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”
“Tell me she’s that type. Tell me she’s the type you and Bronx would pick up on those nights at the bar. She’d slide under the covers with you, just like that, no strings.” I pause, looking at him. “Come on. Tell me.”
He says nothing.
“Exactly.”
“I know whose type she is, but then, so do you.” He claps my shoulder before taking off to whip his woman into his arms and swing her in a circle.
They end up behind us, making out in the middle of the damn street.
I grit my teeth for the rest of the walk.
Their voices blur into the background, but every so often, a word cuts through. The women are excited about riding the mechanical bull. The guys are still competing over the best meat. Ogre is tossed into the conversation here and there and asshole is a steady favorite.
But the main attraction is the bucket list and I’m just damn grateful they left it at the campsite. I’ve had enough of everyone scrutinizing something I once believed was sacred.
The bar’s alive with energy. Country music thumps in the background, and it reeks of whiskey and sweat, thick enough to choke you. The neon lights above the mechanical bull flicker. Just the kind of bar to have a good time.
“Drinks first?” Dean shouts over the pounding bass just right, like he’s done this a hundred times before.
We all know he has.
“We’ll find a table.” Harper kisses him.
But it doesn’t end in a kiss. He cups her ass cheeks and drags her against him for a mouthful none of us need to see.
Apparently, the guys agree.
“C’mon, stud.” Bronx grabs his shoulders and pulls him away. “You two already christened the bus. Let’s keep it PG here.”
He wouldn’t know PG if it punched him in the face.
“You’re just jealous.” Dean doesn’t let go of his gal’s hand until he can’t reach her anymore.
“You two are so gross.” Josie’s already carving a path, head high, the others falling in behind. “I love it. I’ll take a Sangria.”
“Are you even old enough to drink?” Bronx’s voice is dry with the kind of tease that doesn’t invite closeness.
Every woman is a conquest to him, but with Josie, he’s oddly distant, like he can’t be bothered to play the game.
She flips him both middle fingers, walking backward.
“I’ll order for us.” Celi walks with us while the women veer toward the tables closest to the mechanical bull.
The place is packed, and the bartender’s moving at breakneck speed, expertly managing multiple drink orders at once.
Celi pushes between two men and taps the counter. “Hey, man, we’ve got ten orders coming in hot,” she shouts over the noise.
The bartender doesn’t look up but throws a thumb in the air. “Yeah, yeah. Got it.”
“That’s our girl,” Bronx says, leaning over her shoulder to slap a bill on the counter.
He grabs her shoulders and kisses the side of her head before stepping aside so the rest of us can add to the money pool.
“You think you own all the girls?” My voice is tight, cutting through the rowdy energy of the bar as I toss slap bills on the counter.
Bronx chuckles, but there’s something too smooth in his smile. “I’m not goin’ to touch your woman.”
He already did.
“I don’t have a woman.” My reply is too fast.
I see Celi flinch, just slightly—barely noticeable, but I catch it.
Bronx eyes me for a second, then shrugs. “Hey, no harm meant. I know the game.”
“There’s no game,” I grit out.
He lifts his hands, as if to show me he’s not trying to start anything. “I wasn’t hitting on Jade, and I don’t hit on every girl I see.”
Dean snorts. “Yes, you do. You make it a damn hobby. And it doesn’t matter whether she’s already taken.”
Why am I not surprised?
Dean elbows me. “Better keep an eye on her ‘cause he’ll swoop in at any indication and, you know—” He trails off, like we’re supposed to finish what he’s not saying.
“You know what?” Levi asks.
And I’m still pissed at this brother for blabbing my ant situation to everyone.
Dean thrusts his groin at his hands, framing what appears to be a pair of lady’s hips. “You know—”
“What the fuck is happening?” Bronx chokes on a laugh. “Just say it.”
“Listen,”—Dean leans in—“sometimes I wanna be respectful of Harper. I can’t just be over here talking about fucking all the time. You know, unless it’s about me and Harper and like christening the shower earlier.”
“Bro, I don’t think she wants you to tell people that.” Levi digs his fingers into his closed eyelids.