Chapter 47 Tally
TALLY
My ass stings as Rust carries me bridal-style out of the stable and sits me down on Yolanda’s open tailgate. He puts a warm beer in my one hand, a packet of sour gummy worms in the other, and I almost start to cry. It’s so sweet how well he knows me. How he cares for me.
Then he casually volunteers to bury Wolfe’s remains. Judging by his wide grin, I believe he found a new hobby: corpse disposal. But his sunny mood might also have to do with the world-rocking, soul-ascending, bone-liquefying sex we’ve had.
It was so good to stop thinking and just feel, to focus on the leather hitting my flesh. After the pain of the belting, my orgasm was more intense than I ever experienced. But now that the afterglow is fading, the severity of my situation is crashing down on me.
I knew Rex was an asshole, but I never thought he’d go this far.
He manipulated me from the start.
From the moment Rust broke up with me and Rex found me crying in the motel parking lot, he lied. All he saw in me was a golden goose. I’m sure that if I failed to write new music soon, he would simply discard me and make sure I never got work in the industry again.
But that’s not all. He had me humiliated. Had me drugged and gaslighted me about it. He wanted to kill Rust.
How fucking horrible can one man be?
“You holdin’ up alright?” Rust’s voice comes through the fog of anxiety.
He spreads my legs and steps between them. I put down the gummy worms and the beer to wrap my arms around his strong, warm body. Inhaling his scent, I relax a fraction. His closeness always calms me. It’s as if his embrace is my armor and when he holds me, nothing can hurt me.
“My ass smarts but it’s nice. Keeps me grounded,” I joke dryly.
“I meant more if you’re okay in here…” He taps my chest where my heart beats. “And in here.” He gently nudges my temple. “Cause you seemed a million miles away.”
I can’t help but smile. One look at Rust and a stranger would see a father’s nightmare and every daughter’s guaranteed heartbreak.
But under that smirk and the mischief in his eyes, hides the kindest, biggest heart of gold. Rust is the type of person to apologize if you bump into him and volunteer for a senior line dance group as eye candy.
He’s the take-you-home-to-momma type trapped in the unfairly handsome, muscular body of a blue-collar fuckboy.
He’s good. But not in a pushover kind of way.
Because there’s also something hard and unyielding inside him. Something made of steel and unshakeable confidence. The world could fall apart around him and he’d roll up his sleeves and put the pieces back together.
I love both of his sides. His vulnerable, gentle heart and his iron will wrapped in fierce protectiveness. Together, they make him the wonderful man I fell for.
I rub my tired eyes. “I don’t even know what I feel. Am I angry? Sad? Disappointed?”
“You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, Trouble. It’s okay to just let yourself go through those emotions without tryna rationalize ‘em.”
“But the concert is tomorrow! I gotta make a plan. I can’t run and hide forever—and it’s not like I want to. What I really want is revenge, but it’s…” I blow out a breath. “Overwhelming.”
Rust’s lips brush my forehead. “We’ll fix it together. We save each other, remember?”
I nuzzle my face into his chest. “Alright.”
He holds me, his voice vibrating through me. “I found a pickaxe in the heap of tools in the stable, but I’m gonna need a few hours to dig a hole for Wolfe. The ground is dry and tough as nails. You should wait here.”
Yawning, I stretch. “I’ll help with the digging.”
“No chance I’m lettin’ you sweat in the afternoon sun after everything you’ve been through. You rest. I got this handled, Trouble. I ain’t one of ‘em city boys just dressin’ the part of a real country man.” He winks and my cheeks burn.
“Fine,” I mumble.
“How ‘bout you have a little nap in the truck? When I get back, we’ll grab something to eat. Nobody ever made a solid plan for revenge on an empty stomach. Sounds good?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
Rust kisses me before he heads for the stable, whistling like he’s on vacation—not about to cover up a crime that could get us both sentenced to life for the second time in one week.
A dry laugh escapes me. What a track record.
I slide off the tailgate. Sluggishly, I trudge around Yolanda and climb into the cabin. Damn, I didn’t realize how exhausted I really am.
I lie down on the seat, tucking my arm under my head. As soon as I let go of the tension in my body, fatigue weighs me down and my eyes close.
I wake up in a panic. For a second, I don’t know where I am, but my pulse calms when I spot Rust by the weathered farmhouse, reaching for an old fashioned water hand pump.
If there was an official advert for getting a morally grey blue-collar husband, it would be a picture of Rust in his dusty, bloody jeans. Topless.
The glow of the orange sunset casts his long shadow on the parched earth.
His skin glistens with sweat and his tan has darkened from an afternoon in the sun.
Dirt streaks his face and chest like carefully placed arrows to accentuate his sharp jaw and toned abs.
It’s like they mean to say, ‘Touch here.’
The muscles in his forearms flex as he works the hand pump, each pull smooth and long. Water spills from the spout and he sticks his head under the flow. Glittering drops cling to his hair as he comes up, running in shimmering trails down his neck.
I watch him wash himself until he picks up his clothes and his cap from the ground. Grinning, he swaggers toward the truck and opens the door.
“Saw you starin’ at me’,” he drawls.
“Was not…” I mumble.
There shouldn’t be a reason for me to fluster—not after everything he’s done to me—but he’s too goddamn hot. It’s a chemical reaction in my brain I can’t stop.
Rust leans into the truck. His scent fills the air, the aroma of earth and clean sweat making my head spin. It’s raw and grounding, so alluring and honest. So him. Sexier than any cologne.
He laughs and droplets of water fly from his hair, hitting my bare arms. “I put on a show for my wife and it’d be a pity if she didn’t enjoy it.” He bites his lip, taking in my red face. “Did she?”
“Yeah,” I rasp, tongue-tied.
“You’re sayin’ there’s a chance I might get some sugar tonight?” His brows rise suggestively.
I burst out giggling. “Haven’t you had enough yet?”
“I never get enough of you, Trouble. But I still gotta change out of these blood-stained jeans and take care of the mess in the stable.”
“Right. What are we gonna do about Wolfe’s DNA spattered all over?”
“While I was diggin’, I had time to think about that problem. Nothing a little electrical fire can’t fix.”
My head cocks. “You’re really getting a taste for arson, huh?”
“That fusebox in the stable is ancient. Prone to accidental sparks, if you know what I mean. And I reckon whoever owns this place might be able to collect a nice insurance payout as a bonus.” Rust kisses me. “Be right back.”
He changes into clean clothes from his bag on the truck bed and waves before he jogs to the stable, disappearing inside.
Minutes later, smoke streams through the cracks in the walls. Like lightning, Rust shoots out of the building and toward the car, jumping into the driver’s seat. The motor howls as he guns it toward the main road.
In the rearview mirror, I watch fire licking at the roof of the stable.
Rust is the real life version of a man who’d burn the world for the one he loves. With him, I truly believe that everything is going to be okay, even if I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel just yet.