Chapter 12
Hadley
Yesterday has nothing on this morning. Happiness-studded green eyes meet mine as I wake. I roll over onto my back, remembering I’m naked.
Fuck.
Then I remember why I’m lying right in front of Maggie’s van door . . . After hearing three guys at the bar planning on how they were going to rock up to the hot little photographer’s van and show her a good time, I stalked my way back and planted myself at my post.
Small-town fuckers who hit the rodeo when it rolls around, thinking they’re tough guys because they wear boots and a cowboy hat for a night.
Fucking losers.
Rain—well, mist, really—seeps through the leafy canopy and falls over my face and chest. I groan, rubbing my face with my hands. “What time is it?”
“Time to get up. I brought you breakfast, bud.”
Bud.
Yeah, hell no.
After seeing her in the arena and the prime target of the bull I was just spurring into a frenzy, something literally snapped for me yesterday. I’ve only been in her orbit for twenty-four hours, and my life is already better for it.
Night and fucking day.
Like there is only before Maggie and after Maggie. And I want—no, I am desperate to stay put in the middle of those two. I can’t help the protective streak that’s flared to life along with it. But I’m not an idiot, I know this shit needs to take its time.
As far as I see it, we have another eight months, give or take, of this circuit and her contract. I’m not going to waste a second of it.
“You want to come inside?”
Her words snap me from my little TED Talk—topic, “The Epic Tale of Maggie I’ll clean it up.”
She brushes her fingers over my jaw. “Hadley . . .” Her hand comes away. Scrambled egg rests on her fingertips.
I chuckle and she rests back on her heels. “Thank you.”
My laughter peters out.
“What on earth for? Ruining breakfast or making a mess of your van?” A stone grows steadily in my throat as I take in her elegant angles, the depths of her green eyes. The way her cheekbones meet her temples awash in brown curls.
“Making me laugh.” She glances at the table with a cheeky expression.
And, damn.
Staring at me for a beat, her bottom lip is caught between her teeth.
Finally, she pushes to her feet and shifts the table away from this accident-prone cowboy.
I carefully rise and clean up the best I can.
Without making any more mess or running face-first into anything else in her tiny-ass van, I help her pack up.
The rain, or whatever the misty shit is, has cleared up by the time I fix my bedding and toss it into the van. Gear bag next, double-checking I didn’t miss anything last night. Learned that lesson the hard way, leaving my bull rope hanging on the side of a chute once . . . never to see it again.
The thought of losing the chaps the girls bought me—
“You ready?” Maggie chirps, leaning on the side of the van, arms crossed. Her sunglasses ride high in her hair, tight jeans and a pale blue T-shirt currently showcasing her perfect fucking tits pushed up and framed by her arms.
“Almost,” I rasp.
“Good. Did you find the part for your old truck?”
I stop mid-zipper on the gear bag.
Dammit.
I completely forgot. I stand and run a hand through my hair.
“I guess not, then?” She smiles.
“It’s not what you think. I fully intended to, I swear.”
I got sidetracked by the best ride of my career and then the trash talk at the bar that centered around her. How the hell could I forget my way home?
“Hadley, don’t stress, it’s fine. Besides”—she pushes from the van, grabbing my hat from the top of the vehicle and pushing it onto my head—“I like your company. So I’ll take it for as long as I can get it.”
Until the season ends.
A minuscule amount of time, in my opinion.
The VW starts with a rumble and I finish up, sliding the side door closed. I open the passenger door to find my aviators waiting on the dash, Maggie checking her phone.
Mine buzzes as I slide in and pluck my hat from my head, resting it on the seat between us. I slide the phone from my pocket.
A text from Kayley.
Saw your big ride last night, Hads. Well done brother of mine.
Thanks, Kales. On my way home.
Don’t text and drive Hadley Matthew Jones!!
Not drivin’ Kales. Maggie is.
Um . . . excuse me?
Long story, but she gave me a lift to the second event. Talk to you later.
Yes you will.
I click the phone off and slide the glasses on. I relax instantly, the bright morning sun rising higher and higher as we roll out along the highway.
“Family checking in?” Maggie nods to the phone.
“Yeah, just Kales.”
“Like the hearty dark-green vegetable?”
I chuckle. “Kayley.”
“Ah, of course.”
“Siblings?”
“Nope.”
“Parents?”
“Two.”
“One for me. Mom.”
“Oh . . .”
She doesn’t ask anything else, and I’m glad I don’t have to hash out all the ways my lousy father let us down. Save that gem for another day.
Hopefully.
The notion of finding all the ways to sabotage my own truck takes over.
I shake my head. I’m ridiculous.
“What’s going on over there?” Maggie waves a hand at me.
“Nothing, sorry.” I swallow.
She laughs. “Let me know if you or Irene need a pit stop.”
Excuse me, but who the fuck is Irene?
I slump in the seat and pluck up my hat from the dash and rest it over my face. I can’t screw it up if I don’t talk and she can’t see me.
Right?