Chapter 17
Maggie
The overwhelming urge to kiss Hadley Jones has taken over my mind and refuses to budge.
I retrain my gaze on my laptop, specifically the email I sent Knox for his interview questions that have me regretting ever taking this job.
But I will make it work and I will show everyone on this ridiculous circuit I don’t trade favors.
Knox’s article is going to be a stellar one. I only have to ignore the searing annoyance I carry for the man.
I can do that.
I check emails, edit a bunch of photos, and upload them to the Pbr site before snapping the laptop shut and heading out to find the villain of the story himself. Kade Knox.
And find him, I do. Rutting some blonde against the back of the bar building.
“I’ll wait.” I feign a chipper tone like I’ve stumbled upon someone checking their mailbox, not fucking like animals in broad daylight. I turn away, fighting off the heat in my face. I’m not a prude, but I did not expect that.
Knox continues, and I roll my eyes and move into the shade of a tree, dipping my attention to my phone. I have two messages from Mom, checking in. I tap out a reply and check the weather app for later today. I’m excited to go to the lake. It’s been ages since I went swimming in fresh water.
A zip whines before footsteps close in.
I spin around. “Geez, lucky girl.”
He grunts a sardonic sound before adjusting the black hat on his head. “Didn’t hear no complaints.”
“Okay, well. Now that you are done with your extracurricular, can we make a start?”
“After you, Mags.”
I sigh. I don’t mind the nickname. Just when he uses it.
He waves a hand, indicating we move inside to the bar area. I lead the way, dropping onto a stool in the center as I take out my laptop and tiny handheld recording machine.
Knox sinks onto the stool two down from me and plucks his hat from his head, dropping it to the bar.
I click the record button. “Interview commenced, Saturday, May tenth, twelve forty-five p.m. at Cold Lake rodeo grounds with Kade Knox of the Alberta Bravos.”
“Sounds legit, Gallagher.”
I raise a brow before diving into the questions. “So where did you grow up, and what was your family like?”
“Pass.”
I dip my chin. “You pass on the very first question?”
“What’s that got to do with my bull riding?”
“People want to know the bull riders, Kade. Not just watch them. It’s a community-building exercise. You know, good publicity.”
“Fine. Grew up in Saskatchewan and moved to BC when I graduated from high school.”
“How about your family? What was your childhood like?”
His face turns to stone. “Nope.”
I sigh. I seem to do it a lot around this guy. “Fine, did you always want to be a bull rider?”
“Not exactly.”
“Knox, you’re going to have to give me more than one and two-word answers. People, apparently, want to get to know you.”
His tongue sweeps over his top teeth. “Yeah, I changed my mind. I’m not interested in being interviewed.”
“Um, okay. Well, you were upset about people being singled out, and now you don’t want to participate. So, which is it?”
I fold my arms with an annoyed huff.
He rises from the stool and shoves his hat on his head. “I’m not participating. In fact, I just had a revelation. I don’t care what you and Jones fucking do. Stay out of my way.”
He stalks off, and I’m left with the recording machine whirring beside me. I hit the stop button and shake my head. Talk about whiplash, bud.
The lake at Cold Lake Provincial Park is perfect.
Pristine blues are surrounded by crisp greens, earthy browns, and grey-and-white accents in the form of tree trunks and rocky ledges.
The fresh air stretches my lungs as I haul myself from Spencer’s truck.
Brady and Hadley roll in behind us, and we wander toward the water as the rest of the crew files in, parking along the shoreline.
Some of the other team members spill from the trucks with their girlfriends or wives as I step into the water. After a hot and humid morning, I could use a way to cool off.
The cool lake pools around my feet, tangling through my toes as I curl them into the sandy shore. It’s pure bliss. It’s the first outing we’ve all been on as a team and crew. So many smiling faces, so different from the behind-the-chutes routines and focus.
“Maggie!” A tall blonde all but leaps from a still-moving truck, making a beeline for me.
Layla.
I can see Logan shake his head as he pulls up alongside Brady’s truck.
“Hey Layla!” I wave and she catches herself by grabbing my arms, sliding to a stop in the shallow water with a laugh. “Wow, did you guys just get here?”
“Urgh, my brother the workaholic wanted to bale damn hay before we left for the event. I swear to god.” She kicks up a foot, spraying water in front of us. With a heavy sigh, she holds her arms out at her sides and closes her eyes. “It’s so good to relax for a beat.”
“Busy week?”
“You have no idea. Ranch work never ends.”
“So I’ve heard.” I smile at her, but her eyes are still closed.
“You’re not a rancher, are you?” She opens those pretty blues and her gaze catches mine.
“Nope. Journalist. Photojournalism, to be specific. This gig is just to tide me over till the end of the year. Most opportunities open up just before Christmas, so . . .”
“You’re not staying?” Her brows drop, surprise etched all over her face.
“Um, well, no. That wasn’t the plan.”
She glances at the ruckus the others are making, cowboys turned water babies as they are chest-deep in the lake, roughhousing.
“That’s a shame.” Her words are soft, her focus hovering over Logan, Spencer, Brady, and finally Hadley, who floats in the water, chatting away. “I was getting used to seeing you around.”
“We should hang out more.”
I feel bad we haven’t had more time together now.
“I would like that.”
We fall into a comfortable silence and wade into the water.
It’s heaven on my legs, rising up over my ass, and I squeal a little as it nips at my waist. My T-shirt is dark blue and darkens further with the water.
Dropping down to bob in the clear blue, every inch of me relaxes.
Thoughts of Knox, the interviews, and the drama with the scout photos fade.
“Imagine living by a lake like this,” Layla muses as she floats to my right.
I chuckle. “I do.”
Turning her head, she narrows her eyes. “Where?”
“Yoho.”
“Maggie! You live near Yoho?”
“At the foot of it, actually. My parents do, at least. I don’t know where I’ll end up.”
“Really . . .”
She’s suspiciously silent for a moment, until, “What about ranch life?”
“Don’t think it fits with traveling the globe for work.”
“Oh. Well, if that ever changes . . .”
I chuckle and she waves a hand through the surface, flinging water at me. If I’d ever wanted a sister, it would have been someone like Layla.
Smart. Kind. Funny and fun.
I wasn’t lucky enough to have siblings. Somedays I wish I did, but I guess you can’t really miss what you’ve never had.
“Layles!” Logan calls almost an hour later.
Layla and I are pruned-up old ladies, but neither of us cared enough to leave the water as we talked about everything and anything, floating in the glistening blue.
“Dammit. I better go. I have to ready my girl for our run tonight. This was fun, we should absolutely do this again.”
“Float in a lake and prune up for an hour?”
Another wave rolls toward me. “Talk, hang out.”
“Sure,” I utter, a smile blooming over my face. Layla wanders from the lake, and Logan hands her a towel. Drying off, she climbs up into his truck. It’s then I realize most of the vehicles are gone. Brady’s still sits where he left it.
Water ripples, and I turn to find Hadley swimming toward me.
His hair wet, water cascades over his shoulders as he stands where I can barely touch the bottom of the lake. “Hi,” he says, the rumble a low, heady tone.
I can’t help but smile.
I hadn’t been ignoring him, I was just happy talking to Layla. But now we’re almost out of time and I spent none of it with Hadley, and he invited me here.
“I’m sorry, I got caught up talking with Layla. She’s so lovely.”
His hand leaves the water, his fingertips brushing a soaked strand of hair behind my ear. “She is.”
That makes my smile widen.
“We should be getting back, too, I guess.” I glance at the shore. Now the only vehicle that’s left is Brady’s, but the man himself is nowhere to be seen.
“Maggie . . .” My name is a raspy, low rumble on Hadley’s lips.
I look up, meeting his gaze. His darkened gaze.
My last breath catches in my useless throat, and I press a palm to his bare chest. The hard muscle moves a little with my touch and he dips his chin, messy hair falling over his face.
“Tell me it’s all in my damn head, please.”
“Wha—what exactly is all in your head?” I utter.
“This thing between you and me.”
I ca—
I won—
I . . . have no idea what’s real and what’s not anymore.
I swore never to fall for a rodeo man, but my brightest days are the weekends. The way I look for Hadley in every hat-filled sea of people at every crowded event. The way he was kind even before being my friend.
I can’t.
Tugging my bottom lip through my teeth, I raise a hand. Fingers brushing over his jawline, I study the way it flexes under my touch. The staggered breath he takes. Wild beats tap under my palm, still pressed to his chest.
His gaze drops to my lips before swinging back up to meet mine. “Fuck, I want to taste you, Maggie.”
My fingers travel from their point of origin to the nape of his neck, threading through the damp locks. His body presses against mine.
The cool water in the lake disappears until the only thing left is the heat between us, the fire flickering to life in my core as my breaths shallow out like never before.
His hands wrap around my waist, squeezing, a reminder he’s desperately waiting. I trail my fingers back around his jaw, pulling him down to me until our mouths almost touch. His short breaths warm my face. My lungs burn with his proximity. His corded body against mine.
His steady hardness against my giving softness.
“What happens after, Hadley?” I breathe.
“Whatever you want this to be,” he rasps.
I’m burning alive standing in a lake of cool water lapping my body. I study the shape of his mouth. The last of my breath vanishes, but I manage, “I’ll keep you posted after, then.”
I push up on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his.
His grip on my waist tightens.
Hands wandering into his hair, I bring him closer still. Like the last of his control snaps, he hoists me onto his hips.
I devour him.
He returns my hunger with his own fiery need.
I can’t breathe.
His tongue nudges my lips, and I open for him.
I’m obliterated within a heartbeat. He explores, tastes . . . takes. I willingly give up what he asks for. Clawing at him desperately, I moan and he takes the sound, swallowing it down.
Claiming everything he can, he kisses me deeper. The kind of kiss that’s been a long time coming. His tongue sweeps over mine before he nips my bottom lip. I whimper, the last of my inhibitions drowned somewhere at my feet.
Hadley Jones turned my one fear into the best moment of my entire life.
We break apart, too breathless to see straight, and my body trembles. My mind reeling from the thought that if I’d chosen differently, I would have never had this moment. I mourn the thought, as ridiculous as I tell myself that is.