20. Red
CHAPTER TWENTY
Red
I spot her as she bursts out of the pines, running hard enough that my stomach knots before my brain catches up.
Her hat is gone, pine needles cling to her tangled copper hair, and one sleeve hangs ripped where the branches caught her.
She keeps glancing over her shoulder while she races across the pasture, breathing hard enough that I drop the fencing pliers into the dirt and stride toward her without thinking.
“Arizona.”
She finally slows when she reaches me, bending over with her hands on her knees as she fights to catch her breath. She looks back toward the trees before meeting my eyes, excitement shining through the exhaustion.
“I saw someone.”
Every muscle in my body tightens. “Who?”
“A man watching the ranch.”
My hands are on her shoulders before I realize I’ve reached for her. “Did he hurt you?”
She blinks, surprised by the question, then shakes her head. “No. He was standing right at the tree line watching the house.”
Relief crashes through me so fast it almost buckles my knees. “What happened?”
A grin spreads across her face, proud of herself. “I nearly caught him.”
My relief evaporates. “You what?”
“He took off as soon as he saw me, so I chased him.”
I stare at her, waiting for the punchline that never comes. “You chased him?”
“I wasn’t about to let him disappear.”
“You followed a stranger into those woods by yourself?”
“I almost caught him.” She shrugs like that explains everything. “I found boot prints, and there was a cigarette butt where he disappeared over the rocks. I just lost him after that.”
I drop my hands from her shoulders and rake one across my beard before I say something I’ll regret. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Her smile fades. “What?”
“You ran after a man we know nothing about.”
“He was spying on the ranch.”
“And you figured chasing him alone was a good idea?”
“What was I supposed to do?” she shoots back, throwing her hands into the air. “Stand there and wave while he wandered off?”
“I expected you to use your damn head.”
She folds her arms across her chest, every bit as stubborn as the day she rolled into Colter Creek. “I did.”
“You ran straight into the woods after somebody who could’ve been carrying a gun.”
“I would’ve dealt with it.”
“You don’t even know what ‘it’ was.”
She steps closer, refusing to give an inch. “I’ve looked after myself for a long time, Red.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“And I’m still here.”
“You’ve been lucky.”
Her eyes flash. “I’ve survived because I know what I’m doing.”
I let out a humorless laugh and shake my head. “You sprinted into a burning trailer yesterday, and today you chased a stranger through the trees. You keep calling that survival like it’s proof you’re making good decisions.”
“He wanted somebody to notice him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough to wonder why he ran.”
She opens her mouth, but I don’t give her the chance. “He saw you looking at him, then disappeared into the trees, and you followed him exactly where he wanted you.”
Her confidence wavers, just enough for me to see the thought taking hold. “You don’t know he wanted me to follow.”
“I don’t.”
I step closer until barely any space separates us, and she lifts her chin instead of backing away.
“That’s the problem, Arizona. Neither of us knows a damn thing about him.
He could’ve had a weapon tucked under his jacket.
He could’ve had three more men waiting in those woods.
He could’ve been counting on you charging after him because you never stop to think somebody else might be setting the trap. ”
She presses a finger against my chest. “You don’t get to tell me who I am.”
“I get to tell you what I saw. You nearly became the person somebody else had to save.”
She exhales hard and drags her hand through her hair. “You make me sound reckless.”
“You make reckless look like a hobby.” Her lips part, ready with another argument, but I keep going because once I stop, I’m afraid I won’t say any of it.
“I kept imagining what would’ve happened if he’d turned around instead of running.
I pictured you bleeding out somewhere in those woods while the rest of us searched every acre of this ranch wondering why you never came back. ”
I brush a loose strand of copper hair behind her ear, my fingertips skimming her cheek as she leans into my hand.
She watches me with those stubborn green eyes, waiting for me to say the one thing that’ll make this whole fight disappear, and I can’t give it to her because I’m still picturing her vanishing into those trees while my imagination filled in every ending I never wanted to see.
“You drive me absolutely fucking crazy,” I mutter, unable to look anywhere but at her.
The corner of her mouth lifts. “Yeah, I’ve been getting that impression.”
Her smug little smile pushes every ounce of restraint right out of me. I cup her jaw and drag her against me, crushing my mouth to hers before she can throw another smart-ass comment my way.
She stiffens with surprise, then grabs the front of my shirt and kisses me right back with enough fire to make my blood boil all over again.
I can’t decide whether I want to shake her or kiss her senseless, so I do both in the only way I can, pouring every bit of fear, anger, and relief into her mouth.
Every image of her running headlong into those woods keeps crashing through my head, and I answer each one by kissing her harder, refusing to let her pull away until I finally force myself to stop.
I pin her hips between my hands and drive her back until the weathered fence catches her, but she doesn’t give an inch. She fists my shirt instead, dragging me into her until our mouths meet again because neither of us has enough sense left to stop.
Her lips are split from the cold, her cheeks scraped raw by the branches she’d charged through, and all I can think about is kissing her.
I want every stubborn, infuriating piece of her, every ounce of defiance that sent her charging after a stranger, every scrap of adrenaline that’s still making us shake.
“Fucking hell, Arizona,” I murmur against her mouth, but she steals the words away with another kiss before I can get them out.
She bites my bottom lip, grinning like she’s proud of herself, and that grin only makes me kiss her harder.
She smells like pine sap and mud, with the bite of fear still clinging to her hair, and blood beads along her arm where her sleeve tore open.
Part of me wants to pull back and check every scrape she’s hiding, yet she has one hand working open the buttons on my shirt while the other hooks in my collar and yanks me down until my mouth finds hers again.
She tastes like salt, blood, and desperation, and I’d swear I could get drunk on it if my head wasn’t already spinning.
Her tongue slides against my teeth with enough fire to make every muscle in my body tighten, and I fight the urge to press her harder against the fence, cage her there with my body, and kiss her until she forgets she ever scared the hell out of me.
Every instinct pulls me toward holding her there, but the one that wins is the need to know she’s here, alive, stubborn, and kissing me back.
When we finally break apart, we’re both dragging in breath, our foreheads pressed together while my hands stay locked on her hips because I don’t trust myself to let go.
“You’re out of your mind,” I mutter, still trying to calm the pounding in my chest.
She smiles without the slightest hint of regret, her fingers curling into my shirt again as she looks up at me. “You like it.”
The challenge in her eyes hits me square in the gut, and my cock twitches like I’m back in high school all over again.
She yanks my shirt open the rest of the way, sending buttons pinging across the frosty ground like bullets, and I drive her back another step until her ass presses into the weathered fence post.
I catch the taste of her laughter in the kiss, but she doesn’t give me a chance to answer because her nails rake down my back, snagging the fabric until it gives beneath her hands, and it takes every ounce of control I’ve got to keep from tearing the clothes off both of us.
I catch her wrists and pin them above her head, holding them against the rough wood while I crowd into her.
She tests my grip right away, twisting and pulling as though she’s determined to break free, but I answer by pressing my body harder against hers until our hips grind together through two layers of denim.
Her chest rises and falls against mine, her eyes burn with challenge, and her lips are already bruised from the way we’ve been kissing. She drags her tongue across them, taking her time as she watches me.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to be gentle,” she murmurs, daring me to prove her wrong.
“I’m not.”
I keep both of her wrists trapped in one hand as I use my body to hold her against the fence and dip my head to her neck. Her skin is wind burned, warm beneath my mouth, carrying the taste of sweat after everything she’d put herself through today.
I bite just below her ear, and she gasps before arching into me, twisting hard enough that my grip slips a fraction. I tighten my hold before she can pull free, and the smile that spreads across her face tells me she was counting on exactly that.
“So that’s how you’re gonna play it,” she breathes, tipping her chin higher to give me even more of her neck. “Go on, then. Show me.”
I do.
I catch her bottom lip between my teeth and bite without an ounce of mercy, and she shivers against me like the cold never touched her until now. She comes back at me with everything she’s got.
Even with both wrists trapped in one of my hands, she turns every inch of herself into a weapon.
Her knee wedges between my thighs before sliding up to grind against my cock, then she traps me there as she braces her boots on the bottom plank, bends her knees, and snaps her hips into mine with enough force to make me grit my teeth.
I let go of her only long enough to grab her by the ass and haul her onto the fence like I mean to split the damn thing in half. Her legs lock around my waist, the heels of her boots digging into my back as she wraps herself around me like a second skin, all lithe muscle and pure spite.
My fingers fumble at her belt buckle, clumsy from wanting her too much, but she beats me to it by popping the button with one hand while the other buries itself in my hair and yanks hard enough to jerk my head back, laying my throat open for her.
She bites down without holding back, and if any part of my brain still gave a damn, it’d be warning me about the marks she’s leaving along my jaw and neck.
Instead, I sink deeper into her, into the wild scrape of her nails across my shoulders, the sweat shining along her collarbone, and the single vicious line of crimson where her shirt tore against the pines.
I drag my thumb over the cut with enough pressure to make her shudder, and her chest rises hard against mine as she fights for another breath.
I twist her wrist behind her back and force her chest up against mine, holding her exactly where I want her, and she answers by arching harder into the pressure until her hips roll against every ridge and seam of me.
A rough laugh catches in her throat, breaking into little gasps that barely sound human anymore. When I slide my free hand beneath the ragged hem of her shirt and trace the line of her ribs, heat pours off her skin.
I close my hand around her side, my thumb digging into the muscle beneath my palm, and she hisses as the back of her head bumps the fence post. She loves every second of it, and I keep my hand right where it is.
Her belt gives with a groan, and I shove the denim down over her hips without easing the pressure between us. She drags her nails across my cheek, and I catch her hand before she gets any farther, pinning it over her head again while the other stays trapped behind her back.
Her legs lock tighter around my waist, holding me against her as her boots knock against the weathered boards with every ragged movement. She’s halfway out of her jeans, and I can’t remember when that happened.
Every scrape across her skin, every bruise that’ll bloom, every split in her lip burns through me until it feels like I’m carrying them with her.
She gives me every ounce of fight she’s got, and I meet her with my own because holding her here still doesn’t satisfy the part of me that wants to leave my mark all over her.
She tears one hand free with a burst of strength, hooks her thumb beneath my jaw, and jerks my face back toward hers. Mud streaks her cheek, her eyes burn into mine, and her mouth curls into the same defiant grin that’s been driving me crazy since she showed up.
“You want to talk about reckless?” she rasps, her words scraped raw from running, or maybe from wanting me this much. “You haven’t got a clue.”
Before I can answer, she catches my wrist and guides my hand between her legs, hot and already desperate beneath the cotton.
She shoves her underwear aside, hooks my fingers where she wants them, and shows me exactly where, exactly how, exactly now.
I don’t hesitate. Wanting her has burned away every sensible thought I’ve got, and I drive two fingers inside her before she can get another word out.
My thumb finds her clit, pressing hard enough to make her break apart against me as her hips slam into my hand. She bites back a whimper, grinding against my palm with enough force to leave both of us shaking.
Whatever control I thought I had disappeared a long time ago. My jeans bunch around my knees while she rides my hand on trembling legs, strands of copper hair stuck across her damp face.
She lets go of my hair only long enough to sink her teeth into the muscle of my shoulder, biting hard enough to pull a grunt out of me and send sparks through my head.
I welcome the bruise because I want every mark she leaves behind, every reminder written across my skin in blood and heat that this happened exactly like this, with her wild enough to give herself to me without holding back.
“Well.”
The single word hits me like a boot across the back of my neck.
Willy.
I’d know his voice anywhere.
Every muscle in my body locks while her legs stay wrapped around my waist, my hand stays exactly where it is, and we’re left frozen together in a position neither of us can pretend away.
“Don’t mind me.”