Rodeo #3
It’s not like I cared that people knew I wanted to fuck Cash Mooney. Hell, I had every intention to. But the fact that him putting his hat on me potentially meant something more than a purely physical thing pissed me the fuck off.
“You didn’t know that?” she asked, her dark brows pinched together and her nose scrunched up, accentuating her freckles.
I shook my head and flagged down the bartender. “No, I fucking didn’t.”
Meeting his parents. Claiming me with the hat rule. What was next, him asking me to move in or fight one of his exes?
“Look, girls…” came a squeaky, feminine drawl from behind me. “Cash’s tryin’ out a new flavor of the week. How long we think this one’ll last?”
I turned slowly on my heel. “Excuse the fuck out of me? I know you weren’t talking about me just now.”
A gaggle of women probably around my age settled before Walker and I.
The leader, a redhead sporting more sparkles and glitter than every person here combined, crossed her arms over her chest and stared me up and down.
She reminded me of a country Barbie if I ever saw one.
From her overbotoxed bubble gum pink lips, pink bandana covered fake tits, and—what do you know—pink rhinestone cowboy boots.
Apparently, she and Cash shared the same favorite color.
Great, now I got to cross meeting an ex off the claiming checklist as well. Yippy for me.
The woman quirked a brow up, her lips drawing into a venomous grin. “What does it look like I’m doin’, sweetheart?”
This bitch… One of my hands curled into a fist, fury blasting through me like a damn geyser. “Just who the fuck do you think you are, sweetheart?”
She pushed her red hair over her shoulder, and even from this distance, I got a whiff of her overly strong vanilla perfume and the stale scent of cigarettes. “The name’s Kelsea. And I’m Cash’s.”
I laughed, a low throaty sound bubbling out of me. “Cash’s what? Buckle bunny? That’s real cute,” I replied, my tone sugary-sweet. “Why don’t you go hop right the fuck along?”
Dear God, was all of this just like any other day in the life with Cash?
If I expected this woman to have any shred of decency, I’d have been dead wrong.
She looked…proud actually to basically be called Cash’s whore.
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Standing up a bit taller, she gestured at her shiny belt.
It was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Just rodeo buckles attached to one another, hanging low on her hips.
“Look all you want, sweetheart. I’ve got quite a few of Cash’s in my collection.
It’s quite impressive, ain’t it? He might ride broncs for a livin’ but I can promise, you ain’t a better ride than me. ”
“Oh, Jesus Christ…” I laughed, any of the anger I felt only seconds before turning into pity.
This woman was impressive, alright. Just not in the way she thought she was. I had to give her credit for being so delusional though. It truly was a feat.
Pushing off the bar, I moved into her space.
She was an inch or so taller than me, but there was something about confidence that trumped height in situations like this.
Good thing I was brimming with it. Gripping her chin gently, almost intimately, I crooned, “Aw look at you, you poor, unfortunate soul. You’re a real-life podunk princess with all your thingamajigs and whatchamacallits.
Not to mention, the shitty red box dye is a nice finishing touch. ”
“Witch,” she snapped, backing out of my grip.
A vicious grin settled on my lips. “I think you meant bitch.”
Her eyes narrowed on me, her tone defensive and hard as she ground out, “Stay the fuck away from Cash.”
But she was about as threatening as Violet’s chihuahua. Even less so actually. “See, I can’t do that because of this hat right here. You know what they say?” I shrugged. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy. And I can guarantee the ride he’s about to get is better than any you can give him.”
She glared daggers at me, her face contorting into a furious sneer. “Fuck you,” she spat.
“Mmm,” I hummed, forcing my next words to come out fake and high like hers. “Eat glass.”
She stomped off without another word, a cloud of her sickly sweet scent lingering for a moment. I waved at the air in front of me and blew out a breath. She chose the wrong bitch to mess with. I needed a drink. Or five. ASAP.
A series of claps echoed from behind me. “That was quite the show, sugar. Can I take that ride now or do I gotta wait ‘til later?”
I spun around so quickly I might have gotten whiplash, and came face to face with none other than Cash.
His mouth was quirked up into an amused smirk, accentuating his slutty little stache, and his hazel eyes glittered like gemstones.
Fury and adrenaline and so much desire pumped through me it was hard to tell which was what.
But anger won out as I grabbed the cowboy hat—his cowboy hat—and all but slammed it back on top of his head before pushing him out of my way. “Fuck you, Cash.”
Some men, no matter how hot, just weren’t worth the trouble.
And this man was trouble with a capital T.