Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
isaac
Cowboy training camp ends with little fanfare. Though Ivy does make each of the participants cute little certificates of completion.
I should be relieved. There’s a large payout coming, and I’ve been able to get back to my actual responsibilities on the ranch.
But not having an excuse to see Elena as often is killing me.
I work all day, and she works half the night. Since she and Eli are staying in town during the break before filming, the production crew decided to keep blocking scenes and shooting promotional footage.
It’s been days since I was inside her in the tack room and I’m jonesing like an addict needing a fix.
I’m not supposed to be here.
Production made it clear to everyone that they were blocking intimate scenes this week and needed as much privacy as possible. But when they said they needed extra towels and blankets in the barn, I volunteered.
I tell myself I’ll leave them at the crew tent and walk away.
That was the plan. But there’s no one in the tent and then I hear it.
Elena’s laugh.
Not the polite kind. Not the forced actress one. The real one. The one that always hits me low in the gut, like a sucker punch because until this moment, I thought it was reserved for me.
I round the corner inside the barn and freeze.
There she is.
Standing barefoot in a mock outdoor shower rigged with fake steam and soft lighting, hair slicked back, body pressed against Eli James like they’ve done this before.
Which they probably have.
I know it’s fake. I know the script. Hell, I lived the script. Or had a front row seat to it anyway.
But none of that stops my blood from going molten.
Especially not when Eli leans in and grins at her like he knows her. Like he’s been inside the private parts of her mind that I’ve only begun to crack.
Especially not when I hear him say, “You like that, sweet girl? Right there, is that the spot?”
I can’t see his hands. The makeshift shower stall is blocking my view.
My brain blanks after that.
And then I’m moving.
Before anyone can stop me, my fist collides with his jaw. Elena shrieks in surprise. Almost making a chicken sound of some sort.
Eli stumbles back, slamming into the fake stall wall, causing it to crash to the ground. Water sprays me but I don’t care. He glares at me, one hand to his face.
“Jesus,” he mutters, gripping his jaw. “The hell was that for?”
I attempt to cobble together a sentence about respecting women on this ranch while breathing heavily through my nose like a dragon. “It—I—you were—”
“Is this about Willow,” he breaks in, looking as freaked out as I feel.
“Willow?” Now I’m confused. And my hand is throbbing like hell.
“What the actual fuck, Isaac?” Elena’s voice slices in, sharp and furious.
I turn back to look at her and notice Sophia the hen in her arms. The missing puzzle piece snaps into place in my mind.
Eli wasn’t fondling Elena. He was petting Sophia while Elena held her. She must’ve wandered onto the scene while they were blocking.
“If it’s not about Willow, you sure are mighty protective of your chickens,” Eli says, rubbing his jaw, somehow still managing a grin. “My bad, man.”
“Chickens,” I say stupidly, unable to accept how big of an ass I just made of myself.
I glance around at our audience but there’s only silence.
Awkward, stunned silence. Ivy and a few members of the film crew eye me warily as they scramble to fix the shower wall.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say to him, then swing my gaze to Elena because she’s looking eighty shades of pissed off in a black tube top bikini that makes my mouth go dry. “Hey.” I reach for her, but someone grabs my arm.
I whirl around to see Wyatt. Not sure where he came from, but Ivy probably radioed him or sent an emergency husband smoke signal into the sky. “Walk. Now.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t,” he says through clenched teeth. “But now’s not the time to explain. Let’s take a walk. Before my wife murders you on camera.”
He yanks me out of the set and toward the pasture behind the stables. I don’t fight it.
My knuckles throb. My pride aches worse.
Elena radiates unadulterated anger at me with her laser beam eyes as I leave. Even Sophia looks annoyed. I shoot them both the most apologetic look I can manage.
I fucked up. Bad.
I know it. I just don’t know how to fix it.
When we’re far enough away from the barn, Wyatt turns to face me.
“What the hell has gotten into you?”
A feral woman I never saw coming.
I run a hand through my hair, still wired with adrenaline. “I don’t know. I just—I saw them. And it looked like he was, I don’t know, disrespecting her. And I just snapped.”
Wyatt studies me.
Then he sighs. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“No,” I say, locking my jaw tight, trying to keep in the truth.
“I’m not asking you to spill your guts about whatever is going on with you and the actress,” he says evenly. “But I am telling you to get your head on straight before you ruin this whole opportunity for my wife, the ranch, and for her.”
Silence stretches between us. Heavy. Uncomfortable.
My brother is a man of few words so it’s usually not an issue. But knowing I really pissed him off this time, not in the semi-amusing way I normally do, combined with trying to gage how much I’ve fucked up my—whatever it is—with Elena, is making me twitchy.
Wyatt inhales deeply then levels me with a stare.
“I spoke with Noah Wilder the other day. They’re struggling to hang onto decent hands this summer. Could use some help.”
I shake my head. “I’m not running away just because—”
“Not running, Isaac. Getting some distance. Finding some space to clear your head.” His brows dip inward. “Before I have to clear it for you.”
I glance back toward the set. Wondering if my spitfire girl will ever talk to me again. Knowing it’s best for her if I leave without making any more of a scene.
“Yeah, okay,” I say even though I hate it. “I’ll call him. Probably ride out there tonight.”
Wyatt appears relieved. “I’ll try to smooth things over with Eli. Make sure he doesn’t sue us for your unstable ass.”
“Thanks. Please tell Ivy I’m sorry.”
My brother stares so intently at me, I squirm.
Then he gives me his version of a grin. The man still isn’t what one would call expressive. “I get it. Just like the last bar fight you got into. No one disrespects a woman in front of you. It’s honorable. A little fucked up. But honorable.”
Except it isn’t like that this time. Not at all.
That was about a woman being called a blatantly disrespectful name. And I was more than a little drunk at the time.
I’m sober as a choir boy, and I didn’t think Eli was disrespecting Elena.
She was smiling. They were laughing.
I thought he was touching something that belonged to me. But he wasn’t. She doesn’t. And I need to get out of here and get my mind right.
Because every single cell in my body is screaming that even if she’ll never belong to me, I damn sure belong to her.