Chapter 2
KATIE
Angeline just barely managed to convince me to come out tonight. The bar scene isn’t really my thing, but she’s right about me needing to get out more often. I can’t let work consume my whole life, but that’s just kind of how veterinary medicine is. At least I love it.
What I don’t love, however, is hearing the bell above the door jingle and watching Wayne fucking Riggs walk in with a posse of his old high school friends behind him.
There’s no way. No way in hell. I try to convince myself that I’m wrong, but when I glance back, unease and attraction swirl around each other in my gut.
He looks annoyingly good, still slim but obviously well-muscled, all windswept hair and cocky attitude.
My face heats in instinctual embarrassment, and I turn my back toward the door in an attempt to hide from him.
The last thing I need is to moon over my high school bully, no matter how unstoppable my crush was when we were kids.
I’m an adult with a career and a life. I can’t still be hung up on this asshole.
“Look, Peter sucked,” Angeline says vehemently, sliding another shot across the worn wood of the bartop toward me.
I roll my eyes, but accept the shot and toss it back. I won’t drink another—two is plenty for a weeknight—but the alcohol does set a nice warmth singing in my blood.
“He wasn’t that bad,” I say with a laugh. “We just weren’t compatible.”
The truth is, Peter was… fine. Things were good in the beginning, but I realized after a few months that I only liked him so much because his work schedule as a lineman had him gone for two weeks at a time.
The spark between us faded quickly, and things got boring.
I broke it off last week, and he didn’t argue.
Angeline has been insisting that I need to go out and find someone to hook up with to put that whole thing behind me.
It wouldn’t be too hard—I’ve really settled into myself as an adult, leaving the boxy sweaters and braces behind and embracing my natural curves and my bouncy blond curls. I’ve left the ugly duckling of my high school years firmly behind, but it’s not easy to forget.
It’s harder to forget with Wayne sitting at the end of the bar.
He wasn’t cruel when we were in high school, but he and his friends were the popular sports types, and I was an easy target. It hurt so much more from him than the others, though, because I’ve always thought he was drop-dead gorgeous. Apparently that hasn’t changed.
“Alright, I’m going to the bathroom,” Angeline says as she slides off her barstool. “When I get back, we’re going to find you someone to take home.”
I chuckle when she shoots me an exaggerated wink. I jolt when I glance down the bar to find Wayne already looking at me. His eyes are dark and heated as they linger on the vee of my shirt and the expanse of my thigh that is visible beneath the hem of my skirt.
I blink in shock even as heat flares through me. Wayne Riggs cannot be looking at me like that.
But he claps his buddy on the shoulder and swaggers his way down the length of the bar, his eyes never leaving mine. The grin on his lips is tempting as sin, and twice as hot.
“Hey there,” he says. “This seat taken?”
He nods toward the stool Angeline was just on, but doesn’t wait for me to answer before sitting down.
“Wayne,” he introduces, holding his hand out.
An old ache in my chest twinges when I realize he has no idea who I am, but I reach out and take his hand anyway.
“I know,” I say with a grin. “Katie. You used to make fun of my braces.”
He stares at me blankly for a moment, and then his eyes widen in shock as he recognizes me. It’s probably the hair that clues him in, since those curls stand out in any setting.
“McArthur?” he asks, a laugh coloring the word. “Holy shit, I didn’t even recognize you. I… Jesus, look at you. You look great.”
The vehemence in his voice is almost unflattering, but I know it’s a big change. I went from prime bullying material to someone that men trip over themselves to get with, even if most of them don’t want more than a night in my bed.
“Thanks,” I say dryly. “You look good, too. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
That is an understatement. It’s been close to a decade since I’ve seen Wayne.
Angeline comes out of the bathroom and spots us, her eyes immediately blowing wide.
She shoots me a double thumbs-up and holds her hand up to her ear in a gesture to indicate that I should call her later.
I doubt anything worth rehashing will happen, but I’ll see her at work tomorrow anyway, so I’ll just tell her then.
“Yeah, it’s been ages,” he says, drawing my attention back to him. “Just back in town for a bit to clear my head. Needed a vacation, you know how it is.”
We slip into easy conversation for a while, talking about what Wayne’s been up to in Billings.
He doesn’t ask many questions about what I’ve been up to, but he’s always been the self-absorbed type.
He’s still funny and carefree, and I find myself laughing along with his jokes and enjoying our talk.
When I glance up at the clock and see that it’s nearly 10:00 PM, I’m actually sad to cut things short.
“It was nice to catch up,” I say, surprised at how much I mean it. “I really should get going, though. Work in the morning.”
Wayne hesitates, his brown eyes sparkling under the dim lights of the bar. The sun-bleached waves of his hair shift slightly when he tilts his head, settling against his sharp cheekbones, and I can’t help the fluttering in my stomach at the slow smile he gives me.
“I’ll walk you home,” he says. “It’s not safe for a woman to walk home alone this late.”
It’s not a request, and the certainty in his voice makes my gut tighten.
Windy River isn’t a big enough town that I need to be worried about something as simple as walking home alone, but it’s a good enough excuse.
I can blame the alcohol in my system and a long-repressed crush for the way interest spikes in my stomach.
It’s a shitty excuse, because I know I’m nowhere near drunk, but it’s enough to convince me to agree.
“Sure,” I agree with forced nonchalance. “I’m not far.”
He stands along with me, snagging my jacket off the back of my barstool before I have a chance to. Heat flares in my cheeks, but I allow him to help me into my coat, shivering when his knuckles slide along the length of my arm in a movement so casual that it can’t be anything but intentional.
“How long are you in town for?” I ask as we step out onto the street, the summer heat having died down a bit now that the sun is down.
He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing away. It’s an oddly defensive response to what I thought was perfectly normal small talk, but it’s not like I care that much.
“I’m just taking some time off,” he says. “Been a while since I’ve been home.”
That’s a loaded statement, and we’re definitely not close enough for me to pry, so I just hum agreeably.
We walk the block and a half to my apartment in relative quiet, my mind buzzing.
Is he really just walking me home? I know I won’t have the balls to invite him in, not with the fear of this being just another cruel prank, but I don’t think I’ll be able to turn him down if he asks.
He looks even better than I remember, and my old puppy crush is back in full force.
“That’s me,” I say, nodding toward the little fourplex at the end of the street.
“Really?” Wayne asks. “I’m actually staying right here.”
I glance at the motel we’re in front of, blinking in surprise.
It’s none of my business why he’s not staying at his family’s ranch, so I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking.
I’ve worked with Everett for my entire career, from my internship to after I got my degree, and I’ve almost never heard him mention his son.
I’m sure there’s plenty of rocky family history there that I want nothing to do with.
“What a coincidence,” I say.
There’s a shine in his eyes that tells me exactly where this is heading, but it still comes as a bit of a surprise when I hear it out loud.
“Think I could convince you to come in with me?” he asks, reaching out to tug lightly on a ringlet of my hair that escaped my ponytail.
No beating around the bush, then. I only allow myself a moment to consider it before giggling and stepping in closer, enjoying the flash of heat in his eyes. I never thought Wayne would look at me like this.
“Yeah, I think so,” I say teasingly, laying my hands on his shoulders and scratching my nails over the fabric of his shirt.
“Thank fucking Christ,” he huffs out, his grin widening.
He practically drags me inside, his arm around my waist to hold me against his side as we walk down the hallway.
His room is all the way at the end of the hall, and he fumbles his keycard out of his pocket with one hand while the other traces the shape of my body over my clothes.
He swipes his card before swinging the door to his room open.
The second it closes behind us, he pins me against it.
His hands are hot and insistent on my skin, shoving the hem of my skirt up to grab a handful of my ass as he takes my mouth in a kiss.
He tastes like whiskey and I moan at the unfaltering desire in his movements. I didn’t often allow myself to fantasize about Wayne, but I never dared imagine he’d want me this much.
“Fucking hell,” he groans into my mouth. “Sexy little thing.”
He pulls me away from the door and leads me to the bed, his mouth never leaving mine until he lowers me down onto the mattress. His hands are busy, one shoving at the hem of my skirt and the other tugging at the buttons of his own shirt. I can do nothing but weather the storm that is his attention.
My skirt goes flying, along with my shirt, and I shiver at the heat of his gaze as it travels over my body. His nails dig into my skin and he groans when my hips stutter into his hold.
“Want you in my mouth,” he says, and drops to his knees, tugging me to the edge of the bed.
I hardly even have time to realize he’s sliding my panties off before his tongue is between my thighs.
His stubble scratches against the soft skin on the inside of my legs, a delicious contrast to the slick heat of his mouth.
My head slams back against the bed as I moan and tangle my fingers in the loose waves of his hair.
He eats at me like he’s starving, pleasure washing over me in overwhelming waves.
I shake in his hold, sensitive and relishing in the bliss.
It's been so long since I've had sex that was more than fine.
The first orgasm slams into me without warning, and I toss my head back on a shout.
I tremble as he continues to lap at me, his grip tightening on my hips when I try to pull away to catch my breath.
He doesn't give me a second of reprieve, his lips sealing around my clit so he can suck and turn me into a wailing mess.
He doesn’t stop until I shove him away, overstimulated and shaking from orgasm after orgasm.
“Fuck, Wayne,” I giggle.
He grins at me, his lips slick with my own wetness, and I tug him up to the bed with me.
I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in my life, desperate and empty and needing him inside me immediately.
I groan at the taste of myself on his lips as I yank at his pants, shoving them down as soon as they’re loose enough to slide off his hips.
I should insist on a condom, but the slide of skin on skin feels so good, and I wrap my legs around his hips, tossing the thought off to the side.
I just want him.
He slides into me slowly, groaning as he sinks every last inch of his cock into my soaking pussy.
It stretches me out perfectly, and I shudder beneath him as he starts a punishing pace.
Our bodies move together like we’ve been doing this for years, the rhythm coming easy and sending searing pleasure through my core.
I’m so full I can hardly breathe, Wayne’s palms a searing source of pleasant heat everywhere he touches.
I lose myself to the bliss, raking my nails down his back as he drives me to orgasm over and over again on his cock. I can't even breathe, losing track of how many orgasms he works out of me. All that exists is agonizing bliss, all-encompassing and overwhelming.
By the time he ducks his head into my neck and stutters in his rhythm, I can't think straight. He digs his fingers into my hips hard enough to bruise when he cums, breathing out a sigh of my name that sounds like a prayer.
Jesus.
Maybe I should go out more often.