Chapter 28
I ’m a sleep-deprived, caffeine-fueled gremlin in her element.
Today is the day. The Loaded Hog officially opened her doors, with new signage proudly installed and a fresh look on the inside. She might not be my baby, but I couldn’t be more proud.
Ignoring the minor detail that I’m functioning on about four hours of sleep, and I can’t remember the last time I ate a proper meal—pretty sure it might have been the grilled cheese Beau shoved under my nose at around one a.m. After burning the midnight oil on repeat all week, I could easily be mistaken, days and nights have somewhat blurred together.
I’ve been doing so well, too, throwing every single cell and scrap of creative energy I could muster into getting things ready for today. My talents have stretched as far as perfecting the art of stuffing goodie bags at the dining table until my eyes nearly fell out of my head in the early hours of this morning.
Being preoccupied has been my only lifeline.
Because try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about him.
Even though I absolutely have to shake this sickness, this neediness that keeps on grabbing me by the throat when I least expect it.
Ugh . Do not think about my one night with Beau Heartford, having his hand wrapped around my neck while he fucked me slow and deep and murmured how pretty I look when I come.
Don’t think about that day in the barn. Don’t think about how his cheeks flushed, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Don’t think about the way he talked you through it in the sexiest, roughest voice imaginable. Don’t think about that moan he let out without realizing he did. Is there anything hotter than a man moaning?
Especially… whatever you do, Sage Maloney… do not for one moment think about how that cowboy, for all intents and purposes, touched himself for you and then took you on a date afterward. I mean, it was all very ‘keeping hands to ourselves,’ but even so.
Horse riding and sunsets overlooking the ranch and a mustache to swoon over?
Good lord, I am fuckity-fuck-fucked.
“Welcome to the Hog.” My smile remains plastered on my face as a group of cowgirls stroll in, dressed in pretty pink boots and denim skirts. Their eyes light up with a first glance at the table I’ve got set up just inside the door.
“Here’s your complimentary swag, ladies.” I hand them one each, then hold up the stash of bracelets—ones I sat up long into the small hours, threading together while watching UFO documentaries earlier this week. “And here’s a little memento as a thank you for coming to celebrate with us.”
They ooh and ahh over the contents of the gift bags, then burst with laughter when they read what’s spelled out by the tiny letters strung together of their new friendship bracelet.
“ Finest Wranglers .” One giggles.
“ Rather Be Ridin ’.” Another gives me a wink. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“ My Hat. My Rules .” Their other friend laughs. “These are so cool, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Remember to take some photos over there, and tag the Hog when you post them on your socials… we’re running a giveaway.” I point toward the photo booth. As I lean forward to brace a hand on the table and point through the crowd, the tiny shift in my weight gives me a prominent reminder of the extremely naughty little secret beneath my dress.
One that leaves my thighs squeezing together as I turn and greet the next wave of incoming guests arriving for an afternoon at Crimson Ridge’s hottest new attraction.
The event has been smooth sailing so far. With live music playing out in the garden area, games, and face painting for the little ones. Crowds of all ages have shown up in support of the Hayes brothers with the bar’s relaunch. The place is humming and electric in a way that feels incredible to witness firsthand.
“Where do you want these, Sergeant?” Kayce strolls over, box in his arms, delivering me a fresh supply of bags to hand out. Behind him, carrying a second box, is another cowboy, one who I haven’t met so far, I don’t think.
“Handsome, and somewhat useful when you’re not on the back of a horse… why thank you. Just come and set them down here.” I gesture to the spot on the floor next to where I’m standing.
The two golden-headed cowboys are quick to help, and as I give out a handful more friendship bracelets, I feel Kayce linger by my side. He’s busy being a sweetheart, setting up the bags on the table for me without having to even ask him.
As my eyes tick up, I see the other man hovering nearby.
“You should ask for his number, you know.” I nudge Kayce’s boot with my own. “He’s totally checking you out. One hundred percent digs what’s beneath those jeans, Wilder.”
Kayce keeps his head lowered and methodically rearranges the lines of party favors. But I see blush hitting his cheeks and the back of his neck. The cowboy, who always has a smart joke or a grin from ear to ear, looks adorably flustered. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he shakes his head.
“Don’t know what you mean.”
I chuckle and take the opportunity to give his shoulder a little squeeze. “You ever want to talk about it, or need someone who understands what it’s like to be forever confused by your own damn self? I’m your gal.”
Kayce doesn’t give me a reply, but straightens up and brushes his hands over his jeans. Just as he goes to walk away, just when I think he’s about to disappear off into the growing crowd, he pauses.
Clearing his throat, he looks around at the entrance to confirm there’s no one within earshot, then dips his chin. “When did you first… I mean… how did you know you were?” He shoves both hands in his pockets and stares at the toes of his boots, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“When did I first know I was bi? Pretty sure I took one look at that gorgeous librarian searching for ancient relics, her dashing treasure hunter, and realized a whole lot of things about myself. Talk about one little movie about Mummies being my entire sexual awakening.”
I nudge his elbow with my own. Except, our all too brief conversation starts and ends right there when I hear Layla call my name.
“Sure you’re ok?” I ask as quietly as possible.
This time, his familiar golden boy grin and blue eyes flare back to life, ticking up to greet mine. He shrugs. “Just figuring some stuff out. Nothing I can’t handle. But thanks… you know…”
“What’re you two gossiping about?” Layla squeezes up beside me. Sky has joined her, too.
“Kayce offered to get up there on stage with Chaos and give everyone line dancing lessons.” I give him a waggle of my eyebrows.
“Christ. You really live up to your nickname.” He rolls his eyes. “Sergeant’s orders, is it?” He salutes me, then starts to walk away backward, smirk firmly locked in place.
“Don’t forget to lose the shirts and grease up those abs,” I call after him. “And don’t think you’ll escape being filmed, either. You know I’ve got viral views to collect like a dragon hordes treasure.”
Layla picks up one of the friendship bracelets and lets out a soft laugh. “Can you please give this one to Luke?”
Sky peers at the letters and lets out a snort. “ Horse Daddy. ”
“Can neither confirm nor deny, I might have used you two for inspiration on some of these. Also, do you know how impossible it is to keep it non-slutty after midnight? I was fighting for my life not to start making them all dirty.”
“Gold stars for keeping your mind out of the gutter, Sarge. They’re such a good idea, you know.” Layla kisses my cheek. “My genius girl.”
As she and Sky help out for a moment, chatting to the next round of people who stroll through the door, I feel it. The unexpected sensation makes me jerk, and I nearly bite my tongue in an effort to strangle the noise wanting to fly from my lips.
A text comes through, vibrating in my back pocket. When I carefully pull my phone out, I have to take a deep breath through my nose seeing the words there on screen. Trying my utmost to play it cool without giving away a single hint to my friends standing right there of what’s happening.
Cock Ring:
Payback time begins now.
“Can we get you a drink? Or something to eat while you’re still working over here?” Layla’s voice is enough to have me locking the screen and stuffing it back into my pocket with cat-like reflexes.
“You know I get a little extra naughty—I mean, perfectly well-behaved—when tequila is involved.” I bat my eyelashes pleadingly at her.
“Food first. Then you can have your horn dog devil juice.” She shakes her head at me. “I’ll get the kitchen to prep you something.”
“Love your work.” Blowing a kiss, I’m quickly back to distributing bags and bracelets and chatting to newcomers.
All the while hanging, dangling, teetering on the precipice of expectation. Not knowing when the next round of payment is going to be collected.
I don’t have to wait long before the familiar presence of Beau makes an appearance. He’s enough to set my hormones all aflutter, in his best jeans, a plain white t-shirt, with a camera bag slung over one shoulder. As he walks toward me, those strong hands lift his cowboy hat off, and the motherfucker looks like he’s some sort of living, breathing, slow-motion rodeo movie montage strolling my way.
He’s even got a smug look creasing the corners of his eyes. A look that says I know what your pussy tastes like . The kind of glance that spells a whole lot of danger for me, because I love the kind of game he’s playing. Even if we are absolutely bending all the rules to the point where they might simply explode like glass hitting concrete.
There’s so much trouble in the hint of his lips twitching when he closes the space between us. We could very easily slip up and reveal something unintentionally, and maybe that’s what makes this entire situation even more desirable for me.
Well shit, have I got a lot of miles to run tomorrow morning to burn off this friskiness, or what? Probably should remember to book in with my therapist at the first possible availability, too.
“You must be the photographer.” I cock my head to one side. “Has anyone ever mentioned that you look exactly like that washed-up rodeo dude? Beau Heartford? Heard he used to spend more time grooming his mustache than actually getting on the back of a bull.”
A miracle occurs right before my eyes. The world’s biggest, boyish grin spreads across his face, and oh my fucking god, I don’t know if my knees are going to buckle right here right now.
“Apparently. Heard he’s an asshole who hates coming to things like this, though. Guess you must be mistaken, ma’am.”
We stand for a moment as a couple stroll up to the table, and I run through my little meet-and-greet patter, before sending them in the direction of the photo wall.
“What’s that look for?” I narrow my eyes on him, because Beau is giving me the kind of expression I refuse to interpret for myself.
“Nothing.” He shrugs, and hooks a finger over the edge of one of the bags, peering inside to take a look. A long, thick finger that I know can turn me to putty in his hands. “You’re very good at this.” A heated expression flickers up to hold my own.
“Kinda seems that way, doesn’t it?” My lips curve, and I glance around the room. This cowboy is ruthless, and I’m having to be the epitome of professional, even while he’s tormenting me. “If you can make sure to get plenty of crowd photos, maybe ask a few groups if they’ll let you take some up-close shots? The band, kitchen, the bar staff… anything that will sell this place a hundred times over will be perfect.”
Beau follows my line of sight, and nods as he assesses the scene. “Are you sure you’re feeling ok, Sage?” he murmurs as he drags his phone out of his pocket. “You seem a little on edge?”
The smooth tone of his voice is immediately followed by a slow, rolling, buzzing sensation building in my core. As he taps on the screen, the speed increases ever so slightly.
I work down a heavy swallow and have to adjust my stance because, holy fuck, that setting is my kryptonite.
Beau taps the screen again, ending that particular glimpse of pleasurable torture—for the moment at least.
“No wonder you’re strutting in here looking like an emperor.” Clearing my throat, in an effort to not sound like I’m already panting for this man, I reach for my bag sitting on the floor and rifle through the contents. “I can ride this game out all night long, you know.”
He chuckles, and it’s the most delicious sound coming from somewhere deep inside his chest.
“We’ll see about that.”
“Do your worst, Heartford. Remember, you only get to collect your payment if you actually take photos… and no half-assing. I expect you to do a proper job of it.” Letting my eyes tick up to meet his, there’s a twist to my lips as I lay down the ground rules.
That’s when I notice he’s not looking my way. I catch his side profile; he’s got one hand dragging through his hair, looking a little wide-eyed while casting his attention over the crowd.
For a moment, I feel a pang of guilt hit me square in the chest. Realization pierces me like an arrow that this might be all too much for him. Being around so many people in this sort of environment? Beau has played it cool until now, but I would hate to force him into something that makes him want to shred his own face off.
Just as I’m about to offer an option, to give him the alternative of an easy-out by simply leaving, he shakes his head with a wry laugh.
“You know… I just can’t get my head around the fact there’s a room packed full of guys and girls who are all gonna want to get in your pants.”
That’s what he’s tangled up about? Well, in that case, my inner demon just received a high-voltage dose of mischief surging through me, perfectly timed just as the band kicks into a more raucous song.
“I’m an equal opportunist. What can I say?” Shrugging a shoulder, I fish out the secret item I’d kept hidden inside my purse until now.
With my most innocent of eyelash flutters, I hand the friendship bracelet over to Beau.
“Here, I made one just for you… I’m wearing something special tonight, and now you can too.”