Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
K ing
The Copper Country Café hums with the lazy buzz of a small-town morning. I sit at my usual corner table, nursing a black coffee that’s cooled too much for my liking. Betty, ever the meddler, keeps giving me knowing glances from behind the counter. She’s been on me about Indie for days now, but I don’t need her nosy nudges. I’ve got enough to think about without her matchmaking schemes.
Then I see her.
Indie walks in, sunlight streaking through the door and catching in her hair like the universe was built to spotlight her. She’s wearing that baby blue oversized sweater she seems to love, though it hangs off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin that’s way too distracting for a Sunday morning.
My coffee’s forgotten. Hell, everything’s forgotten. Ever since I was inside this woman last night I’ve been able to think about nothing but her. I drove her home after our passionate encounter in the barn–I asked her to stay–to let me hold her all night long, but she refused, saying she didn’t want to rush things. You’ll get sick of me if we move so fast, she’d said. She’s wrong, I could never get sick of her, but I didn’t want to push her. I know she’s struggling with something she hasn’t yet told me, so if she needs time, I’m happy to give it to her. For now.
Indie meets my eyes then, and there’s a flicker of something—something warm, inviting, and dangerous all at once. She smiles, soft and teasing, and I know she’s going to be the death of me.
Betty pounces before she can get two steps in. “Morning, Indie! Got your usual waiting for you. King’s over there looking like a grizzly in heat. Why don’t you keep him company?”
“Betty,” I grumble, but the woman just winks.
Indie laughs, and damn if the sound doesn’t send a bolt of heat straight through me.
“I think he might bite,” she teases, glancing at me as she heads to the counter.
I lean back in my chair, letting her see the smirk I can’t help. “Only if you ask real nice.”
She shakes her head, fighting a grin, and that’s when I notice the man behind her.
Tall. Polished. A suit that costs more than my truck. The way he looks at her, like he owns her, has every instinct in me sharpening. I don’t like it. Not one damn bit.
“Indie,” he says, his voice smooth and oozing entitlement.
She stiffens, and the light in her eyes dims. That’s all I need to know I hate this guy.
“Chad,” she says, her tone icy but steady. “What are you doing here?”
“Collecting what’s mine,” he replies, loud enough for the whole café to hear. The smug smirk on his face makes me want to knock his teeth in.
Indie steps back, crossing her arms. “I’m not yours. You need to leave.”
Chad ignores her, stepping closer, his voice dropping but no less venomous. “You can’t run forever, Indie. You belong with me, in Hollywood, not playing house with some hicks on this mountain.”
That does it. I push back my chair, the scrape loud and deliberate. Every eye in the café turns toward me, but I don’t care. My boots hit the floor with heavy steps as I cross the room.
“You got a problem, city boy?” I ask, my voice low and dangerous.
Chad turns, sizing me up. I see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he hides it behind a sneer. “This doesn’t concern you, cowboy.”
“Looks like it concerns Indie,” I say, my gaze locking with hers. She’s holding her ground, but I see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands curl into fists. “And if it concerns her, it concerns me.”
Chad laughs, but it’s brittle. “Oh, I get it. She’s slumming it. That’s cute.”
“Careful,” I warn, stepping closer. “You’re on my mountain now.”
He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Your mountain? How quaint. Indie, let’s go. You’ve had your fun.”
Indie shakes her head, but I see tears hovering behind her eyelids. “King is my boyfriend–”
My eyes widen a moment before I sling an arm over her shoulder and pull her into me protectively. “Fiancé– actually.”
Indie’s eyes flicker with surprise before she curls a little deeper into me, her fingers tangling in the hem of my flannel.
Chad’s eyes flare with anger. “You’re mine, Indie. We had a wedding planned–you fucking left on our wedding day.”
Chad’s teeth grit together before he grabs her arm, and that’s when everything slows. I see the way she jerks back, the fear flashing in her eyes, and it’s like a switch flips.
“Touch her and die,” I say, my voice cold as the snow outside.
Chad doesn’t listen. He pulls her toward the door, Indie resisting the entire way. That’s when I move.
They’re half way across the parking lot, so I loosen Copper from the post where I tied her and swing into the saddle in one fluid motion.
Chad’s trying to shove Indie into his car when I charge across the lot, Copper’s hooves pounding against the pavement like thunder. Chad looks up, his face going pale as I bear down on him.
“Hands off her!” I bellow, and the force of it makes him stumble back. I swing my rope in the air and in one motion loop it around his form, yanking him away from Indie and against Copper’s flank.
Indie scrambles away, her wide eyes locking with mine for a split second before I focus on the city boy. I dismount, hitting the ground hard enough to send a jolt through my legs.
He straightens, trying to recover his dignity. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m the man who’s about to make you regret coming here,” I say, stalking toward him.
He throws a punch, wild and sloppy, and I sidestep it easily. My fist connects with his jaw, and the satisfying crack echoes across the lot. He stumbles back, clutching his face, but I’m not done.
“You think you can just waltz in here and take what you want?” I growl, grabbing him by the collar. “You don’t own her. You don’t own shit.”
He tries to swing again, but I block it, landing another punch to his pretty face, a gush of blood releasing from his nose, and then I land another punch to his gut. He doubles over, gasping for air, dropping to the pavement in a useless heap.
“Get the hell out of Copper Mountain,” I say, my voice like steel. “And don’t you ever come near her again.”
He glares at me, his face red and bloodied, but he knows he’s lost. He crawls into his car, shouting for his driver to get him the hell out of here. The car peels out of the lot, leaving a trail of dust behind it.
I turn to find Indie standing there, her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted, and for a moment, neither of us says anything.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice softer now.
She nods, but I can see the tremble in her hands. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did,” I say, stepping closer. “Nobody messes with you, Indie. Not on my watch.”
Her gaze meets mine, and there’s something there—something raw and unguarded that makes my chest tighten. “Why?” she whispers. “Why do you care so much?”
Because you’re mine, I want to say. Because the thought of anyone hurting you makes me see red. But I don’t. Instead, I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Because you’re worth it,” I say simply. “And a man’s got to fight for what he believes in every now and again to prove he’s worth his salt.” I smile, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
“I feel like I’ve been claimed,” she giggles.
“You have, baby. You can count on that. ” And then I pull her close, holding her like I’ll never let go.