Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Noah and Ryker invited what sounded like the entire starting lineup of their old football team to the house last night. They drank and laughed and exchanged crude jokes until somewhere near dawn when Dad finally came home and kicked them all out.
I, on the other hand, spent the night locked in my room with noise-canceling headphones, trying not to think about the robed figure at the Springs or the last thing Ryker said to me in the Blazer about needing to let loose.
Once the sun came up, I groggily transitioned to setting up my new tomato trellises and anger-gardened all morning. Hours later, I’m still out here, aggressively trimming damaged pepper plants and haphazardly ripping up weeds by their roots. Only now, instead of sleep-deprived images of the eclipse floating through my mind, I keep seeing shadows move in the forest—specifically around the path I’ve refused to acknowledge for the past fourteen years.
Readjusting the bandana around my neck, I yank out some more weeds and toss them into my compost pile before driving my gloved hands back into the dirt.
The most annoying part about this whole thing is that when I do manage to shift my thoughts away from the shadows, it’s once again Ryker’s stupid face that pops into my head. Then it only takes a second for me to start thinking about the way his rough hands felt on my bare back. How his fingers dug into me when he gripped my waist…
Sweat drips down my spine, and I close my eyes, imagining it’s Ryker’s touch trailing across my skin?—
My eyes shoot open. Nope.
Thank God he’s leaving soon. He makes me feel… off balance . Like I’m constantly walking on a tightrope and one wrong move will send me plummeting into the abyss.
Okay, that might be a bit dramatic, but still, Ryker needs to go.
I let loose a frustrated sigh and swipe my sleeve across my sweaty forehead, flinching when something hard smacks me on the mouth. I glance at the dirt-covered object in my hand, cursing as I realize I pulled out more than half my carrots. Dammit. They weren’t even fully grown yet…
With a growl rumbling low in my chest, I rise to my feet and kick over the metal pail holding my gardening tools. Leaving them scattered on the grass, I fill up the newly emptied container with the carrots and other discarded remnants of my gardening massacre.
Looks like the Crowes’ goats are getting an extra special treat today.
The sweltering breeze picks up, and a rustling sound draws my attention to the ground where a piece of crumbled, yellowing paper is trapped under one of my small shovels. Crouching, I pick it up, my brow furrowing as I read the two handwritten sentences.
A shudder racks through my body, the scarred skin on my back pulling taut as I stand and look for any sign of where this came from. My logical brain knows this note isn’t for me. It’s just a random piece of trash the wind blew in, but that doesn’t stop the uneasy feeling weighing on my shoulders from spreading.
Over the fence, the horses whinny, kicking at the dirt until a brown plume of dust lingers in the air. The hairs on my neck rise as a shadow moves in my periphery.
What the hell ? —
An ear-splitting scream tears from my throat when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“Whoa there, easy now.” Old Man Dan chuckles, backing up a step with his weathered hands raised in surrender.
I clutch my chest and exhale a sigh of relief. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem, darlin’,” he says, giving me a quick side hug. “I should’ve known better.”
I hug him back, breathing in the deep woodsy scent of his cologne. Wait, that’s not right. Mr. Crowe always smells like a mixture of hay, horse, and sunbaked leather after long hours in the saddle under the Texas sun.
Pulling away, I scan his outfit, my eyebrow quirking at the opalescent buttons of his pale-blue western-style dress shirt and the clean brim of his pinched-front Stetson.
“You’re looking mighty dapper, Old Man. What’s the occasion?”
His gray beard twitches, the visible portions of his ebony cheeks flushing with a ruddy smile at my compliment. “Me and the missus were plannin’ on headin’ over to Rib Cage for supper before fireworks in the square, but Elanor isn’t feeling too well.”
My brow creases. “What fireworks—” Damn. I forgot today is the Fourth of July…
Well into their late seventies, the Crowes have steadily slowed down over the past few years, but they’ve never missed the celebration in the Old Town Square. If Elanor’s opting out this year, she must really be feeling under the weather.
“I’m sorry to hear she’s not feeling well. Is there anything I can do for you guys?”
“That’s what I came here to talk to you about.” He takes off his hat, spinning it in his slightly shaky hands. “We’ve had a few incidents around the ranch lately.”
My hackles rise. I’ve never known Old Man Dan to mince words or beat around the bush before, but the way his eyes dart back and forth across the landscape, lingering a second too long on the forest, is making me nervous. “What do you mean incidents ?”
“Disturbances with what’s left of the herd—some of the cattle and a few of Mrs. Crowe’s goats wandering off. That sort of thing.” He looks left and then right before lowering his voice. “We found a few animals with missin’ parts…”
“ Missing parts ?” I lean away, all at once horrified and confused. “Have you told my dad or filed a police report?”
“I have, but that’s not why I’m here.” He spins his hat again. “You remember how I said we didn’t have the budget to hire you for more hours this summer?”
I frown, the sting still too fresh. “Yes, sir. I understand, though.”
“Well, about that. I was wonderin’ if maybe you’d mind taskin’ ’ round the ranch with the missus? It’d be three to four days a week instead of the two you’ve been doin’, and quite a bit more hours.”
Wide-eyed, I nod enthusiastically. “Absolutely.”
Without consistent access to transportation, I’ve been shit out of luck finding another job, making saving up for a car near impossible. This is exactly the sort of opportunity I need to check off number one on my bucket list.
“Hold on now, I haven’t told you the rest of it,” Old Man Dan says with a nervous smile. “Instead of feedin’ the animals and muckin’ out the stalls, you’d be escortin’ Mrs. Crowe while she checks on the hands and the fences, that sort of thing. I hate the idea of her out on her own with that hip of hers, and that stubborn woman of mine refuses to take a ranch hand with her.”
I bounce on my toes. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” Old Man Dan beams, popping his hat back onto his head. “That was easier than I thought. Let’s have you start a little earlier, too. Six sharp at the big house work for you?”
“I’ll be there.” I dip my chin, fighting off a massive grin.
“Great. Before I forget…” His smile disappears again. “Do you still have that pistol your pa gave you for your birthday last year?”
My left brow rises at the note of worry in his tone. “I do…”
“Good. Go on and bring it with you. Until we find out what’s happening to the animals, I wouldn’t want you caught out there unprotected.”
A chill skitters up my spine. I wonder if whatever’s been hunting the Crowes’ livestock is what I kept seeing in the shadows today…
“I can do that.”
“Excellent, see you tomorrow, then.”
Not one for a drawn-out goodbye, Old Man Dan is already walking back toward the break in the fence when I remember the carrots and other garden scraps I’m carrying.
“Wait!” I shove the weird note in with the vegetables—it’s not like it was intended for me anyway—and jog over to hand Old Man Dan the bucket. “This is for the goats. ”
He smiles. “We sure are lucky you’re not leaving us in the fall, darlin’. I don’t know what your pa or Mrs. Crowe would’ve done if you’d decided to go away for school.”
I try to force a smile, but guilt weighs down the corners of my mouth.
With one last wave, I walk to my house, trying not to let my guilty conscience overshadow my excitement. It’s not like I’ve actually filled out the acceptance paperwork for UT or withdrawn from Tyler. And I’d need a car even if I was planning on staying local. This job is perfect for me, especially since Noah heads back to work next week and Isabel will be busy at the bar. At least now I’ll have someone to spend my days with.
The front door clicks closed behind me, a blast of icy air conditioning sending a wave of goose bumps cascading across my arms as I bend over to remove my boots. I’m so sweaty I can feel the dried salt on my tight skin, and if I don’t get to the toilet soon, there’s a good chance I might pee my pants.
I rush toward our only bathroom, but when I try the handle, it won’t budge.
What the hell? No one ever locks this door…
I put my ear to the wood, fists clenching at the faint hum of the shower on the other side.
Dammit.
Split into three compartments with two separate interior doors, the bathroom is set up in a way that allows for all three of us to get ready at the same time and retain our privacy. Noah can be brushing his teeth while I shower and Dad takes one of his hour-long toilet breaks. The only reason we’ve been able to make having one bathroom work as long as we have is because of our rule that the outer door always stays unlocked.
I pound my fist against the frame, but there’s no answer.
“Noah,” I bark in the direction of my brother’s room. “Your dickhead friend locked the bathroom and I have to pee! ”
With the shower still running, the door swings open, sending a hot blast of honeysuckle-scented steam billowing into my face.
“What did you say about my dick, Princess?”
My eyes go wide.
Jesus. Christ. He’s so… wet .
After witnessing a shirtless Ryker at the Springs, you’d think I’d be immune to his physique, but there’s something infinitely more intimate about seeing him with just a tiny towel draped around his waist…especially when I know he’s not wearing anything beneath.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Can I help you? I’m sort of in the middle of something here,” he says, water dripping over every surface of his chiseled body.
Thankfully, the snark in his tone is enough for me to remember my anger. Cheeks flushed, I push past him, inhaling another whiff of honeysuckle.
I stop in my tracks. “Are you using my body wash?”
Ryker shrugs, nearly losing his grip on the towel in the process. He grins like the Cheshire Cat when he catches me staring. “Like what you see?”
After peeling my gaze away from the additional inch of skin around his waist—and away from all the veins and muscles leading south — my throat constricts.
“Of course not,” I say, voice hoarse and somehow slightly squeaky. “I’m just curious why you’re using my stuff when Noah and Dad have plenty of?—”
Ryker takes a step forward, pressing me into the wall with his wet chest mere inches from my face.
“Maybe I enjoy smelling you on me.” His voice drops dangerously low. “Maybe I used your body wash because I wanted to pretend it was your slender fingers wrapped around my cock instead of my fist.”
My breath catches in my throat. He’s fucking with me, right? He has to be, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining the scene he described: me in the shower with him, his hand covering mine as he shows me exactly how he likes to be touched…
My heart pounds so violently against my ribs it makes me dizzy.
Ryker smiles, like he can see the obscene image my brain conjured and can hear my racing pulse.
“ Or …” he leans closer, the water from his raven hair dripping onto my cheek while I struggle to draw in a full breath, “maybe I just grabbed the wrong fucking bottle of soap.” He straightens his posture with a sardonic laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Princess. It was an accident.”
“ Asshole ,” I seethe. Pushing off the wall, I stomp toward the toilet and slam the door behind me to hide my rapidly heating ears.
God, he’s infuriating.
After quickly using the restroom and waiting a few extra seconds to make sure I don’t run into Ryker again, I march over to the sink and wash up as fast as possible—which is why I don’t notice the door to the shower was left partially open until I start drying my hands.
I grip the towel tighter. That little shit is using my body wash again, I can smell it.
Ready to tear him a new one, I turn toward the door and catch a flash of skin through the fogged-up glass that might be his wrist or maybe even his?—
My stomach tightens. Oh my God…
Ryker wipes away a window of steam so I can see the devilish smirk plastered across his stupid mouth. “If you’re not coming in, do me a favor and shut the door on your way out.”
Hours later, I find myself curled up on the couch in my pajamas, struggling to get into the book Isabel lent me. It’s not a bad story, I just can’t relate to these cookie-cutter characters, and I can’t seem to get on board with the light and fluffy atmosphere. Where’s the angst and the tension? Where’s the touch of alluring darkness threatening to pull you under with every page flip?
The porch creaks, and my head snaps to the entryway.
“Ryker?” Noah calls out, shutting the door and pocketing his phone. “Marco just got off work at the hardware store. Are you still trying to get a hold of Kane or are you ready to go?”
Bootsteps sound from the hallway, followed by a deep, smoky voice and a hint of honeysuckle that makes my blood boil. “Good to go.”
I peek up from my book as Ryker rounds the corner, wearing the same form-fitting jeans and hawk moth belt buckle he had on the day he arrived. He at least had the decency to borrow one of Noah’s clean white T-shirts, but the one-size-too-small fabric hugs his biceps in a way that’s almost sinful.
Swallowing the tightness in my throat, I force myself to look away, catching the slightest flash of another one of Ryker’s arrogant grins, like he thinks I was checking him out instead of plotting my revenge for the body wash.
“You coming to Rib Cage with us, Princess?”
More than ready to say no, I’ve just scrunched my face up into a mocking smile when number seven on my bucket list pops into my mind: Stop hiding. Go out more.
My exaggerated smile falters. What am I going to do, say no every time someone invites me out next semester? If I end up going to UT, how many times can I opt to stay in for the night before Isabel finally gives up on me?
Ryker’s invite definitely wasn’t genuine, but Rib Cage is technically a barbecue joint that just so happens to be attached to the oldest bar in the region. I normally spend the Fourth of July on my porch, watching the fireworks from a distance, but I could go with them…if I wanted to.
I chew my lower lip. Isabel is working tonight… If I went, I could hang out with her and make sure Noah doesn’t get himself into too much trouble .
I release my lip, ignoring the way Ryker’s gaze zeroes in on my mouth.
Face twisting into a scowl, my brother takes the slightest step away from Ryker. “Dude, give it a rest already. She doesn’t want to?—”
“I’ll go.” I rise to my feet, setting my book down on the coffee table. “I need a few minutes to get ready, but I’ll drive if you wait.”
Noah lifts a brow, his expression hovering between surprise and skepticism. “You sure? There’ll be a lot of people there, and I can’t take you home early if I’m drinking.”
My stomach squirms as I try to decide if he’s worried about me or just doesn’t want me to go… “I’m sure.”
Ten minutes later, I’ve changed into a sleeveless black denim romper; a pair of black leather cowboy boots with silver embellishments on the toes, heels, and pull straps; and of course, my favorite green fringe jacket—which still has a hole in the sleeve from Beau. I probably should’ve worn red, white, and blue, but once again, I’d forgotten it was the Fourth of July until I was already dressed.
After spending the day gardening in the sun, I opt for light makeup that not only makes my brownish-hazel eyes pop, but will also play to my benefit under the unforgiving neon-orange lights inside the bar. All in all, I’m ready in twenty minutes. I would’ve been done sooner, but letting my hair air dry after my shower meant my curtain bangs were in need of a good flat-ironing. It’s still a little messy, but at least the light hints of red that only come out in summer are finally starting to peek through again.
“Ready,” I announce, my boots clicking on the worn hardwood floors as I tie the red bandana I laced with lemon-scented essential oil around my neck.
Noah stands abruptly from the kitchen table and shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Your entire ass is hanging out of that thing. Go change. Now .”
It’s my first time wearing this thrifted romper, so for a second I’m nervous, but when my hands fly to the crease of my butt to check for coverage, I find the length more than appropriate .
Rolling my eyes, I snatch the Blazer’s keys off the entryway table and glance over my shoulder. “You two comin’ or what?”
Noah looks at my romper one more time, groaning as he heads for the pile of shoes by the door. “Whatever. Just walk behind me so I don’t have to see that shit.”
I bite back a laugh. “Deal.”
Ryker ambles up to Noah’s side, head cocked in my direction as he leans against the doorframe. His eyes drop to my boots before he slowly works his gaze up the length of my legs, sliding over the curve of my hip like an intimate caress.
Blinking slowly, he shakes his head. “Goddamn shame.”
“What is?” Noah grunts, hopping on one foot while aggressively shoving the other into his boot. Once both his feet are on the ground, he follows the direction of Ryker’s stare.
Red-faced, he thrusts two fingers into his best friend’s chest. “Not funny, dude.” Ryker bats him away, but Noah shoves his fingers right back where they were. “I’m serious. Keep your eyes, hands, and jokes to your goddamn self.”
“Fine,” Ryker grumbles.
Noah whirls on me. “I told you that outfit was too short. Go get in the damn car.”
I scurry past them, leaving the front door open behind me as I dash across the driveway.
“I mean it, man,” Noah whisper-yells after they step out onto the porch. “Willa has a hard enough time with the assholes in this fucking town as it is. She’s not a toy for you to taunt or fuck with.”
When I glance over my shoulder, Ryker’s eyes flash to mine for the briefest second. “She’s not a kid anymore. She can fight her own battles?—”
I flinch as Noah slams the door.
“No, she fucking can’t,” he shouts, the air vibrating with his ire. “You haven’t been here. You have no idea what it’s been like for her—or for me.”
Ryker puts his hands up, and then tentatively reaches out to squeeze my brother’s shoulder. “Alright, I get it. I was just having a little fun. I’ll back off.”
Having heard enough, I throw myself inside the Blazer, a boiling pressure between my ribs making my chest rise and fall in rapid succession. My hands shake as I turn over the engine and grip the steering wheel.
Noah’s wrong. Not only can I fight my own battles, but I’m more than capable of going head to head with Ryker fucking Bennett.