Chapter Twelve
Bix took to her new job as head of their brewing arm with relish. While she worked on getting the practicalities set up, he
applied for a liquor license for the ranch. They were projected to have their barn done as an event space in the next two
months. They wanted to be ready also to serve alcohol and food, and it would be even better if they could serve their own
alcohol.
And of course, since Daughtry was involved everything was going to be aboveboard. He didn’t know what it was about Bix that
made him confide in her. Because that was what he’d done last week. When they had spoken about the way he helped his dad collect
on debts, he had pretty well told her more about it than he ever had another person. He saw himself in her.
She was younger, angrier. But he had been both of those things at one time.
He was in a different place now. Settled.
She would have that eventually too.
She was getting it. And he was proud that he was playing a part, even if a small one, in that.
The way she had looked at her debit card at the bank...
It made his chest sore to think about it. He couldn’t explain his connection with her. The only way he could explain it was by identifying the ways in which they were alike. The ways in which he saw himself.
A kid without a chance.
That’s what Bix was.
She’s not a kid.
Yeah. Well. He walked across the gravel in front of the outbuilding where Bix had set up her brewing station. He could hear
voices, talking and laughing. She had a whole crew assembled to work with her. Four men, and a woman, and they all seemed
to get along great.
One of the guys was young, close to her age. He had been doing basic labor work, but he knew a lot about beer, and Bix had
been keen to have him on the team.
When Daughtry opened the door, he saw Bix standing close to the young guy, and the two of them were laughing.
He looked up at Bix, a glint of humor in his eye. Flirtation.
Daughtry’s stomach twisted.
He didn’t like that. That guy was a player. He had it written all over him. And Bix was not to be played with.
Mine .
He pushed that thought to the side. That was caveman shit. She wasn’t his.
Yes, he felt an attraction to her, but that wasn’t anything he was going to act on. It was... nothing. It was just a side
effect of them being a man and a woman in proximity to each other and...
And he wanted to punch that guy in his fucking teeth.
“I’ll see you tonight then,” the guy—his name was Michael; Daughtry did know that—said to Bix.
“Yeah,” Bix said, her cheeks turning a shade of pink Daughtry had never seen before.
“I’ll swing by and pick you up at seven.”
“Okay.”
Michael tipped his hat to Daughtry. “Afternoon, boss.”
“Afternoon,” Daughtry said, curling his lip, the word coming out more like a growl than he intended it to.
If Michael noticed, he didn’t indicate it. Instead, he kept on walking out the door.
“Daughtry, is there a place in town where I can buy makeup?”
That killed the What the hell was that? that had been on his lips.
“I... don’t know.” He blinked. “I assume you can get some down at the general store. Maybe.”
He couldn’t rightly say if it would be any good, but he had no idea about that sort of thing.
“Maybe I’ll just find out if I can borrow something from Rue or Arizona.”
“Why?”
“Oh. Michael asked me on a date. We’re going out to Smokey’s tonight?”
She looked giddy. And he thought about what she had told him. She wanted to dance. She wanted to have a boyfriend that she
could break up with, so that she could let him go for the greater good of her education.
Maybe she saw Michael as potentially being that boyfriend.
He didn’t like it. At all.
“Bix, how well do you know him?”
“As well as I know anybody.”
Well, that was bullshit. She lived with Daughtry. She knew him better than that. “I see. And what is your plan?”
She blinked. “To go on a date with him?”
“But to what end?”
Her face got pinker. “I don’t know, Daughtry. I hadn’t really thought it through. Maybe a kiss. Maybe sex.”
“Oh. Great. Are you just going to put a tie on the door of your bedroom?”
“I don’t know. What’s your plan if you ever bring a woman home?”
His blood felt too hot. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of it.
She’s Bix.
She’s like a stray dog.
Well, that was both bullshit and insulting bullshit all rolled into one.
“I don’t have to make a plan. It’s my house.”
“Oh. Really? You have to make a plan. Great. I guess maybe someday I’ll just walk in and find you having an amorous liaison
on your living room floor.”
Her face had gone to scarlet.
“That won’t happen, because I’m not irresponsible like that.”
“Excuse me? Are you implying that I’m irresponsible? Because I’m going to a bar with a man that I—”
“You’re his superior. His boss. It’s inappropriate.”
Bix looked at him, her blue eyes flat. She spread her hands wide. “Are you concerned that I’m taking advantage of him, Daughtry?”
“Well, you do have to be mindful about these things,” he said, barely getting the words out around his gritted teeth.
“Oh. Well. Thanks for letting me know. I will be sure to be extra mindful. Is there a form I should submit to human resources?
Oh wait. You don’t have a human resources department, you just have a dumb fucking attitude.”
“Wait a second,” he said. “Why am I the bad guy just because I want to take care of you? That’s what I’ve been doing since
you got here, and you’ve been fine with it as long as it was in the form of food and shelter.”
“I was fine with it as long as it wasn’t high-handed and unreasonable. This is about my personal life. I’m allowed to have
one. I’m not... I am not a stray dog that you took in. I’m a woman, and if I want to go on a date...” Her eyes filled
with tears, and it made him want to retreat. Because that was just weird as hell. “Why am I not allowed to go on a date? I’m
not a raccoon. I’m not a child. If he wants me, then why can’t I go out with him?”
It was a good question. And there was no reason. Except that he felt absurdly possessive of her, and he had no call to it. It had nothing to do with attraction. Ever since that dance Bix hadn’t seemed fazed by him in the least. Like it had passed with the moment—and it sure as hell should have.
He just didn’t like Michael. That was all.
“He just strikes me as the kind of guy who does these things casually,” he said.
And that was true.
“Maybe I’m not in the market for anything but casual,” she said.
“Bix, I worry about you.”
“ Daughtry , I navigated a whole scary world without you in my life for twenty-three years. Do you think men never hit on me?”
And he could see that there was definitely a wrong answer to that question. “I...”
“They do,” she said.
Hesitation was apparently wrong.
“And here I am. Just fine. Do you not remember when you found me? I was willing to stab you. And you wouldn’t be the first
man that I’ve stabbed.”
“I wouldn’t?”
“No. I can take care of myself. I appreciate... I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But now I work here. I have
a job. I am earning my keep and pulling my weight and all of that. You’ll get to treat me like... you’ll get to treat me
like that.”
“I’m sorry...”
She shook her head. “Just forget it.”
She stomped out of the barn, and left him standing there, feeling like a villain. Which wasn’t fair because he wasn’t being
a villain; he was being protective.
He let out a hard breath. She was impossible. That was the problem.
And she didn’t make any sense.
He stood there in the doorway, looking at the blank space where Bix had once been.
She was the problem. She didn’t make any sense.
He repeated that to himself all the way back to his place, and then back to his brother’s place.
“I didn’t know you were intending to come for dinner tonight,” said Denver, sticking his wallet in his back pocket, and grabbing
his keys off the table.
“I... I usually do,” he said.
“Not tonight. Anyway, Justice and I were going out.”
“Where?”
“To Smokey’s,” said Denver.
Daughtry never went to Smokey’s. But that was where Bix was going to be tonight. That little asshole was picking her up at
seven o’clock.
“I’ll go with you,” said Daughtry.
Denver looked at him with deep skepticism. “Why?”
“Because I want to,” he said.
“No offense, Daughtry, but I don’t know that we need the police around tonight.”
“Maybe I want to have a good time,” said Daughtry.
“Why don’t I believe that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re bound and determined to misinterpret everything that I do.”
He was being dishonest. He knew it.
With everybody.
He gritted his teeth.
“Great. Come then.”
“I will.”
“Put on something nicer than that.”
Well there. Maybe Daughtry would meet somebody tonight. Maybe he’d bring somebody home. It would be perfect. Especially if
Bix went off with Michael.
Mine.
“Great. Come around the house in about ten minutes,” said Daughtry.
“I will.”
She wasn’t his. Maybe tonight he’d find someone else, and remind himself of that good and well.
Bix would have felt entirely giddy if not for the interaction she had with Daughtry earlier. She was just so mad at him. She
didn’t understand why he had to be that way. She had been... blindsided by Michael asking her out. Mostly because while
men definitely did hit on her, it was rare that they were cute, age appropriate and didn’t seem like what they really wanted
to do was plant drugs in her car.
Michael checked a lot of boxes. Handsome. Not trying to make her an unwitting mule.
Maybe they were low standards, but she was okay with that.
She would’ve thought that Daughtry would be... maybe not happy for her, but proud. Wasn’t she doing something functional?
Normal?
You have condoms in your bedside drawer, Sheriff.
That was what she wanted to shout at him. She would have too, if she had thought of it. It had occurred to her later, when she had been getting dressed, and had punctuated her soul with a glorious So there . Except, too bad she hadn’t actually said it to him.
She groused to herself as she went out to the front porch to wait for Michael.
Daughtry hadn’t come home.
She shouldn’t care what he was doing.
She was hurt. More than she had a right to be. It was just... she had wanted him to be proud.
Maybe that was weird. It was definitely weird. But he was this unobtainable thing. A man who had woken up a loneliness in
her. A need too. And she wasn’t foolish enough to think that he could actually fill it. Or that he would want to. Now, she
wasn’t even dumb enough to think that Michael was going to do that. She just had wanted to go on a date. Because it was normal.
And she wanted to be normal. Wasn’t that okay? And wasn’t that what he was encouraging her to do?
She paced a small length of the porch, and finally, Michael appeared.
She grinned, and hopped down the steps, making her way to the truck.
Her heart gave a strange dip. She was going on a date.
It was absurd. And kind of neat.
She was wearing a dress; she felt like just a normal twenty-three-year-old. At least, what she imagined a normal twenty-three-year-old
might feel like—she didn’t really know where she could get confirmation on whether or not her experience was normal.
She opened the passenger door and got up into the truck. “Hi,” she said, overly cheerful.
“Hi yourself,” he said, smiling.
This was going to be fun. She was pretty sure.
Except, as they started driving away from the house, she realized that he didn’t really know anything about her, and he would
probably think she was weird if he did. Were they going to talk about themselves? What sorts of things was she supposed to
ask him? What were good date topics?
She didn’t want him to ask where she had gone to school, or what she had studied in college. She didn’t want him to start
asking questions that—if she were honest—she wouldn’t have very good answers for.
“How long have you been living in Pyrite Falls?” he asked.
Okay. That was a pretty innocuous question.
“About a month and a half.”
“And you live with Daughtry,” he said.
“Yeah,” she said, wondering if he was... jealous. “He’s kind of like an older brother.”
“I see. So he’s the one that brought you to work at the ranch?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling slightly relieved. “He told me there was a job opening, and so here I am.”
It was definitely evasive and for sure sidestepping the truth of the situation, but it was necessary. Because he could fill
in the blanks with something made up for now, something that was a little bit less weird than Daughtry found me squatting in the woods .
And then later she would be able to remind him that she had actually never lied to him.
Good plan.
“How about you?”
And that had been the right move, because the minute she asked about him, the floodgates open. By the time they got to Smokey’s
she knew that he was from Redding, California, and that he had dropped out of high school. She chalked that up as a point
to her, since technically she hadn’t graduated either.
He had an ex-girlfriend who had broken his heart, and had decided to come to Oregon to see if things would be better.
His ex was crazy.
Him saying that made Bix flinch. But, she supposed everybody had a dim view of their ex. She didn’t think that that particular
phrasing, and the fact that it was volunteered without her asking, was a pink flag.
But again, this was much more about having the experience than actually believing that Michael was perfect in some way. So
there.
He parked, and they got out. She looked around the parking lot, which was relatively full, and felt a sense of accomplishment.
That she was doing something so normal. This was clearly where the people of Pyrite Falls hung out. And she was part of the
hanging out.
She’d never been in these kinds of parking lots. Never been on the outside about to go in. She’d lived on fringes her whole
life. And the truth was, even living with her dad, she’d been alone.
Even when she’d been with her dad and her brother, there had been no loyalty. No trust. No... love.
She’d never ached for it, because she’d been too busy aching for food. She’d been too busy aching for security and shelter and safety.
Now she was about to be part of something. Something normal.
She wanted it.
Felt full to bursting with it.
Bix from a month and a half ago would’ve rejected this. She would have curled in on herself and said she didn’t need it. She
would have hidden away and said she didn’t need community or to fit in. She felt like she was learning different things about
herself. But it was amazing how much more expansive her feelings were now that she wasn’t simply in survival mode.
He grinned, and reached his hand out to her, taking it in his. She blinked, looking down at where their palms touched. With
their fingers locked together. Not that long ago, Daughtry’s hand had touched hers as he led her out to the dance floor. And
it had ignited a flame in her gut that hadn’t gone out.
She was hopeful, for a full thirty seconds, that this might stoke that fire. That maybe she was just starved for touch in
general, and this would help her out.
That Michael would be just as good as Daughtry. And some other guy down the line would be just as good as Michael. Normal, casual dating, casual touching and kissing. For a moment, she had a brief fantasy of that life. Of something breezy, that you might see on a TV show. A single woman cycling through a series of easy dates, learning how to navigate relationship waters without ever getting hurt too badly—or at least getting her deep enough that it couldn’t be solved by a pint of ice cream.
Except she didn’t feel anything. Except his skin. And just like that, the fantasy vanished.
How inconvenient.
Still, she didn’t pull away from him. She let him lead her into Smokey’s Tavern.
He pushed the door of the old wooden building open, and they went inside. It was dim, with a surplus of neon lighted signs,
a big old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. There were bright red vinyl-covered stools in front of a rough-hewn bar. It was
like a nineteen fifties diner had crashed into a country outpost. And somehow, she found it... well, fascinating. It smelled
like alcohol, and people were dressed their best.
There was a woman behind the bar with an ornate flower tattoo on her arm, her makeup strong, her dark hair teased big. She
was stunning and intimidating and looked like she’d cut someone if they messed with her.
Bix loved her instantly.
There were women in the corner with big curly hair and rhinestone belts. Cute tie-front T-shirts that showed off their belly
button rings and cleavage. Glittering cowgirls there to find a cowboy.
And right then, Bix felt drab. She didn’t have fake eyelashes or shiny lips. She didn’t have their easy confidence or easy,
seductive smiles.
She glanced at Michael. He was definitely looking at the group of women.
Her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the bar, and she looked around more broadly. There were just cowgirls on the prowl. There were cowboys.
Tall, broad and handsome, some less tall, less broad. Quite a few that were less handsome. But pretty much every single man
in there was a cowboy.
Either ranch hands from Four Corners, or the nearby ranches, and she had a feeling some had even come from elsewhere, since
she didn’t get the sense that the population of Pyrite Falls was quite this robust. But the whole area was rural, so it would
make sense that this would be a gathering place for people from neighboring communities as well.
Bix had never gotten to go to college. Hell, she’d never been to a day of real school in her whole life. But she felt like
she was in a sociology class right now. Studying a foreign culture that she knew nothing about.
There was flirting and talking and dancing. And she almost didn’t know where to look. “I’ll get you a drink,” said Michael.
“What do you like?”
She blinked. “Oh. A Coke.”
His eyes lifted. “A Coke?”
“Yeah. We deal with beer all day,” she said. “I don’t need any more.”
He laughed. “Suit yourself.”
Bix felt the back of her neck prickle, and she turned. At the corner to her back right were the King brothers. And right in
the center was Daughtry.
He was looking at her, his gaze intense.
What was he doing here?
Stupid question. He has condoms in his bedside table.
Yes. She knew that. Of course she did. She was, in fact, relatively obsessed with it. Was that why he was here? To hook up?
Was that...?
It made her feel small. Nervous and upset. And mostly, she found herself wanting to drift over to where he was. Wanting to
stake a claim. Wanting every woman in there to know that she... Well, she lived with him, didn’t she? She knew him. Maybe.
“Awkward.”
She turned at the sound of Michael’s voice.
“What?”
“Boss’s here. Also, like you said, he’s a bit like your brother. Not the best to have your brother in residence when you’re
trying to have a good time.”
Oh right. That lie. Like a brother.
“Let’s get a table.” He thrust her soda into her hands, and she followed him to the opposite corner from the Kings. She looked
down into her drink. “You want to dance?”
Immediately, she flashed back to dancing with Daughtry. She’d loved dancing with him. She’d always wanted to be asked to dance,
and now she was being asked two times within a month. But she didn’t feel giddy over Michael asking.
She felt happy, though. That had to count for something.
“Yes,” she said. “I would. Thanks for asking.”
She took a big sip of her soda, as if it was a source of liquid courage, and not the benign drink she had chosen for herself.
Then she took his hand again and let him lead her to the dance floor. The dance was fast, and fun, even though she didn’t
know what she was doing. And she found herself letting go of her worry about attraction and flyers and anything connected
to Daughtry. Because there was one thing she hadn’t really even thought about. That it was fun to just go out with a friend.
She realized that she was firmly of that mindset after only ten seconds of the song. Michael could be a friend. And that would
be fine. But as much as she wanted to experience dating and the normal parts of being twenty-three, she also didn’t want to
kiss or sleep with a guy she wasn’t into. She had let herself feel grim for a moment about the fact that Daughtry had stoked
something in her that Michael didn’t. But every man wasn’t going to be attractive to her. Every man wasn’t going to make sparks
go off in her stomach. It didn’t mean that Daughtry was the only one.
Daughtry was, in many ways just a training ground.
He was safe . That was the thing.
He was the first man she had been around while feeling secure. Daughtry was probably more a casualty of circumstance than
anything else.
And he’s hot.
Sure. There was also that. It was a fair enough observation, and one that she couldn’t deny. But again, not necessarily the only element of chemistry. There were plenty of good-looking men in the bar. And she had a pretty good instinct about people. Michael was nice, friend material. He wasn’t a dick. Dancing with him was a good time.
He didn’t try to put his hands anywhere he shouldn’t, and she felt safe the entire time. The song tripped over to something
slow, and Michael closed his hold, spinning her around so she was facing the other direction. And there was Daughtry.
Her heart slammed into her breastbone. Daughtry was dancing with one of the pretty, glittery women. She was older than Bix,
obviously, her hair cherry red, and so were her lips. She was wearing so much makeup. And her boobs were spilling out of her
top.
And her good, right and proper sheriff let his eyes dip, and looked straight down her top.
She felt appalled. Like she had just heard a priest swear in a church. At least, that was how she imagined she might feel
if she heard a priest swear in a church. Bix herself had never even been in a church for any reason other than to collect
food from one of the pantries. He has condoms in his bedside table.
The little voice inside her head was getting insistent and annoying.
I know that.
But knowing that and witnessing him looking at a woman’s breasts were two different things.
In spite of herself, she looked down. Her dress had a fairly demure neckline, but even if it didn’t, she wouldn’t have cleavage. The woman that he was dancing with was like a two-scoop ice cream cone, and Bix was a child’s serving. If that. It was maybe more fair to say that she was one of those little sample spoons.
She was very familiar with those. When she couldn’t afford ice cream she would just go in and sample flavors as long as they
would let her.
Yeah. Maybe she was just one of those.
“Bix?”
She looked up at Michael. “Huh?”
“You okay?”
“Fine. Just fine.”
Thankfully the music was loud so it was almost impossible to talk, but she did her best to keep her eyes more on Michael than
on Daughtry and partner.
They finished dancing, and went back to their table. Daughtry and his mysterious redhead kept on the dance floor. Michael
and Bix ordered fried pickles and a basket of JoJos. They made shallow conversation about the beer, and Bix had a hard time
not staring at Daughtry.
And then Daughtry took the redhead’s hand and they walked out of the bar.
Bix felt like she was going to be sick.
“You okay?” Michael asked her for the second time that evening.
She tried to hold back a snarl, but she ended up sounding like a feral possum. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because Daughtry just left with somebody else.”
She curled her fingers tightly around her glass. “Well, so what?”
“Bix,” Michael said kindly, but a little bit like she was a child. “You have a crush on him.”
“I do not,” said Bix, but even she could hear the lack of conviction in her own voice.
“It’s okay. I mean, it makes sense. And makes me feel a little better about how not into this you are.”
She let out a low, hard breath. She felt like an asshole. And she also felt a little bit proud. Because she had never been
on a date with anybody, and she didn’t think she was what anybody could ever consider a heartbreaker. And here she had done
something a little bit... It was terrible to be pleased she was the one in the power position. The one who was wanted,
not doing the wanting.
But she was.
“I don’t want to have a crush on him,” she said. That was honest. “In fact,” she said, “I’m not entirely convinced that’s
what I have. I just... He helped me out during a really hard time. I think I might just be grateful.”
“You’re stuck on him either way, does it really matter why? You could make all kinds of arguments about that. Maybe I only
have a crush on you because you’re the first new woman to show up at the ranch in over a year.”
“That’s not very flattering,” Bix said, frowning.
“In fairness to me, neither is watching your date moon over another man the whole time.”
She grimaced. “Sorry.”
“The point is, it doesn’t really matter why. If the feelings are there, they are.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I like you. I wanted to feel something.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate it.”
He was being surprisingly decent, especially for a man who’d said his ex was crazy.
“What... did your ex girlfriend do to you?” she asked.
He frowned. “Why?”
“Curious.”
“She drove through the garden at my parents’ house and took out all of my mom’s flowers.”
“What did you do to her?”
“She thought I cheated on her because I talked to the checker at the grocery store for more than ten minutes one day.”
She blinked. “Did you?”
“She was sixty-five,” he said.
She cleared her throat. “I mean... did you?”
“No.”
Well, okay, she could see why he’d led with the info about his ex.
“Nothing is going to happen with me and Daughtry,” she said. “Here is the thing. He’s... Well, he’s older than me, first
of all. Second of all, he’s a police officer. I think he feels duty bound to help me. To be nice to me and all of that. He’s
a caregiver. It’s not like that for him.”
She felt so... small and sad. Here was a perfectly nice guy who liked her, and yet again, her dysfunction was making this difficult. Because she had probably imprinted on Daughtry or something because he was the first person who was nice to her, and that was probably the biggest reason that she felt all these things for him.
And she couldn’t take the nice, normal thing right in front of her because she was fixated.
“We can still hang out, Bix.”
Damn. He was nice. He wasn’t even getting creepy and being mean.
“Thanks,” she said. “I... Thanks. At least for listening to me. When I say that I’m from difficult circumstances, I mean
I don’t even have any friends. I don’t really know how to have them.”
“I do. So... I can help you with that.”
She was pretty sure that she sensed a little bit of relief in him all of a sudden. Like he finally got the sense that she
was kind of a project, and he didn’t actually want to be saddled with a huge project.
Well. Bully for her. She was able to make him feel good about her rejecting him. Not that she had actually even rejected him.
He had just been able to pick up on the vibes. Which were not settled vibes, in fairness.
They stayed for a while longer, and then left. The other King brothers were still there. Daughtry wasn’t.
She suddenly got tense as they got close to the house.
“What if he’s there ? With her .”
Michael shrugged. “If there’s a tie on the door or something, then I’ll take you somewhere else for a bit.”
“Thanks. I... Is that a thing? The tie on the door?”
Daughtry had said the same thing to her earlier, and she did not get the reference but she’d been too embarrassed to ask him what it meant.
He frowned. “Yeah. It’s kind of a joke, but I think it definitely originates as being something serious.”
She made a small sniffing sound. “I see. Just a pop-culture thing that I am not entirely up on.” She got that sense of relief
from him again. “I am a bigger project than you want,” she continued. “Seriously. I never even went to a regular school. I
don’t know a lot of things. I’m trying to become a real girl.”
“You’re real enough, Bix,” he said. Though, he did still seem a little bit relieved.
She held on to that, though.
Daughtry’s truck was in the driveway and she decided, with a burst of anger, that if he was there and there was no signal,
she was just going to go in.
You’re real enough, Bix.
Michael had given that to her. As a friend. And she really appreciated it, because she felt a little bit bruised, and it was
nice to have a friend.
“Are you sure you’re fine to go in?”
“I think so. I’ll wave you on unless they’re boning in the living room.”
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
She walked up to the front door and stopped, peering around. She didn’t see any clothing strewn about on the floors. No clear and obvious signs that Daughtry had a woman in there. But then, it was possible they had just taken themselves back to the bedroom. In which case, she was completely clear to walk into her own place of residence. Except of course the problem was, it didn’t really feel like hers; it felt like his.
And she didn’t really feel okay; she felt tragic because whatever the reason, she wanted him.
She curled her hands into fists, just for a second, then she turned and waved Michael off.
He waved back, and pulled out of the parking area. She opened the front door and slowly went inside.
She crept down the hall, listening. She heard water running. The shower.
Were they in the shower together?
She felt a strange, heavy sensation between her legs and a deeply upset feeling in her chest. It was the most confusing experience
of her life. She felt aroused thinking about him, naked in the shower, his hands moving over wet skin.
When she thought of that other woman, it made her feel like vomiting, and that was just awful.
She stomped into the kitchen and flung the fridge open. She took out the last piece of leftover pizza from the other night
and nuked it in the microwave. She had a moment where she paused just for a second to feel grateful that there were leftovers
in the fridge that she had access to. That she could easily reheat in the microwave. She wasn’t fishing and scaling a fish
and gutting it, trying her best to preserve it until she could start a fire.
Her chest cramped painfully when she thought of that fish.
When she thought of that girl .
That girl who was now... perilously close to weeping over what? A man?
A man.
What had men ever done for her?
Well. The King men had done quite a lot for her. It was true. But in the general sense, men were so much more trouble than
they were worth, and what the hell was the matter with her?
She gritted her teeth, blinked hard, fighting back angry tears.
He is nothing to me. Nothing. A friend at best.
“Bix?”
“Argh!” she screamed and turned around, and there was Daughtry standing in the doorway. Shirtless, a pair of gray sweatpants low
on his hips. Barefoot.
“Should I heat some more food up for you and your friend?” If she had been a raccoon she’d have been baring her teeth.
“What?” he asked.
“Are you done with her already? Didn’t realize you were a Minuteman, Daughtry.”
He frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t know what it means?” She held up her finger, pointing erect and straight at the ceiling, and then slowly let it
droop.
His eyes narrowed. “The hell, Bix?”
“You left with her.”
He looked confused for a second. “No, I didn’t,” he said. “I walked out to the parking lot at the same time she did.”
Bix blinked in confusion. “You didn’t... I mean... It looked like...”
“No,” he said. “I was just ready to leave and so was she.”
She felt enraged. Betrayed. Because she wasn’t crazy and he’d definitely left with her, and now he was acting like she was
making things up when she had been very upset and torpedoed her date that was already sucking. But she could blame him.
“You were holding her hand,” she pointed out.
“We know each other,” he said, with a maddening lack of real explanation.
“You know each other?” she echoed.
“Yes,” he said.
“I... You...” He didn’t casually hold her hand. Or any other woman’s. And for some reason she felt doggedly determined to prove she just wasn’t wrong. “You’ve slept
with her before, haven’t you?”
He frowned. “What does that have to do with...?”
“You have ,” she accused.
“I haven’t—” she nearly breathed a sigh of relief “—in the last year.”
Of course he’d slept with her before. She thought of how he’d held that woman when they’d danced. She was right for him. Tall,
confident. Closer to his age. The way he’d looked at her, and where he’d looked at her, had spoken of attraction. Certainly
an attraction he didn’t feel for Bix.
And why would he? He probably sees you as a rescue animal.
Her own thoughts wounded her.
“Right. So why didn’t you sleep with her tonight?” she asked.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you always want to,” he said.
She was under the impression men always wanted to. And he wasn’t making any sense.
“Whatever,” she said, jerking the microwave open and taking out her pizza.
“Where’s Michael?”
“We’re just friends,” she said, picking up the pizza and taking a vicious bite. Dammit. It was too hot. The cheese stuck to
the roof of her mouth, and it was like having a red-hot coal held against her flesh.
Argh .
She did her best to keep her face stoic.
“Is that a good thing or bad thing?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.
“Fine. My decision,” she said.
“Really?”
She shrugged. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you want to, Daughtry.”
She leaned against the counter and stuffed the rest of the pizza in her mouth, her eyes watering from the heat. She was determined
to not act bothered. But she had a feeling she only seemed more bothered as a result.
Bix felt itchy.
“So she’s your ex-girlfriend?” she asked, trying to make her tone casual.
“No,” he said, coming into the kitchen and jerking the fridge open. Her eyes slid to his body, to the play of muscles in his
biceps. The movement of his chest.
He was hot. He was so hot. And now she felt terminally distracted by it. By the glorious way his body was constructed. The way his skin played over his muscles. His pants rode so low she could see that deep-cut mark that seemed to form an arrow pointing down to...
She started breathing a little bit too fast. She couldn’t help it. He reached into the fridge and took out a beer.
“Just a hookup then?” she pressed.
“Not really. She was somebody that I used to see sometimes.”
“But not a girlfriend.”
“I’ve never had a girlfriend,” he said.
Her eyes went wide. “You what?”
“Never had one. I don’t do relationships.”
This was an out-of-body experience. Talking to him half-naked, in sweats while he was drinking a beer. About the kind of guy
he was when it came to relationships or the lack of them.
Not in uniform. Not above reproach.
“You don’t seem like that kind of guy,” she said.
“I’m not the kind of guy my brothers are. I don’t go out to the bar and pick up a different woman every night.”
“You just have... arrangements.”
“Yeah. I don’t know why this is of interest to you, but she sells vitamins. She used to come around to the ranch every few
months. We were part of her route that she was on. So she and I... used to see each other.”
“Fuck,” she said. “Used to fuck .”
“Yes,” he said.
And she could honestly say she had never been quite so aware of what that word meant as she was right now. She threw around hard language because it was a way for her to blend in. A way that she became part of the group with her dad or her brother and all the other men. But the truth was, she was blessedly, physically innocent, and because of that she had never really had to ponder the meaning of that word.
But when she said it in connection with Daughtry, it created a distressingly graphic series of images in her mind.
“We were friends too,” he said. “We are . As you can see, we are on good terms still.”
“So then why didn’t you sleep with her?”
“Why do you care?”
She was jealous. She was miserably, smally, horribly jealous.
It made her want to lash out.
So she did.
“I’m curious,” she said. “Only because you seem so sexless. It’s like when I found the condoms in your nightstand drawer.
It was just weird.”
That earned her a hard stare. He looked angry, and so sexy she had to press her knees together to manage the pulse that radiated
through her. “I’m sexless ?” he asked.
“Yep.” She wished she had more pizza so she could take another bite and stop herself from talking. “Like a cardboard cutout
of Captain America. Pretty but... you know. Cardboard.”
“Okay,” he said, turning and heading toward the doorway. He lifted his arm and tipped his beer bottle back, and the muscles on his back shifted. A mockery of what she had just said. And he didn’t stay and argue with her. He just left her there. Marinating in her misery and arousal. Her knowledge that he had arrangements, and that she was hopelessly, miserably attracted to him. And that he was completely out of her league.
Because what did that even mean? She had never kissed a man before. She had never wanted to.
“Can’t afford it,” she whispered to herself.
And the truth was, she still couldn’t.