Chapter Thirteen
SLOANE
MARLEY’S BIG blue eyes are looking at me like there’s nothing unusual or wrong with asking me to go into town with her brother to pick up a Christmas tree.
Just the two of us.
What am I supposed to say? I don’t think it’s a good idea because every time we’re alone, I want to climb on top of him and ride him like one of your horses.
She and Mason are looking at me expectantly as I try to think of a reason to get out of it that doesn’t sound weak or stupid. At this point, my hesitation looks stupid and, by the look on Marley’s face, suspicious.
Jerk face, the most adorable jerk face in the world, is standing next to her and smirking innocently at me with an arched eyebrow.
Forcing a smile, I say, “Sure, let me get my coat.”
The ride into the neighboring town is quiet, the sky is cloudy, and the weatherman predicted snow for this afternoon. Mason’s big truck is so spacious inside that it’s easy to keep a large distance between us.
But that doesn’t mean that his familiar spicy and manly smell isn’t invading my senses and reminding me of every time he’s touched me. Memories of his naked chest, arms and wrists keep passing through my thoughts.
I keep my gaze on the scenery outside the passenger window, my palms tucked between my knees.
As we pass by the horseracing track, I notice there are so many cars that they are parking in the grass close to the horse stables. I didn’t think the horses race in this type of weather. Maybe the track is being used for something else this weekend.
The Christmas tree lot is a sea of green with trees of every shape and size to choose from. When Mason puts the truck in park, he says, “Wait there.”
The part of me that is angry with him for his comment about us not being able to get any closer wants me to open the door and get out. To prove to him that I don’t need his fake chivalry.
I knew when he took me to his hotel room that it was just sex, I get it, but I guess after seeing him every day I’ve become fond of having him around.
I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t sting a little when he voiced that we couldn’t get any closer than just sex.
I just need to remind myself that’s all I am to him, that’s all I’ll ever be to him.
Unable to help myself, I push the door open and hop out just as he gets around the front of the truck. I don’t need chivalry from a man who is just using it for an endgame.
I know, I’m a total hypocrite.
He comes to a stop next to the tire as I push the door closed, I pull my stocking cap over my ears and mumble, “I got it.” I don’t look at him as I walk past him.
His lips tip up and he waits for me to walk past him into the sea of trees.
“So, what are we looking for?” I ask as we walk down a lane of evergreens.
Instead of his usual work boots that he wears in the barns, he has on military boots with his jeans. Combined with the Carhartt work coat and his ball cap, he looks even bigger and hot as hell.
I wish he didn’t have this effect on me.
His head moves slightly in my direction, but I can’t see his eyes behind his aviators. “Marley likes them tall and fluffy.”
I nod my head, and we walk in silence as we look over each tree that we pass.
After a short while, he says, “What about you?”
Pausing to look at a tree, I let the aromatic evergreen limb slip from my hand as I continue walking, “What about me, what?” I’ve been avoiding looking at him as much as possible and keep my eyes on the trees.
The path is suddenly blocked, and I whip my head to see him standing in front of me. “You’re mad at me.”
What do I say? Do I look for a resolution for the anger and hurt that I feel from his comment yesterday, or do I deny and hold him at arm’s length until he leaves?
I have no right to ask anything of him, not even for what will probably be a fake balm to the sting his words left. There is no reason to pretend anything with him, we’re nothing to each other, staying angry will probably make everything easier, especially when he goes back to work.
Convincing myself to appear indifferent, I take a deep breath, “There’s nothing to be mad about, let’s just get this over with so I can go back to work.”
He takes his sunglasses off and folds them, his blue eyes never leave mine, and for several moments he is quiet. His eyebrows pinch together for just a second and then his jaw ticks like he is battling with himself about something. “About what I said last night.”
Rolling my eyes, I try to step around him, “Don’t worry about it.”
His arm shoots out in front of me and his hand is on my hip, pulling me closer and making me tip my head back. His face softens, “I am worried about it. I didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did, I don’t think of you as a convenience. In any way.”
All the air in my anger balloon starts to leak out and I shrink a little, the warmth in his eyes almost looks like affection, I can’t think of him like that. All I can do is nod.
“Am I forgiven?” His voice is soft and the little voice in my head that craves closeness, and a normal life is screaming ‘YES’.
For some reason tears prick my eyes, the emotion surprising me, and all I want to do is lean into him, into his strength, for just a minute. Just a minute to feel like a normal woman talking to a man. I look away and blink back the tears as I remind that desperate little voice just who we are.
Clearing my throat, my voice just above a whisper, “Yes. Please don’t worry about it.”
He doesn’t take his hand off my hip and I can feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of my face. I refuse to look at him and wait a few moments before I push his hand down and walk on. There is a sigh behind me and in a few more steps, he’s next to me again.
On the way back to the ranch, Mason pulls into the gas station across from the horse track, “I need gas, do you need anything?”
My mouth is dry from what seems like a heavy cloud of emotion hanging over me and not talking for the last hour. “I’m thirsty, I’ll go in while you pump.”
Thoughts of every kind crowd my head as I walk into the small store, it’s an older building, and it’s obvious it’s been here as long as the horse track.
The refrigerated section is against the back wall and is not very big, so I stand there for a minute looking for my usual papaya green tea, but I don’t see anything but soda and iced coffee.
“Sloane?”
My heart jumps into my throat at the sound of that voice, a cool frost settles over me making my hair stand on end, and my hands start shaking. Slowly I turn around and see Austin standing at the end of the food rack, my heart is beating so hard and so fast that it sounds like I am under water.
The sudden rush of blood and adrenaline almost makes me dizzy and I reach out to touch the food rack next to me.
His eyes narrow and I can see the hatred in his eyes, his voice is muffled behind the blood rushing in my ears when he says, “People have been looking for you.”
I take a step back and he takes a step forward, of course he would be where any type of gambling is happening. The way out of the store is behind him, and I look around to calculate every possible escape plan.
He chuckles and my eyes snap back to him, “Oh, no you don’t, you won’t get away this time.”
Swallowing around my heart in my throat, I choke down the sob that is trying to make me break down and try to calm myself. I just have to get out the door and walk to Mason’s truck, Austin won’t chase me or try to grab me with an audience.
Right?
I’m gambling that Mason won’t let him.
I take another step back, but Austin takes a step toward me for each step I take to back away from him. When I get to the end of the food rack, I turn and walk as fast as I can up the next aisle to the door.
“Fuck.” Austin curses under his breath.
I don’t look back; I do the fast walk, run-a-step combo up the aisle to the door, his footfalls behind me.
When I burst through the door, the cold air hits me in the face and I quickly step off the curb so I can get to Mason’s truck, I try to be as casual as possible because I don’t want him to see Austin chasing me.
I’m also gambling that Austin won’t touch me out in the open. There are other people at the pumps and cars line the front of the store. Almost like he can sense me, Mason looks over his shoulder at me as he secures the pump back in its cradle.
His eyebrows knit together as he looks over my face and I try to hide the fear he is probably seeing, but I can’t hide the short breaths that are puffing out in front of me in the cold air, then his gaze moves over my shoulder and his eyes narrow.
In a split second, I see him transform, he goes from the easygoing Mason that I see every day to a hardass warrior that seems to grow in size in front of my eyes.
The look on his face is lethal and his hands curl into fists at his sides.
I reach the front of the truck just as Mason rounds the fender to meet me, he grabs my hand, surprisingly his touch is gentle even though his face is hard as stone, and pulls me next to him, “Get in the truck and lock the doors.” His eyes are on Austin, his body taunt and ready to fight.
When I shut the door, I click the lock button and look out the front window. Austin is backing away as he looks at Mason, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and just as he holds it up to his ear he looks at me and smiles before he goes back into the store.
Tapping my fingers against my lips as I keep watch on the front doors of the store, I forget that I locked the truck doors. Tapping on the window pulls me out of my panic and I jump. I look over and Mason is standing at the locked door, his hand on the handle.
Shit.
Pushing the unlock button with shaking fingers, I try to think of what I’m going to tell him, still keeping my eyes on the front of the store. Austin was calling someone, we need to get out of here.
I’m a horrible liar, I have to keep it as close to the truth as possible. After he gets in the driver’s seat and shuts the door, he turns to look at me.
“Who was that?”
Turning my head toward him for a second before I look for Austin at the store again, I think of the first thing that might be believable and close to the truth, “That’s my brother and I owe him money.”
Technically, I don’t really owe him money, but he is associated with the people who are out a large sum because I ran.
He doesn’t move to start the truck and I’m buzzing with the fear of them showing up here. I can’t get a read on him, he’s schooled his features to betray nothing as he looks over my face.
Cocking his head to the side a little, he says, “I take it you and your brother are not on good terms?”
Shaking my head, I quickly glance around the parking lot to see if any men in suits are around. “No, he doesn’t like me very much.”
Trying to behave as low-key, close to casual as I can, I think I might look like a lunatic to Mason. Now he’ll just want me off his ranch because I’m a crazy person.
The car behind us saves me when it honks for Mason to leave the pump, he continues to study my face for a moment before he starts the truck and we pull away from the pump.
“Just tell me if there is anything I need to know,” he finally says after we get a couple of miles down the road.
Trying not to look obvious, I look in the side mirror to see if there are any black SUVs behind us. I glance in his direction and then down to see what he is looking at, and I have both of my hands balled into fists in my lap. I quickly open them and wipe my palms down my jeans.
“He’s not a nice person and I just try to keep my distance from him.” I know it sounds lame, but I’m so frazzled that I couldn’t look or sound smooth right now if I tried.
The rest of the drive back to the ranch is quiet as I chew my thumbnail and watch the scenery fly by out the window. The adrenaline and fear are making me nauseous and I’m wondering if I just put a target on the family.