Wait in the Truck (Black River Ranch #1)

SAGE

1

Desperation. It’s the only possible reason I’m hauling ass across a sticky-from-booze floor wearing nothing but a pair of Daisy Dukes, a tiny blue bikini top, and my favorite worn Ariat boots.

“How much for a night with you, sweet cheeks?”

“Marry me, Sage!”

“I’d bet you taste better than the stale beer they’re serving here, doll.”

Rolling my eyes, I push through the rowdy crowd while balancing a tray filled with beer mugs. This is a typical Saturday night at Boozin’ Boots, and for the most part I let their drunken remarks roll off my back because it’s all part of the job description. Ignoring the catcalls and whistles from the local farmers and ranchers, I remind myself of why I’m here. Money, Sage. You need the money .

Without warning, the volume of the music increases, along with the hoots and hollers of the crowd. That’s our cue. Needing to move ass, I draw in a deep breath and deposit the drinks on their respective tables with an exaggerated wink.

I hurry over to plunk my empty tray down a second before my coworker Brandy beckons to me with a quick wave of her hand. Plastering a grin on my face, I let her haul me onto the well-worn bar top with her and the other waitress, Cassidy. We’re about to shake our moneymakers— Coyote Ugly style. I hate this part of the evening, but according to Billy, the bar owner, giving the raucous crowd what they want is a surefire way to increase our tips. The lyrics of “Austin” by Dasha begin, and we fall in line, flawlessly executing the steps of the popular dance. Every eye in the room studies the twists and turns we make as we grapevine back and forth.

“Goddamn, I bet Sage could wrap those long legs around me twice!”

It takes everything in me not to tell whoever that was that he doesn’t have a chance in hell and not show my true feelings about their lascivious comment on my face. I put extra amps into my megawatt smile as we spin around toward the leering crowd.

We’re finishing a second round of the sequence when I pivot, turning my back to our overly excited audience. Hands grab at my ass, and I lose my footing. Before I know it, I’m tugged off the bar and onto some guy’s lap. Overcome by the scent of whiskey and foul body odor, I instinctively try to wiggle free from a pair of unwanted masculine arms, but they tighten around my waist.

He lowers his mouth to my ear, his hot breath coasting over my skin. Chuckling as I shudder in revulsion against him, he boasts loudly, “You may be a filly, but I’d ride you hard and put you away wet.”

Filled with disgust and unwilling to let his comment slide, I ram my elbow backward into his rib cage. He lets out a grunt, loosening his grip on me. A split second later, my boyfriend, Toby, appears, wrenching me from the man’s lap. As much as I’m grateful for his assistance, Toby can be a little hotheaded. Though I’d like to think his intervention is about my safety, I know it has more to do with his ego and appearances. Being the town’s claim to fame as our tiny county’s bull-riding champion, Toby does not like to lose face, and it doesn’t help that he’s been making a name for himself in the rodeo circle. The perceived stardom is getting to his head. Just because he thinks he’s hot shit doesn’t mean he can act like a shithead.

Anger radiates off him, and without any concern for my safety, he roughly shoves me to the side, putting his controlling personality on full display. My back slams into the edge of the bar, and pain lances along my spine. I clench my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through the stabbing sensation.

Before I can get my bearings, Toby advances on the dick who grabbed me, gripping him by the shirt. “Who the fuck do you think you are, touching my woman!”

Trying to defuse the tension, I tug Toby by the elbow. “Toby! Stop!”

He shrugs me off and cranes his neck, glaring at me over his shoulder. His eyes burn with warning as he grits out, “Mind your business, bitch. The men are talking.”

My face flushes with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Taken aback by the slip of his mask and how he’s publicly berating me, I speak before I think. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Maybe he’s had more to drink than I thought. He’s never been this brazen in front of others before. It’s something he keeps behind closed doors.

Abruptly, Toby spins, swiping his hand through the air until it greets my face with a resounding crack. Shock widens my eyes, and my shoulders cave forward. Instinctually, my palm covers my cheek, soothing the sting. My body shrinks beneath the watchful stare of the other patrons, and I fight against the tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “I can’t believe you just did that,” I gasp. With a shudder, it hits me—in this moment, Toby’s behavior toward me is an awful lot like my father’s. And over time, he’s become more aggressive .

Creeping forward, his ragged breath brushes against my lips. “Yeah, well maybe if you weren’t parading around in a room full of men wearing sweet fuck all, I wouldn’t need to leave my fucking beer to save your pathetic ass.”

All at once, the hair on the back of my neck raises, and I’m overcome by the raw masculine energy that surrounds me like a shield. This situation is about to get a helluva lot worse. Without setting eyes on them, I know who they are. The men my father warned me about. The ones I’ve been avoiding all my life. Nobody messes with the Black River brothers, least of all, my family.

For as long as I can remember, there’s been a divide. I’ve always been wary of the brothers from the neighboring ranch, and things have only gotten worse since tragedy struck, cementing the conflict between us. For the most part, I’ve heeded my father’s warnings about staying away from that family, with the exception of the eldest brother, Rhett, who works for my father. Over the years, we’ve developed a quiet, unspoken friendship, not that I’d tell my daddy that. Ignoring the rest of them is easier said than done, especially when they command attention no matter where they go. Mine included.

A hush falls over the bar. All eyes are on us, as their reputation precedes them.

A deep drawl growls over my shoulder, igniting a familiar shiver I’ve only felt in his brooding presence. Kade. The second oldest of the infamous Rivers brothers—and the one I find hardest to ignore. As if reading my thoughts, he steps closer, and the intoxicating smell of leather, musk, and earth envelops me. He’s so close, the rumble from his chest reverberates against my back. “Well, Toby… if you weren’t such a fucking pussy, people would know who she belongs to. Because if she were my woman, she could walk around this bar bare-ass naked and no one would dare look in her direction, let alone touch her.”

“Well, she’s not yours, she’s fucking mine,” Toby grits through his teeth.

“Really?” Rhett raises a brow, chiming in, “Because it sounds to me like you’re more fixated on your beer than your girlfriend.”

This time, one of the twin brothers—Jace or Cole, I can never tell—steps forward, jabbing a finger in Toby’s direction. “Whaddaya expect from a two-bit bull rider who hangs off every buckle bunny in town?”

Just then, Grabby Pants tries to edge off his barstool to slink away.

“Did we say you could leave?” The other twin moves toward him, places a hand on his shoulder, and forces him back onto the seat. “Sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and while you’re at it, keep your paws to yourself.”

Toby sneers, “Are you going to stand there and let your guard dogs bark for you? Which one of these plow boys is tending your field? Or are you letting them all have a go?” He comes closer, leaning down and getting right in my face. “I always knew you were a bit of a slut, Sage, but the Rivers brothers? Really?”

Done with him and his shit, I decide he needs a taste of his own medicine. Before I talk myself out of it, I rear back and slap the arrogant bastard across the face. “Next time you have the audacity to call me a slut, you’d better be able to deal with the consequences.” I shift my gaze to the brothers. “Y’all can deal with the trash.” With that, I turn on my heel and throw up my hands as I walk away. “I’m done.”

Ignoring the muffled voices behind me, I hightail it toward the staff bathrooms.

“Sage, hold up,” Rhett calls out from behind me.

My feet carry me swiftly down the hall, and I burst through the bathroom door. Unfortunately, Rhett is hot on my heels, and before I can shut him out, he wedges his boot between the door and the frame. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

I reluctantly take a step back. “Piss off, Rhett. Just because you’re apprenticing with my dad doesn’t make me your problem.”

“Let’s not pretend my looking out for you has anything to do with me working for your dad.” A look of sadness passes through his gaze .

“Save your pity for your day job, Rhett. I’m not a helpless farm animal. I can look after myself.”

He pushes the door open and slips into the bathroom with me.

I furrow my brow. “What do you want?”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his Wranglers, seeming unsure of himself. “I only want to make sure you’re okay.”

“If you’re so concerned”—I point toward the chaos we left behind—“make sure that motherfucker is nowhere near me.”

“Kade has it under control. He’s tossing him and that handsy guy out as we speak. It’s you I’m worried about.” He inches closer, his eyes homing in on what I presume to be my red cheek. “Please tell me Toby hasn’t hit you before.”

Ignoring his prompt, I deflect. “We’re not friends. What makes you think I’m gonna share all my secrets with you, Rhett the Vet?”

His shoulders shake with a silent chuckle as he smirks. “Real cute.” He narrows his eyes on me, and the bathroom fills with tension once more.

I huff out a breath, letting my shoulders drop. “Honestly, I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

Rhett hesitates, but I don’t budge. Finally, he backs toward the door. “If you’re sure. But if you need me, I’ll be out front.” He jerks his thumb and spins on his boot heel. Tossing a final glance over his shoulder, he adds, “Contrary to what you may think, your brother would want me to watch out for ya.” With that, he pinches the brim of his hat and dips his chin to his chest, before leaving me to my thoughts.

When the door closes behind him, I turn to face the mirror. Bracing my hands on the sink, I stare at my reflection and use a method my therapist taught me. I breathe in for a slow count of four and exhale for the same, squaring out my breathing.

Before I can fully compose myself, my phone vibrates in my shorts pocket. Digging it out, I glance down at the screen to find a string of unwanted texts from Toby.

I’m so sorry, baby.

I never should have done that.

But I got so mad watching him with his hands all over you.

You know how I get jealous, babe.

You’re just too damn beautiful. It drives me crazy.

Those fucking shorts, your tits.

You’ve been driving me wild all night.

Please come outside.

I love you so much, sweetheart.

I’m really sorry.

Quit being a bitch. Text me back.

This asshole. Sick of dealing with him and his gaslighting, I tap out a quick response before shoving my phone back in my pocket.

Get fucked.