Chapter 28
Riley
The temperature plummets again. This time, I’m sweaty for a whole different reason. I claw at the sofa, trying to resist the impending orgasm that I know will topple us both over that edge.
I don’t want this to be over.
I held off on this man for so long, and now every minute is too short. I’m a fecking eejit.
A world-class goddamn fecking eejit.
I push down the rationale that kept me away. The logic that tells me this is a bad idea, that it can’t last. That the further we go, the more this will hurt in December when I leave.
Some things are worth the pain.
This is one of them.
Spencer’s moves turn sloppy, his panting breaths hitting the back of my neck as he wraps my hair around his fist for the second time tonight. God, I love it when he does that. I’ll never look in the mirror and see my long hair the same way again.
My head tugs backward, and his lips brush past my ear.
“Riley O’Malley, you have officially ruined this man for anyone else.”
No . . . Spence, don’t say that.
The emotion has my airways closing over, and I forget I’ve been holding back.
An orgasm collides into my core, sending wave upon wave of pleasure through my veins. Like a firework detonating at my center, traveling through every part of me and lighting me up as it goes.
The second I come back down from the grandest high a girl has ever known, Spence is wrapped around me, his choppy breaths hitting my neck as he loses a low, guttural groan.
“Fuck, Riles, what have we started?”
The crowd at the midyear event is huge. I would have thought the heat would keep people at home. Apparently, I was wrong.
Ivy squirms on my lap as I try to point out Daddy to her. After a couple weeks off for his sprained shoulder, he’s back and currently helping Brady strap onto a bull called Little Fizzer. Sounds like a candy, but I have been informed Little Fizzer is no joke.
And especially not sweet.
“Look Ives, there’s Daddy helping Uncle Brady.
You see?” I point, dropping my head to her level, but she’s about as interested in bull riding—or the cowboys—as I am in donating my organs to the black market.
She grabs for the snacks in her diaper bag.
I relent, letting her have a small pack of rice crackers to nibble on while I sit here and wonder if her only parent will walk away without life-threatening injuries tonight.
I hate this part of Spencer’s life.
Especially, I hate it for Ives. And after hearing Maggie’s story . . . Well, that just cemented every fear I’ve ever had for Spencer and Ivy.
It makes the concept of leaving them both harder still.
My phone buzzes and I reach into the bag and swipe it up.
Chloe.
I slide to answer, but the crowd roars as Little Fizzer bursts from the chute.
I wave and then hold the phone back so she can see Ivy too before flipping the screen to Brady raking the shoulder of the fastest spinning bull I’ve ever seen.
Now I get why they call him Little Fizzer.
“Riles?” I barely hear my name over the noise.
Turning the phone back around I put her as close as I can without her having to talk to my nostrils.
“Hey Chlo, how are you?”
“Hi Ivy!”
So much for her big sister, then.
I help Ivy wave, and she tries to grab the screen with her mushed-rice-cake-covered hands.
“No, bubba, this is Riley’s.” I hold the phone out of her reach as much as I can.
“Riles, she is getting so big,” Chlo says, her gaze drifting back to Ivy. “Aren’t you such a big girl now. Look how much you grew!”
Her voice has risen an octave as she praises Ivy. It’s adorable.
I wish all my favorite people could be in one place. Hell, I’d settle for them being on one continent, at this point.
“How’s the cowboy going?”
Heat flushes my face before I can school my reaction.
“Riles . . . no. Are you guys, like, dating now? Is he coming back with you?” Her face falls. “You are coming back, right?”
“Of course I’m coming home, Chlo. It’s jus—”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer cuts me off. “Our last ride for the night is here. This cowboy has been on the circuit for almost a decade. Took out the Pbr title five years ago, and tonight he is riding for the Alberta Bravos! Give it up for Spenceeerrrr Lockwood!”
Wait . . . Spence won a Pbr?
We are absolutely unpacking that on the way home.
“Oh my god, Riles, turn the camera around! I have to see this man ride.”
I chuckle and do as she asks.
The chute flies open. Spencer is tethered to a black-and-white bull with long horns, and it wastes no time kicking up and spinning to the left.
The clock above the corner of the arena winds up as Spence rakes his gnarly-looking spurs over the bull’s shoulders.
Holy feck.
My lungs tighten, and I realize I’m holding my breath.
Someone is calling my name . . .
“. . . iles! I can’t see!”
Chlo is screaming into the phone.
Shite.
I hold it back up so she can see Spencer ride.
The clock ticks over.
6.10
7.42
The crowd launches to their feet as Spencer springs from the bull the second the buzzer blares over the arena.
Ives is wriggling, fussing in my hold.
My too-tight hold.
“Oh bubba, sorry, my girl. Daddy gave me a fright, is all.”
I release my ironclad hug on her as I realize I’m standing.
I bounce Ivy on my knee while I turn the phone back on to us. Chloe is smiling like an idiot.
“What?” I ask.
“Riles, he’s fantastic.” She continues to gush over Spence, and I can only smile, chuckle, and continue to bounce Ivy. “I am so coming to visit.”
“No, you are not. We can’t afford it, and besides, you have study to do.”
“Urgh, you sound like Declan. So bossy.”
“No babe, not bossy. I am the boss. Now get your pouty little butt into bed. I’ll text you when we get home tomorrow.”
Chlo yawns, flopping back onto the bed, the room on the screen spinning up. She melts into the covers and blows the camera a kiss. “Night, Ives.”
“Oh, I see how it is.” I give her a mock eye roll.
“Night, Riles. Love you.”
“Love you too, kiddo.”
I’m packing the phone back into the diaper bag when someone taps my shoulder. I turn back to find two women sitting behind me, beers in hand. Their outfits are something out of a cowgirl cosplay set. I’ve never seen so much glitter, so many tassels . . .
“Can I help you?” I ask.
A perplexed expression spreads over the woman’s face on the right. Her dark wavy hair sways as she cocks her head. “Oh my god, what is that accent? Are you, like, Scottish or something?”
“Or something.” I hold her stare as the woman to her right has her eyes glued to Ivy. I raise a brow at her, and she huffs a sound before turning on her heel and stalking down the grandstand, her boots making a hell of a noise.
“Emma! Babe, come back, she—”
Emma.
My mind flashes back to the handwritten note in Ivy’s basinet. The one I never remembered to show Spencer. The one I couldn’t bring myself to raise to his attention, just so a woman who gave up her tiny baby could have a second chance.
Gathering Ivy’s diaper bag, I hug her to my hip and move from my seat.
A hand closes around my biceps. “You’re with Spencer Lockwood?”
The words are not curious, and they certainly are not kind.
The pouty look returns to her face.
“I am none of your goddamn business,” I hiss, and Ives and I are putting distance between her and the grandstand before I can even bare to look over my shoulder at Emma’s friend.
It’s time to go home.
I find Spence behind the chute, showing a young guy how to strap the rope over his glove.
The young man is mesmerized, his gaze homed in on Spencer’s right hand as his fingers curl and uncurl over the rope.
“See, as tight into the depth of your palm as you can. Then, close them over,” Spence says with an encouraging nod.
He’s in his element.
“Yeah, thanks, man. Next time I am definitely gonna make that eight.”
Spence slaps him on the shoulder. “Absolutely, bud. Grip tight, head in the game, round and round you go. Okay?”
“Thanks, Lockwood. See you next weekend.”
Spencer waves him off as I close in on him. When Ives starts babbling, reaching for him, he turns around.
“Hello, my beautiful girl.” He grins around the syllables, his arms stretching to take her. Her grabby little hands go for his hat immediately.
She loves that thing.
“Nice ride, cowboy,” I say softly, adjusting the diaper bag strap on my shoulder.
“Thanks. Not the best I’ve ever done, but enough.”
“Yeah . . . about tha—”
“Spencer Lockwood,” a voice snaps from behind me.
Spence shifts Ives to his other hip, away from the tone that just bulldozed its way into our conversation.
“Yeah?” he replies. By the fact that his gaze drops to her and doesn’t change, I’m guessing he doesn’t remember her. And he certainly doesn’t know who she is.
Emma stands, arms crossed, expression pure hurt.
“Playing happy little families, I see,” she says with a huff.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Spence says. His tone is neutral, but I can see the way his jaw flexes, the shift in his stance to make himself bigger.
Her friend is walking up behind her, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“You cowboys are un-fucking-believable. Yeah, you know me. I can’t bel—”
Her friend grabs her by the arm and pulls her away from us. “Babes, stop.”
Emma rips her arm free and stalks back to Spencer. “I lost everything because of you. I had a job and a music contract. Then you knocked me up, and I lost it all. You owe me. Big fucking time.”
Her gaze never strays to Ives. Not even once. It’s like she doesn’t even exist. Brady and Hadley are walking for us. Brady’s expression could take out a whole legion.
I step beside Spencer. “For your information, both parties are responsible for safe sex and the use of contraception. Trying to pin the blame on Spencer is a moot point.”
Damn, I spend way too much time with Stace.
At least, I used to.
Brady removes Ivy from Spencer’s hold and gives him a nod as he walks away with her, talking softly to her.
Hadley folds his arms and widens his stance as he comes to a stop on Spencer’s other side.
“That was your plan, hey? Get knocked up and then cash out? Sorry to disappoint you . . . Emma? But I’m Lockwood in name only now. So, you’re shit out of luck.”
Her face twists. “Then I want it back. The kid.”
My mouth gapes, fire lacing through every inch of my veins.
Over my rotting dead corpse.
Spence tenses. “That’s not going to happen. You abandoned her. In the dead of winter, I might add, outside a building.”
“The kid was fine. The doorman could see me.”
Spencer raises a brow. “This conversation is over. Leave, before I call the cops for harassment.”
Emma’s hands hang by her sides as her face goes through every emotion humanly possible. Her expression finally settles on rage, and she is up in Spencer’s face.
“You are such a fucking asshole.”
Spinning on her heel, she marches away. Glancing over her shoulder, she screams, “This is absolutely not over, Lockwood.”
The moment she disappears from the parking lot, I turn to face Spence.
“How the fuck did I not remember her?” he mutters.
“Probably because I never told you who Ivy’s mom was . . . months ago.”
Spencer’s gaze snaps up as Hadley gives me an empathetic smile and wanders away.
“Riles . . . what?”