Chapter Twenty Five #2
“They broke up well before Aurora was born,” Hazel says, fist tight around the glass bottle. “But…”
Her throat bobs and I gape at her. Surely, she’s not going to agree with this woman. Right ?
“Look, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my concerns,” she continues. “Kade just came back to us. I’m afraid being around a baby who represents everything he lost will send him back into that dark pit he hid away in for so long.”
Shay nods and Emmy grimaces, but agrees quietly. Even Gemma looks torn.
My body shakes with the effort of staying in my seat. Of not running to some dark corner to cry. Of not jumping up and yelling at them—telling them to shut up and keep Kade and Aurora out of their mouths.
My brain reminds me it’s not my place to speak for him—not my battle to fight. But my heart? The same heart Kade reached into last night with those gentle, calloused hands and held like it was something worth keeping? It’s screaming that this is wrong.
That they’re wrong.
But before I can act on the fire building in my chest, it’s Loretta who speaks—and what she says stops me cold, confirming my biggest fear where Kade is concerned.
“I’m not so much worried about your brother.
He’s a damn good man. Stepping up is in his blood.
Never would’ve taken him for the type to back down from a challenge.
” She takes a slow sip of her margarita, then sighs.
“I’m just worried about the woman who comes after Marlee May.
Far as I know, Kade hasn’t been with anyone since her—and now that he’s got her baby?
Ain’t a woman alive who could ever fill those shoes. ”
Everything around me blurs, and it takes a minute to realize I’m on the verge of crying.
Crying over a man I can’t stand half the time, and feel way too damn much for the rest of it. A man I want, and like I told Kade…
Wanting gets me nowhere.
After a long, tense moment, I jump up, plaster a fake as fuck smile on my face and snag the bottle of tequila. “Enough with the sad shit! Who wants a shot?”
Because getting stupidly drunk is about the only thing in my life I can control right now.
After that, time passes in a blur of shots, chaos and random men. Men who come up to the table, asking for dances. Men who pout and flirt and buy drinks.
The first guy who asked me to join him on the dancefloor was yelled at by Hazel.
Apparently STD-Stan is a bad man. The next guy got a thumbs-up from the Archer sisters but a no from me.
Before he could feel sad about the rejection, Shay was crawling into his lap, and they’ve been making out ever since.
Clearly, he’s not sad over me, and I’m… fine with being on my own. Been doing it my whole life.
The place is packed. I’m way past buzzed—probably drunk, laughing freely, and for once, not thinking about work or responsibilities, or what brought me to this town in the first place.
Definitely not thinking about Kade or how badly I wish he was here so I could crawl into his lap and kiss his stupidly perfect beard off his stupidly handsome face. It’s probably for the best, though, because I don’t trust myself right now.
The longer the night’s stretched on, the more reckless my intentions have become. Pretty sure if I saw him right now, I’d do a hell of a lot more than kiss him, and I doubt I’d stop with sex.
No, knowing me, and the way my heart supposedly lives in my vagina, I’d probably go and admit all the crazy things I feel for the man.
Stupid, crazy, annoying feelings.
I hate them.
Still, every now and then, I catch myself glancing toward the door, stomach twisting, heart thudding.
Hazel catches me on the third sweep. “You looking for someone?”
“What? Me?” I press a hand to my chest and gasp. “No! I’m just taking it all in! It’s sooo pretty here! So sparkly and dusty and—” I roll my empty shot glass between my fingers and grin. “ Drinky .”
Her head falls back with a deep, smoky laugh that’s all sex and fantasies for half the cowboys in the room. I glance around again and, yep —several men have stopped mid-sip or mid-step to watch her. One of them even has his mouth open.
“Close it, Wayne, or you’ll catch flies!” Loretta hollers.
The man jerks and practically scrambles away.
A snort escapes me before I can stop it, and I slap a hand over my mouth. But it’s too late. Everyone at the table turns to look at me for one beat, then two, before we all burst into laughter again.
I feel it before I see it.
The shift in the air. A ripple of attention. The subtle hush that happens when someone walks in who changes the temperature of a room just by existing.
Kade .
I spot him first, just inside the doors, flanked by two men I don’t recognize but somehow know are Griffin and Wilder. I didn’t get a chance to meet them last night before I took off, feigning a migraine.
The guy to his right is huge. Like, shoulders-for-days, probably-could-lift-a-bull huge. His beard is wild, streaked with silver, and his dirty blond hair is shoved into a man bun that somehow works. His shirt’s tight. His jeans are tighter.
The other guy’s a bit shorter, but still tall, pretty in a troublemaker way. Tousled blond hair, gray Henley, smirking like he’s broken hearts in three time zones and isn’t even sorry.
But then there’s Kade.
And suddenly… they’re both background noise.
It takes a second, liquid courage buzzing through me, to really look. But when I do, my stomach flips and something low and hot curls behind my ribs, traveling lower by the second.
Dark jeans. Thick thighs. Broad chest under a black tee that clings a little too well. Ink curls over one bicep, half-hidden under the sleeve. His beard isn’t as wild as it was yesterday, like he took time to get ready tonight.
He’s not doing anything special. Just walking, just existing. But my heart is beating like I ran here instead of drinking too much tequila, and my pussy is clenching around nothing but depression and need.
God help me, I want to climb him like a tree and never come down.
He’s just so… so… broad , and sexy, and annoyingly perfect.
And then there's his favorite hat, smashing down a mess of thick, almost-curls. I’ve never found baseball caps sexy. In fact, I hate the sport. And judging by the size of Kade Archer’s big, veiny muscles, I’d wager a guess that he’s not exactly tossing balls anywhere.
Slapping them maybe.
Against a very lucky woman’s ass as he pounds into—
My hand smacks against my face as if to shut my drunk brain up. Those are absolutely not thoughts we’re allowed to have.
Hell to the no .
I glance up just in time to see Kade sit at a low table on the opposite side of the bar. He doesn’t look around like he’s trolling for women or familiar faces, just focuses on his blond friend and smiles at something he says. I find that smile to be arrogant and stupid and sexy.
I grip the edge of the table, nails biting into the wood, heart pounding in my ears.
Of course he looks good.
Of course he does.
Because why wouldn’t the most infuriating man I’ve ever met walk into the bar on the one night I actually feel happy—and look like every bad decision I’ve never had the courage to make?
“Aww, fuck.” Loretta groans, effectively dragging my attention from the last place it should be.
“What?” Emmy says, tipping back a beer.
“They’re here,” Hazel says, grimacing.
My heart skips a few beats, and the bar spins. Did she notice her brother? Is he coming over here?
Do I want him to?
Yes. So much yes.
“Who?” Gemma slurs, both arms wrapped around the tequila bottle like it’s a teddy bear. “What’s happening?”
“Them,” Hazel mutters, tipping her chin at a group of broad-shouldered, denim-clad cowboys making their way through the crowd like they own the place. “Here come the boys from Cooper Ridge.”
Shay whines, “Already?”
“Whatever,” Emmy says, licking her straw. “They’re hot.”
“They’re also responsible for this town taking a complete fucking nosedive,” Hazel mutters.
“That’s the ranch trying to put Honey Bea out of business?” Gemma hisses, sitting up straight. “Oh, fuck no!”
My brows crash together. What the hell are they talking about? There’s another big ranch here?
The group closes in fast—three guys, all tan, grinning white teeth, and obviously aware of how hot they are, heading straight for us. Everyone tenses.
“Well, well. Looks like the Saddle just got a whole lot prettier.”
“If you’re insinuating it’s because you showed up, Clint,” Hazel drawls, drumming her nails across the table. “I’d say it’s quite the opposite.”
Emmy flashes them a smirk and bats her lashes. “Sadly, I’d have to agree. All that money, and you still can’t buy better personalities?”
“All beauty and no brains, ain’t that right, Em?” The guy named Clint grins wider, his eyes rolling down her body. “Don’t worry. A man don’t care about smarts when you’ve got a tight little pussy, do they?”
Her cheeks turn pink and he chuckles like that wasn’t rude as hell.
“Go find someone else to gawk at. No one here wants to look at ya,” Loretta barks, waving them off.
“No.” One of Clint’s friends scoffs. “No one wants to look at you, Granny.”
The two start to argue, but I tune them out, my gaze snagging on Hazel’s hands. They’re bunched up on the table, partially hidden behind her curtain of hair, fists so tight, her knuckles are bleached white.
And Gemma… Gemma looks like she’s about two seconds from using the glass bottle as a bat.
Clint turns the full weight of his attention on me and saunters around the table, closing the distance between us and pinning me in place.
His friends follow, and Hazel slides from her chair, jaw tight, Gemma right behind her.
I spin my chair, not wanting the creep at my back, but I can’t get up with him blocking me like this.
“Well, sugarpuss. Don’t think we’ve met.” He bites his lip, ugly sparse mustache twitching with the movement. “Get on your knees, and I’ll introduce myself proper.”
Ew. Absolutely not.
“You couldn’t pay me to get on my knees for you, you tiny-dicked cretin.”
Clint chuckles, dark eyes glazing over like he thinks this is some kind of fucked-up foreplay. “That right?”
I let my gaze drag from his overpriced boots to that smug, punchable smirk, and curl my lip in disgust. Hate men like him. He reminds me of Abby’s ex.
“You clearly didn’t hear my friends the first time, so let me break it down real slow in a way your tiny brain will understand: nobody at this table wants anything to do with you.
Least of all me.” I smile sweetly. “Now scurry along. Your fragile masculinity and tiny dick energy is dripping on my boots.”
“Does this feel tiny to you, sugarpuss?” he mutters, licking his lower lip and grinding the hard ridge of himself against my thigh.
My temper flares red hot, as disgust and shock assault my senses.
“Don’t touch me, asshole!” I snap, shoving Clint and his unwanted touch away from me.
He stumbles back and hits another table, sending drinks and a chair tumbling to the ground, but he quickly rights himself. His friends step back, eyes wide, and I sense the girls around me jumping to their feet, shouting words I can’t hear.
Before I can blink, he’s back in my face, his hand around my throat, and I just… freeze .
“I don’t know who you think you are, you little cunt—”
“Get your fuckin’ hands off my woman,” a low, deadly voice rumbles. “ Now .”
And then…
Clint is just gone.