Chapter Thirty-Two
Royce
I spend the entire time waiting for Axle’s second ride, wondering where Marina went.
She was there one minute, and the next, she wasn’t.
And every time I glance toward the dance floor, the bar, the tables, she’s nowhere in sight.
Someone taps my shoulder, and I turn to find Cabe beside me.
“Hey, bro. I’m heading out with a friend.”
I look toward the woman waiting near the door, then back at him.
“Everything good?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Just wanted to let you know I got a ride.” He leans closer. “And to let you know Marina’s out on the patio.”
My pulse kicks.
He gives me a look like he knows exactly what I’m thinking before he disappears into the crowd.
I force myself to stay put.
Axle’s ride is next. I tell myself I can find Marina after.
The lights dim slightly as the camera cuts to the chute. Axle is already aboard. The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers. The gate flies open.
Axle hangs on.
Eight seconds.
Then, somehow, everything goes sideways. He’s suddenly over the bull’s head, and he lands on one of its horns. The bull jerks its head, launching him through the air and straight into the bullfighter.
The guy catches him, spins with the momentum, and sets Axle right back on his feet.
For one frozen second, the entire bar holds its breath.
Then Axle grins, tosses his hat in the air, and starts pumping his fist as he stomps around the arena.
The place goes absolutely fucking insane.
I laugh. “Holy shit.”
Micah throws a hand up, and I smack his palm.
Jovie is laughing beside us, and I squeeze her shoulders.
“That was like watching a fucking ballet,” I whisper in her ear.
The score flashes across the screen.
He clinched it.
I barely give the celebration another second before I’m moving. I’ve seen him handed enough gold buckles in person. I need to find Marina.
I push through the crowd, shove open the patio door, and step outside.
She’s standing near the railing with her back to me.
“Rina.”
She turns, and our eyes meet. The look I see in hers makes me stop breathing, and she launches herself at me.
Her fingers fist the front of my flannel, both hands gripping the fabric as she yanks me toward her.
Then her mouth crashes onto mine.
Everything inside me detonates. Weeks of tension. Weeks of wanting her. Weeks of pursuing her as she kept me at arm’s length. Gone in a heartbeat.
I catch her around the waist and kiss her back.
She kisses me like she’s been holding this in just as long as I have. I walk her backward until her back meets the railing. Her hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer, and I lose whatever common sense I had left.
I nip at her lower lip, and she opens for me. The kiss deepens.
Her breath catches when my mouth moves along her jaw and down her throat, and she tips her head back, giving me access.
My hands settle at her waist.
She moves closer, pressing herself against me, and my hardening cock begins to throb behind the button of my jeans.
I want her.
Fuck, I want her.
I want to get her out of here. Take her somewhere private. Somewhere I can slow this down and take my time tasting every inch of her.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, knocking my hat from my head. It lands somewhere on the wooden deck.
I groan against her mouth.
Suddenly, a warning bell I can’t ignore starts going off in my mind.
What changed from the dance floor till now?
My hard-on tells me it doesn’t matter, but the voice in my head is telling me it does.
I wrench my mouth from hers.
She stares at me, stunned and breathless, her hands still gripping my shirt.
I’m breathing just as hard.
But something isn’t right.
And I don’t know what the hell it is yet.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask.
She blinks at me. “What?”
The confusion on her face tells me that I’m off base. I lean down and search her eyes. They’re bloodshot, like she’s been crying.
Then it dawns on me.
The rodeo.
Her fucking ex.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter.
I step back and reach down for my hat. I place it on my head and turn for the door.
“Trust?”
I glance back at her.
“You look like a fucking wet dream in that dress,” I say, my voice rough. “And I’m mighty tempted to take you home and fuck some sense into you.”
She gasps, and hurt flashes in her eyes.
“But I’m not interested in being your revenge fuck.”
Her eyes narrow.
For a second, I think she might say something.
Instead, she turns and tears past me.
Her fist slams into the gate leading off the patio, sending it swinging wide as she disappears down the ramp that wraps around the side of the building.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.
Fuck!
I have half a mind to let her walk her ass all the way back to the ranch, but a minute later, I’m pushing away from the railing and following her anyway.
I find her halfway across the parking lot.
“Rina!”
She keeps walking.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
She throws a hand up without turning around. “Away from you!”
I lengthen my stride. “Not happening, sweetheart.”
She whips around. “I don’t need you following me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not letting you storm off into the night by yourself.”
“I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing a good fucking job of it my entire life.”
“I know you can.”
I catch up to her before she can put any more distance between us and wrap an arm around her waist.
She immediately starts fighting me. “Let me go!”
“No.”
She kicks at the pavement, twisting in my hold, but I keep my grip firm enough to keep her from breaking free.
“Stop fighting me,” I roar.
“Put me down.”
“Not until you calm the hell down.”
I carry her toward my truck while she thrashes the whole damn way.
“You are such a dick!”
“Probably.”
“I hate you!”
“Yeah, well, you hate me from the passenger seat all the way back to the ranch.”
I reach my truck and set her on her feet, keeping myself between her and the open parking lot.
She glares up at me, breathing hard.
“You’re not going anywhere alone, this pissed off,” I tell her. “I’m taking your ass home.”
“I don’t want to get in the truck with you,” she hisses.
“Too damn bad.”
She tries to slip around me, but I catch her wrist before she takes two steps.
“Rina, dammit.”
“Let go.”
“Just stop.”
She yanks her hand free.
I pull my phone from my back pocket and call Waylon.
He answers on the first ring. “Yeah?”
“Close my tab.”
A beat.
“What happened?”
“Fill you in later. And give Micah and Jovie a ride home.”
“You got it.”
“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow for my card.”
“No problem.”
I hang up.
Marina is glaring at me like she’d happily set my truck on fire with me in it.
I open the passenger door. “Get in.”
“No.”
I drag a hand down my face. “Marina, please.”
“No.”
“Don’t make me go full Neanderthal on you and physically put you in there.”
Her eyes flash. “I’d like to see you try.”
I almost laugh, but then I see it. A tear sliding down her cheek.
I freeze.
Another follows.
Geezus.
She’s crying.
Over Blaze fucking Cassel.
My temper flares all over again, but this time, it’s tangled up with something else.
Confusion.
“Why the hell are you crying over that piece of shit for?”
Her face crumples for half a second before anger takes over again. “I’m not crying because of Blaze!”
She shoves both hands against my chest.
I barely move.
“Then why the hell are you crying?”
“Because of you!” she shouts in my face.
That stops me cold, and I stare at her.
She swipes angrily at her cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know.”
“I finally—” Her voice cracks, and she looks away. “I finally decided to let my guard down.”
Something tightens in my chest.
“And what did you do? You threw Blaze in my face.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You made it about him!” She looks up at me, tears shining in her eyes. “It wasn’t about Blaze. It wasn’t about revenge. And it wasn’t about you and what you want.”
She presses a trembling hand against her chest. “It was about me.”
I stare at her.
“It was about me finally taking hold of something I wanted. Something I wanted for myself. For once.” Her voice drops. “And you threw it back in my face.”
Fuck.
I step closer. She’s breathing erratically. So am I.
One minute ago, I was ready to strangle her.
Now?
I’d let her use me however she needed if it meant making that hurt disappear from her eyes.
I open the passenger door wider. “Get in the truck.”
She doesn’t move.
My voice softens. “Please, baby.”
Still nothing.
I take another step toward her. “Please, baby, get in the fucking truck.”
Her chin trembles.
I reach up slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, then rest my hand against the back of her head.
I lean down until my mouth is beside her ear.
“I’m a jealous fucking asshole,” I murmur. “And I’m sorry.”
Her eyes close.
I swallow hard. “I should’ve known better.”
I pull back just enough to look at her.
“Please,” I say again. “Just get in the damn truck.”