Chapter Forty-Three
Marina
I wake to pounding.
Not the soft, rhythmic kind of noise that belongs to the ranch waking up around us. This is hard. Heavy. Repeated.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
My eyes fly open.
For a second, I’m disoriented. Then I feel Royce’s arm locked around my waist, steadying me, his chest warm against my back.
I turn toward the window, and it’s still dark out. It has to still be the middle of the night.
Another pounding rattles through the house.
Royce is already moving.
He slides out of bed, careful not to jostle me, and disappears into the bathroom. I push myself upright, clutching the sheet to my chest as I watch him. A moment later, he comes back out, wearing nothing but his jeans, dragging a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.
“What is it?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “Stay here.”
There’s something in his voice that makes me stop arguing.
He crosses the room and opens the bedroom door.
The hallway is dark.
Royce steps out, heading toward the living room across the hall.
Before I can decide whether to listen to him, Ryder’s bedroom door cracks open, and Mom’s head pokes out.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
She looks past me toward the hallway.
Another bang.
Mom’s expression tightens.
I grab the first thing I can find—Royce’s T-shirt tossed over the chair—and pull it over my head. It hangs nearly to my thighs.
“Stay with Ryder,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Just keep him in the room.”
I slip into the hallway, trying to make as little noise as possible.
Royce is standing near the living room window, staring through the blinds.
“Royce?”
“I can’t see a damn thing. It’s too dark,” he says.
The pounding starts again. My pulse kicks harder.
Then I hear it.
“Marina, are you in there?”
Every muscle in my body locks.
No. It can’t be.
My stomach drops.
Blaze? What the fuck is he doing here?
I spin toward Mom. “Shut the door.”
She stares at me. “Marina—”
“Mom, shut Ryder’s door. Keep him inside.”
Something in my face must convince her because she steps back immediately and closes the door.
I turn toward the front of the house. I’m already moving before I realize it. I make it three steps. Then a strong arm bands around my waist.
“Absolutely not.”
“Royce—”
He catches me against his chest, stopping me cold.
“It’s Blaze,” I hiss.
His entire body goes still. Then something in his expression changes.
The easygoing man I know disappears.
Royce turns me around and tucks me behind him, putting his body between me and the front door. “Stay behind me.”
“I’m not scared of him,” I say.
“Behind me, Rina.”
The pounding comes again. Hard enough to shake the door in its frame.
“Marina!”
Royce reaches for the lock.
My heart slams against my ribs, and the door swings open.
And there he is.
Blaze’s eyes move from me to Royce.
Then back to me.
He just stares.
For a few seconds, he looks like his brain can’t make sense of what his eyes are telling him.
Then his jaw tightens.
His gaze settles on Royce. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Royce doesn’t answer. He steps through the doorway and onto the porch.
I reach for the light switch and flick it on. The porch floods with yellow light, and I follow him outside.
That’s when Blaze really sees him.
Bare chest. Bare feet. Jeans sitting low on his hips. Sleep-tousled dark hair.
Blaze’s eyes drag over him slowly, taking in every detail.
Then they snap to me.
I know exactly what he sees—Royce’s shirt hanging loose around my thighs, sex-mussed hair, and my bare legs beneath the hem.
His expression twists into something ugly. “Came here to work, huh, babe?”
My stomach knots.
Blaze gives a humorless laugh. “I thought they hired you to ride horses, not second-rate bull riders.”
The words barely leave his mouth, and Royce moves. One second, he was standing beside me. The next, he’s advancing on Blaze with murder in his eyes, his fist already drawing back.
“Royce!” I grab his arm with both hands. His muscles bunch beneath my fingers. “Don’t.”
Blaze takes a step backward. He doesn’t see the porch step behind him. His heel catches, and his arms windmill.
The man who came pounding on my door in the middle of the night goes tumbling backward and lands square on his ass in the gravel.
For one stunned second, nobody moves.
Then Rowdy lets out a sharp, indignant snort from behind the fence.
And for some reason, that’s what breaks me.
I clamp a hand over my mouth because I absolutely should not laugh.
But I do.
A tiny, strangled sound escapes my throat.
Blaze’s head jerks toward me, and his face turns crimson.
Royce slowly lowers his fist. And the corner of his mouth twitches. “Second-rate bull rider, huh? Looks like you’re the one with shitty balance.”