Chapter 14
Final call came oddly fast. I don’t usually stay at the bar this long, but I’ve got nothing else going on, so why not?
I pull my phone out to check it, expecting nothing to be there. Since I vanished from the rodeo scene, so did all the friends that usually came barking at my door. I could go home, hell, I should go home, but I’m a bit drunk and driving doesn’t seem like the best idea.
The heat of my drinks linger in my chest as I shift my gaze toward Kaylee, who seems to be lost in thought, adrift in the depths of her glass. She releases a breath, taking another sip. Curiosity pulls me in with the distance of her stare.
I figured she’d have left shortly after Sawyer and Daisy did, but she stayed.
She hasn’t talked much, aside from a sugar-coated insult or two and a chat with Nancy about her shop, but the fact that she hasn’t left makes me think she might secretly enjoy my company.
That, or at least not despise it. I suppose I, too, stuck around because for me, her presence brings much more excitement than going back to the ranch.
Honestly, more excitement than I’ve had in a while.
“Where ya headed, Angel?” I question.
“Home. Far from you. Whichever comes first.” Four Jack and Cokes deep, and her sass toward me is at its peak. “Have a nice night, Miss Nancy,” she says, draining her glass in one final gulp before sliding off the stool and aiming for the exit.
With a wink in Nancy’s direction, I tuck a couple extra bills beneath my drink. In an instant, I’m on my feet and out the door with Kaylee at my side.
“What are you doing?” she challenges, anger in each word.
“Walkin’ ya home.”
“No, you’re not.” Her words are curt, but my stride continues in tandem with hers.
“I don’t got anythin’ better to do.” And that’s the truth. I don’t. Ever.
“I’m sure you can find something that’s more your level in the alley. Try that and fuck off.”
My level? For what? What makes her hate me so much?
“So our date didn’t meet your expectations?
” I figure a joke is a good enough reminder that I’m not that bad.
After all, she did choose to stay with me the rest of the night.
But the huff that follows leads me to believe it didn’t land as intended, so I try to soften her anger before she hits me with it.
“Just figure it’s late and might as well make sure ya get home safe. ”
Her brows furrow together. “Safe from what? Creeps like you?”
Ouch. Her aggravation only ever seems to grow, but all I’m trying to do is be nice. What happened in the last five minutes that made her revolve back around to this level of attitude?
“I have a switchblade in my purse. I’ll be fine,” she bites out as I continue to walk alongside her.
I glance down at the tiny silver bag in her hand. “What else ya got in there, Angel? Brass knuckles?” I try to lighten this heavy mood she seems to always carry around with her.
Stopping dead in her tracks, she turns toward me, anger sparking in her dark gaze. “Call me Angel one more fucking time and you’re about to find out.”
I hold my hands up in surrender, thankful a few feet stand between her and I. I don’t particularly want to get maced or whatever she plans to pull out of that sparkly purse. She turns away from me, taking a few steps to put distance between us, and I let her. I’m not sure how to interpret her mood.
The sound of a whistle drifts from across the street, forcing both of our attention toward some drunk dipshit as he stumbles down the sidewalk, cat-calling her from where he stands. “Hey baby, you wanna come home with me?”
She doesn’t miss a beat with her response. “Not even your mom wants to be under the same roof. Keep walking fuck-face.”
I crack a smile. She’s fierce, in ways I’ve never seen before, and after that, I can see why she would be so untrusting of men.
As he steps off the curb toward her, I subconsciously close the space between us.
Kaylee doesn’t notice my presence, however he does immediately, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry ‘bout that, thought she was alone.”
I cringe at his remark, suggesting her being by herself justifies his shitty ass behavior.
The more I think about it the more, I think that men like that are the exact reason why she hates us all.
I barely have time to brace myself as Kaylee whirls around, flames in her eyes, ready to chew me out for robbing her of the chance to put this schmuck in his place herself.
I take her in, in all her bright, sequined glory. Is this the shit she deals with daily? If so, I’d be pissed at the world too. “Yeah, no, you ain’t walkin’ alone. I can walk behind ya or with ya, but either way, you’re stuck with me tonight.”
She seems to soften at what I say, exhaling slowly before agreeing, “Fine, you can walk with me.”
A surrender she surely didn’t anticipate, nonetheless, I consider a win.
We stroll a short way in silence. The type of quiet that is filled with tension, not the good kind. I want to say something, anything to fill the void between us, but decide against it because I’m the one who forced my presence and I don’t want to make her hate my guts.
“Thanks,” she mutters, and I feel a tangible surge of relief.
“I didn’t do anythin’.” I can’t help myself wanting to make the moment feel a lot less heavy so I add, “Ya see that guy? Pretty sure he pissed himself once ya talked back.”
Her lips turn upwards as she glances up at me, her smile dying the second I return it. Man, I don’t get this girl. Confidence doesn’t work. Kindness doesn’t work. What’s a guy got to do to gain a little of either back?
I mull over what to say, because I don’t know how long this walk is going to be and another five minutes of silence might kill me.
“So, how did ya meet Daisy?” I’m not sure it’s the best question, but it’s all I got.
I decide to keep the conversation as surface level as possible.
Something tells me if I were to ask anything too direct, she’d brush me off or shut me out completely.
The only time she truly seems to be warm is around her friend, so asking about Daisy feels like the better topic.
Silence lingers and I’m convinced she won’t answer, but there’s a warmth in her gaze as she finally says, “I hired her to work for me before she left me for her big girl job. We just clicked, so we stayed friends.”
“Ah yes, the famous Southern Sip. I fuckin’ love coffee,” I impulsively utter the response, regretting how stupid it sounds.
“You love everything, Rhett.” I can’t tell if her tone is accompanied with cruelty, or if there might be a gentle joke involved. I choose to go with the latter, because Ma didn’t raise a pessimist.
Funny enough, she’s probably right. I love a whole lot of things in my life because I love life itself. Or, at least, I did until life came crashing down on me. One thing I don’t love though, is a liar.
“Now that ain’t true, I mostly just love coffee, rodeos, and my Ma.”
“What an odd combination.” Her expression is soft again. “The part about your mom is sweet though, if you mean it.”
If I mean it? Damn, she must really have her expectations low for people.
“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean—?” I try to find answers in her pessimism, only to be cut off.
“Fucking great,” she whispers under her breath.
“What?” I look over the crowd of people a few feet away. I don’t recognize anyone, not that I expect to.
“The guy over there in the yellow shirt’s name is Hayes. He and I, well, I don’t know what we were. I guess nothing.” She hushes as they head closer to us.
Grabbing her hand, I lace my fingers between hers and I can feel the gravity of her stare as we progress towards him.
“What are you–”
I hush her, and she doesn’t question me further as we approach the crowd. The guy she pointed out definitely recognizes her, I mean, how couldn’t he, but doesn’t say a word. Whatever he did or didn’t do, at least I can help her make him feel like he missed out.
Rounding the end of the street, she pulls her hand from mine.
“What was that about?”
“Eh, figured might as well make him jealous.”
“Jealous of what exactly?” She scoffs. “You? Because I highly doubt it. All of you cowboys think so damn highly of yourself that he probably didn’t notice either of us. You all just peacock around like you’re a gift to this world.”
My ego feels slightly deflated. I sure as hell don’t want to be lumped with a bunch of selfish pricks, but at this point, I expect nothing less from her.
“First off, don’t group me with the assholes who crossed ya.
They sound like losers and that isn’t a me problem.
” I don’t mean to fight back so crassly, but I didn’t do anything, and for whatever reason, it feels necessary to remind her of that.
“And trust me, he noticed. Didn’t ya see him all google-eyed at ya as we walked by?
” Her eyebrow raises and I decide if she hates our confidence, maybe it’s because she’s never been given any of her own.
“Can’t say I blame him, look at ya.” I walk backwards in a circle around her, pretending to look her up and down as a show, but taking my time because not a man out there could resist her.
Her cheeks flush and I may have said it hoping for that response, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mean it too.
“Right, whatever, I guess.” She looks down at the pavement beneath our feet and I can tell she isn’t really used to accepting a compliment, though I can’t imagine she isn’t used to getting them either.
Still watching her feet, I take the opportunity to trace her body, noting every curve.
Her hair is so blonde it’s practically white and scattered throughout are black and pink stripes.
I doubt that’s what they’re called, but whatever they are, they make her different and they definitely don’t make her any less hot as hell.
She’s sun kissed and wears a nose ring on her cute little nose.
Black eyeliner rims her golden-green eyes and she’s so beautiful, it’s shocking that she’s not famous because of it.
“I see you checking me out, Casanova.” Her voice pulls me out of my trance and a self-assured smile brushes her lips. “Not happening.” She turns her head from side-to-side ever so slightly, but I’m not fully convinced of her annoyance.
“Wasn’t checkin’ ya out, just lookin’ at ya.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, stop.”
I sarcastically salute her. “Yes, ma’am.” I return my eyes forward and away from her.
“How did you and Sawyer become friends?” she asks, keeping her question about someone else as well.
“We work construction together, that about sums up the situation.” I consider explaining more in depth the reason we both landed at the construction site, that neither of us particularly have a passion for it, but that’s not what she asks and the more I lean into that, the closer I’d be getting to a sob story which isn’t what I’m going for.
I’d rather she sees the positive and assertive version of me, not a cry baby.
“Construction?” Her confusion isn’t hidden, in fact, it’s so obvious I don’t even have to look at her to know it’s there. “You ride bulls, you’re a big shot, you make tons of money, and you work construction… For what, fun?”
Laughter spills from my chest. “I don’t ride bulls…not anymore. But, I’m flattered ya think I’m a rich big shot. Far from it, but flattered.” Pausing, I question how she knows that, but also feeling warmth in her compliment. “I guess ya do have somethin’ nice to say, Angel.”
“I said don’t call me that.” She says it like I ruffled her feathers, but this time it’s a bit more lighthearted.
She hesitates to speak, freeing a slow, steady breath, and though I’d love to peek at her as she contemplates her words, I keep my eyes forward as instructed.
“I remember you,” she whispers, almost like it’s a secret she’s not sure she wants to share.
I think back to months ago when I first saw her.
She glanced at me from across the bar, and for the first time in a long time it wasn’t a look filled with lust or a need to get close to me because of my title or the buckles I wear.
Not an ounce of desire for the limelight I constantly found myself in.
Honestly, she looked pissed. Pissed at the guy near her, pissed at me, heck, pissed at everything, and something about that excited me.
Mostly because it wasn’t a facade focused on fame.
She didn’t want me, and for whatever reason, I liked it even then.
And it’s unclear why, but I’ve carried that moment with me since.
“I remember you too.”