Chapter Twelve Blaze
Chapter Twelve
Blaze
I can’t believe that fucking guy took her here to this shithole, making like it’s a date. Doesn’t she see through his bullshit?
I wrap my fingers tight around the steering wheel, jealousy coiling tight in my gut. Because yeah, I’m fucking envious. I wanna be the one next to Savannah, the reason for the smile on her face and her laughter in the air.
I turn off the ignition and jump out of the truck, chewing on a toothpick as I glare at Savannah and her date through the dusty window of the Boot Barn.
My eyes don’t linger there too long, though.
From my spot in the parking lot, I can see other people in the place, shooting pool, throwing darts, dancing in the center of the sticky, makeshift floor next to the jukebox.
Hank Williams Jr. drifts through the broken screen door, along with the stench of stale beer and leather.
Everyone looks happy. Talking, laughing, dancing.
But I know Wilkerson’s got eyes everywhere.
And if he’s using Savannah as leverage against me, he knows she’s here right now.
Which means one of his goons might be sniffing around her.
But the stakes are bigger now, and he’s not going to settle for scaring her.
If he goes after her again, it’ll be worse. So much worse, I can’t even stomach the thought of it.
I stalk toward the entrance, my boots landing heavy on the gravel-covered lot. The door squeaks as I yank it open.
I tug the brim of my hat low, unable to tear my eyes off her. She’s in tight jeans that hug every curve and a loose-fitting shirt unbuttoned enough that anyone looking can get a great view of her luscious tits. Long blond hair flows down her back. Her eyes glitter as Tyler lightly brushes her arm.
I grip the edge of the cracked wooden bar, fingertips digging into the grain almost as hard as my jaw clenches.
She should be looking at me that way, not him. Christ, he sticks out like a sore thumb, wearing those stupid loafers and chinos. And much as I wanna hate him for getting close to her, he looks like a decent guy. Like someone who isn’t gonna hurt her and break her heart.
Unlike me.
No, I don’t hate him. I wanna be him.
The bartender nods at me and puts a shooter of Wild Turkey down on the bar in front of me. “Appreciate your service, Blaze.”
My throat tightens to the point where I can barely squeeze out a breath. I grab the glass and toss it back.
A peal of laughter shatters my ears. I whip my head around to see Savannah giggling at something Tyler just said. He grins, looking damn pleased with himself. And that’s my cue to wipe that smug look off his frat-boy face.
Another shot of Wild Turkey appears in front of me, and just as I’m ready to shoot it, the creaky screen door swings open again, and my brother Wyatt walks in, a shit-eating grin on his face.
A few of his friends clap him on the back in greeting as he entertains them all with details of his win tonight.
I stay in the corner, watching as he approaches Savannah.
He always had a thing for her when we were younger, but Savvie had eyes for another Hartman man.
Life is all about the choices we make. I chose fucking badly a million times over, which meant I would never have the happy ending.
“Savvie Carlson! I’ll be damned. Never thought I’d see you in a place like this.”
Savannah’s face lights up. Anger rips a hole in my heart when she pulls him in for an unnecessarily long hug. “Wyatt! I heard you’ve been tearing it up on the rodeo circuit.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, a playful grin lifting his lips. “I guess I’m not cut out to be a powerhouse-boardroom type like you.”
They talk for a little while longer. It’s easy. Comfortable. And I fucking hate how comfortable my younger brother looks.
I love Wyatt. I do. But he’d better get his fucking paws off her before I go over there and cut the fuckers off.
He doesn’t know about what happened between me and Savvie.
So there’s nothing stopping him from making a move now.
Not even Tyler, who he’s glanced over at exactly once.
Wyatt’s never been one to worry about competition.
He’s more of a “steal the show” kinda guy.
And Tyler doesn’t look like he has the balls to send Wyatt packing.
Tyler won’t have a lick of a chance if Wyatt wants Savannah’s attention.
I stare so hard that when she looks over at me, I jump. Caught.
Then, just to twist the knife, she loops her arm through Wyatt’s and leans in close to say something to him. A hearty laugh follows, and Wyatt hugs her close.
Motherfucker.
Anger claws at my insides at the sight of him touching her.
The screen door slams behind me. I slant a glance at the group of ranch hands who just walked in. I recognize a couple of them from Billings. My skin crawls as one of them points to Savannah and walks over to her, edging past Wyatt. Tyler stays close to her. At least he’s not a total pussy.
Glenn Baker. Shit, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him. Not long enough, though.
Nash’s words rattle my brain.
“If they see your face . . . if they know you’re back . . .”
“City girl slummin’ it with the townies, huh?” Glenn leans in, drapes an arm around her shoulders, and flashes a smile full of all the things that make my gut clench. “Maybe you need a real man to show you around.”
“Watch yourself, Glenn,” Wyatt says. “She ain’t looking.”
“Well, how do ya know that, Hartman?” Glenn says with an exaggerated drawl. “Maybe she likes a man who knows how to use his hands for a livin’.”
“Why don’t you leave the lady alone?” Tyler says. It’s almost worse that he said anything at all. Glenn could crush him like a bug under that big-ass boot of his. Tyler doesn’t back down, though. Maybe Clark Kent’s gonna disappear into the back and show up in his cape and tights.
Glenn levels him with a glare, and the other guys in his crew circle around him, beers in hand.
Savannah doesn’t flinch. She flings Glenn’s arm off her. “I don’t appreciate being touched. And I really don’t care what you do with those hands. Just keep them away from me.”
“Aw, come on, darlin’,” one of the other guys says, edging around Wyatt. “He just wants to have a little fun. We all do.”
“She ain’t interested,” Wyatt says through clenched teeth.
“I think you need to focus more on ridin’ your bull than with who’s ridin’ my cock, lil boy,” Glenn growls.
A thick haze of red clouds my vision. I push through clusters of people and shove my hands against Glenn’s chest. He doesn’t see me coming and stumbles back into the pool table.
“Back the fuck off,” I say, pushing myself against him so he’s stuck with his ass against the table.
“Hey, Hartman,” Glenn says. “Heard you were back. You always thought you were such hot shit. You tryin’ to play hero back home now too?”
“I’m just telling you to leave her alone.” My voice is low. Menacing. But he doesn’t seem to give a shit. And that’s gonna be very painful for him.
“And I’m tellin’ you to go fuck yourself,” Glenn says, shoving his hands against my chest. But my feet stay rooted.
I grab him by the wrist and bend it back so far, it’s damn near ready to snap. Chairs scrape against the floor, and people fall silent around us.
“Wanna try again?” I ask.
He yelps in pain as I bend it farther back. “Fuck, fine. I’ll leave her. Plenty more interesting pussy in this place.”
I bend it a tiny bit more for good measure before letting go.
Glenn’s eyes narrow, malice swirling deep. “Don’t think I forgot about you, Hartman. And don’t fool yourself into thinkin’ I won’t be back for ya.”
I give him a good shove and grab Savannah’s hand to pull her behind me and away from the group of drunk ranch hands.
“Blaze,” she hisses, trying to pull her hand free as I march her out of the place. I let go and stare down at her, the flickering neon sign casting a glow on her fury.
“I was on a date. And your brother was there. I didn’t need a savior.”
“That’s right. You keep telling me that you can handle yourself just fine.” I lean close, dipping my head down low. “But you don’t know what those guys are capable of. And they don’t take kindly to the word ‘no.’”
“Stop treating me like a child. I’m a grown woman, and I can handle a handsy asshole in a bar, thank you very much. It’s not like I went to Denver to enter the convent.”
Shit, that stung. And I don’t like hearing that there have been other guys who’ve dared put hands on her. If I ever catch anyone near her again—
“Blaze,” she says. “You don’t own me. And I’m trying to make a life for myself here, for as long as I stay.
So leave me alone. It’s been years. We both shoulda moved on by now.
” Her eyes flash, and she twists on her boot heel, stomping toward her car a few feet away.
She clicks the alarm and then turns toward me one last time.
“Stay away from me, Blaze. We are finished.” She gets in and slams the door shut, and the car shoots out of the lot, spraying up gravel in my direction.
My shoulders slump, fists clenched tight because I know I just fucked everything up by letting every last sliver of self-control slip. I only wanted to protect her.
And if she didn’t hate me before, she sure as hell does now that I cockblocked her. The thought of Tyler making his way over to Red Rock to check on her has my pulse punching a hole through my throat.
I walk over to my truck and give the back tire a hard kick. The light overhead catches on something attached to the windshield. I grab the piece of paper stuck under the wiper blade and unfold it, my lungs tightening like all the air has been sucked out of them.
My blood ices. It’s a photo of Savannah walking down Main Street.
Only one word is written on the paper.
Mine.