Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Once again, every face in the bar turns in our direction. My eyes dart between my brother’s heaving chest and Houston’s malevolent grin, both their bodies angled forward in preparation for a fight.
Icy dread coats the lining of my stomach. “Noah, please . I’m handling it.”
“Wait outside, Willa,” he growls, swaying slightly until he steadies himself.
Houston’s smile stretches into a sneer. “Yeah, Willa ,” he taunts, somehow managing to make my name sound like an insult. “Why don’t you go wait outside? I’m gonna have a quick chat with your brother, and then you and I can?—”
Crunch. I flinch as Noah’s fist connects with Houston’s jaw.
The entire bar quiets and then fills with the high-pitched squeal of moving chairs as people rise to their feet. After a second, low murmurs flare to life in pockets around the room—like the patrons are trying to decide if this is a fight they need to get involved in or not. A few of the old-timers take their seats once they realize who the argument is between, but Noah’s friends and some of the newer cowboys from Crowe Ranch roll up their sleeves and inch their way over, crowding around us in a silent standoff with one another.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Houston says through a laugh, taking a step closer so he and Noah are chest to chest. “You’ll have to hit a lot harder than that if you want me to feel it.”
I grab onto my brother’s arm. “Noah, don’t . He’s not worth it.”
Too lost in a cloud of rage to even look in my direction, he shrugs me off and gets right back up in Houston’s face.
My lungs pinch and my pulse quickens when Noah’s friends start arguing with Houston’s ranch buddies in earnest, the air around us thickening like a pressure cooker about to explode. Dammit. If I don’t act quickly, Noah’s going to get himself hurt—or worse, arrested and kicked out of the house.
An ear-splitting whistle rings out through the bar, and I turn just in time to see Luciana pulling two fingers away from her lips.
“That’s enough! I’m callin’ the cops on whoever throws the next fucking punch,” she hollers. “Unless you want to watch the fireworks from a jail cell tonight, I strongly recommend goin’ back to your drinks.”
Seizing the momentary distraction, I shove myself into the minuscule amount of space between the men, placing two hands on my brother’s heaving chest and pushing him toward the door. “Noah, let’s just go.”
His eyes meet mine, glassy and a little bloodshot. “That asshole touched you, Wills,” he whispers through a hiccup. “I saw from across the bar. He fuckin’ touched you.”
Houston laughs. “I was going to do a lot more than that. If you think your twink ass?—”
Gritting my teeth, I jab my elbow backward into Houston’s gut as hard as I can.
A whoosh of air escapes his lips as he doubles over. “What the fuck?” he grunts, clearly caught off guard by the assault. “ Crazy bitch . Fuck you and your fa ?—”
I spin around, fist poised to land another blow, when a hand appears out of nowhere, grabbing Houston by the throat and slamming him against the poster-lined pillar. The whole ceiling shakes with the impact, several of the ancient dollar bills falling to the floor around us.
“Think very hard before you finish that sentence,” Ryker growls, his jaw tight and cheeks stained with fury. Houston’s mouth gapes open and closed like a fish, but Ryker keeps up the pressure on his windpipe, cutting off his air supply along with whatever vile filth he was going to spew.
“Are you okay?” Ryker asks out of the side of his mouth while a commotion of some sort erupts behind us.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I croak, earning me a curt nod.
“Marco,” Ryker calls over his shoulder, biceps straining against the tight white fabric of his T-shirt, “take Noah outside. I’ll meet you there in a sec.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the guys Houston came with break a beer bottle over someone’s head and turn towards us, but he’s on the ground a second later with three of Noah’s friends piled on top of him. The brawl only escalates from there, threats and fists exchanged like oxygen as more drunk patrons join the fray. The mayor’s sharp command for them to “knock it the hell off” rises above the music a second later, but no one stops fighting.
Marco hoisting Noah’s arm over his shoulder draws my attention back to the problem at hand. “Alright, let’s get you out of here,” he says, tone void of his normal patience.
Leaving a trail of citrusy cologne in his wake, Marco flashes me a small smile before leading my less-than-cooperative brother through the brawling crowd toward the door. Noah fights him every step of the way, making vague threats about breaking Houston’s face while repeatedly trying to join the fight with his friends.
“Willa.” I jump a little at the rough way Ryker says my name, his voice full of gravel and rage. “You have approximately five seconds to hit this guy in the face or I’m doing it for you.”
Shocked, I just stare. Noah would never let me?—
“Three seconds, Princess. Two…”
I ball my fist and throw the hardest punch I can right into Houston’s ugly mug. Molten pain streaks up my arm at the same time something in the asshole’s nose pops, sending a spray of blood pouring down his lips and onto his shirt.
God, that felt good. Hurt like hell, but otherwise really good.
I take a step away, running my thumb across my throbbing knuckles to soothe the ache.
“I said that’s enough! Take it outside,” the mayor bellows over the chaotic chorus of cursing and cheering patrons, but no one is listening to her.
The second Ryker releases Houston, his hands fly to his bloodied face. “You little bitch ,” he growls at me, blood-tinged spittle spraying from his mouth.
Still fuming, I ball my hand and line up my next punch, only to watch Houston’s head snap back when Ryker’s fist connects with his jaw.
“ Goddammit ,” Houston cries out, voice high-pitched and nasally as he struggles to remain upright. “She’s the one who broke my nose, you fucking prick!”
“Yeah, well, you hurt her hand,” Ryker says simply. Then, in one swift move, he swoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of feed. My stomach slams into his shoulder, knocking the wind right out of my lungs.
“Put me down,” I screech as soon as I can breathe again, flailing against his hold and kicking my feet.
“No fucking way.” Ryker makes a muffled grunting sound, and then I’m momentarily airborne as he readjusts my position and wraps a single arm around both my legs, securing them firmly to his chest before heading for the door.
With my ass in the air and zero ability to cover myself, my face flushes with heat. “Ryker Bennett, put me down this instant!” I squawk as he weaves us through the fight.
“Not happening.” He kicks the door open, and fresh evening air and a chorus of cicadas erupts around us. “What the hell was that back there?” he seethes. “Didn’t Noah teach you how to throw a punch?”
“You’re joking, right?” I grunt, trying to free myself—to no avail.
“ Fuck .” He rakes his free hand roughly through his hair, the tips of his fingers grazing my ribs. “If I’d known you were just going to try to break your hand, I never would’ve let you hit that guy. Your dad’s going to kill me.”
“You didn’t let me do shit. I didn’t need your permission to break that idiot’s nose,” I say indignantly, my voice so squeaky I sound hysterical.
It might be the vodka making me bold or maybe the adrenaline from punching Houston, but I’m tired of everyone thinking they need to protect me.
“Put me down.” I kick my feet.
“Stop it, Willa,” Ryker warns, voice low and dangerous, but I’m rearing for a good fight.
I aim the tip of my boot at his gut. “Or wha?—”
Smack.
Ryker’s palm connects with my ass, the sharp slap ringing out through the night air…
Heart hammering rapidly against my rib cage, I go entirely still.
Did he just…spank me?
Warmth seeps into my stomach, pulsing lower and lower until I feel it in my toes. Confused and slightly embarrassed, I squirm to get free. “Ryk?—”
Smack.
He spanks me again, and I must be drunk or out of my damn mind because my body floods with a new sensation that’s concentrated entirely at the apex of my thighs. Slowly, the feeling fans out until my skin is tingling and my brain feels all fuzzy.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why did that feel so… good ?
With the sting still reverberating across my backside, all the other noise in my head goes quiet. My dad is probably already on his way to arrest me and my brother for punching Houston, but the only thing I can think about is the searing handprint-shaped sensation on my butt and the deep feeling of calm each time I inhale the rain-soaked pine and faint honeysuckle scent of Ryker’s back.
Worse yet, I’ve clearly lost my mind because I want him to do it again. My pulse picks up, my breaths becoming shallower with each forced inhale.
“ Behave ,” he warns, delivering another sharp smack across my ass when I start to squirm and accidentally kick him in the ribs. This time when his hand connects, I arch into it, letting loose a whimper at the delicious sting.
“ Jesus . Knock that off,” Ryker mumbles under his breath, the fingers of his opposite hand contracting against the back of my thigh.
My mouth drops open, my skin thrumming as every nerve ending in my body comes to life. “Ryker, I—” I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but I need something . “ Please .”
“Please what ?” His voice is low, his breaths uneven. “Put you down? Are you going to behave now?”
My body pulses like a live wire. “No,” I say, biting my lip as I shake my head.
Ryker hums, like he’s pleased with that answer, the vibration of his rumbling back against my stomach sending another wave of heat through my body. He pauses for a millisecond before removing his hand, then?—
Crack.
He spanks me again, this time much harder. I cry out at the impact, the pulse between my thighs going wild and my head flooding with a warm glow. Jesus Christ .
“What about now, Princess?” I can hear the smile on his lips and feel the light electric buzz of his amusement in the air. There’s something else there, too. Something dark and heady. “Are you going to keep fighting me, or do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”
A slight bubble of panic seeps into my consciousness. If I say no again, he’ll realize I’m enjoying this. But if I tell him I’ll calm down, he’ll stop… I close my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek to ward off a swarm of emotions I’d rather not analyze too carefully.
To hell with it. He’s leaving town soon anyway.
“I haven’t learned anything,” I say breathily, slowly inching my legs apart.
“ Fuck .” Ryker’s hand contracts again, fingers digging roughly into my leg for the briefest second before starting their painstakingly slow ascent up the back of my thigh?—
“Uh, guys?”
Ryker’s hand stops, and my head turns so fast to look behind me I think I give myself whiplash.
“Marco,” I gasp, spotting Isabel’s brother a few feet away. He lifts a brow at my squeaky tone, but I pretend like I don’t notice. With Ryker’s shoulder still digging into my abdomen, I glance to his left and right, but my brother is nowhere in sight. “Where’s Noah?”
“He just finished puking in the bushes.” Marco’s eyes dart to Ryker then back to me, suspicion casting shadows across his handsome features. “I didn’t have the keys to the Blazer or else I would have put him inside with the AC.”
I exhale. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
Eyes still narrowed, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “No problem. Y’all might want to hit the road. The mayor was calling the cops on my way out.”
“Shit. Thanks for the heads up,” Ryker mumbles, already striding toward the Chevy and making absolutely no move to put me down.
I wave to Marco as I’m carried away, the blood draining from my face when he waves back with his car keys in his hand.
Oh no. I can’t drive after the drink Isabel made me…
“Ry-ker?” I say, but his quick pace is bouncing me so much it comes out stilted.
“We’re almost to the car. I’ll put you down in a sec.” His grip on my legs tightens.
“No, that’s n-not it… I can’t drive us home.” Shame coats my ch eeks. What was I thinking? I was supposed to be the DD. I’ve never done anything this irresponsible before.
“I can drive,” he says, sliding me down the length of his body to place my feet on the pavement.
Sirens sound in the distance, and I do my very best to concentrate on the problem at hand—and not think about the way his hard body feels against mine, or the way his warm palm is still lingering on my hip.
Heart racing, I shake my head. “You’ve been drinking, you can’t drive us anywhere.”
Unfazed, Ryker lifts an eyebrow. “Have you seen me drink a single thing tonight?”
I think back. “No, but?—”
The hand he has on my hip slips into my pocket, followed by the sound of jingling keys. “Help me get your brother in the Blazer so we can get the hell out of here.”
I nod and follow him over to the curb where Noah is sitting with his head in his hands.
“Time to go, bud,” Ryker says, grabbing my brother’s arm and yanking him to his feet. “Your dad’s on the way and we’ve got to get you home.”
“We can’t go home ’til I sober up,” Noah drawls, swaying unsteadily as he shakes his head. “Shit. I threw the first punch, didn’t I? He’s going to kick me out this time...”
Ryker looks at me as if seeking confirmation.
I bob my chin, holding his stare as the sirens draw closer. “Dad’s going to find out either way, but it’ll help if Noah’s at least sober enough to defend himself. Wouldn’t hurt if we found a way to wash the barf off his shirt either.”
I move to my brother’s side, draping his arm over my shoulder and helping him to the back seat so he can lie down. Once he’s situated, I shut the door and turn toward Ryker.
“There’s a water pump at the gas station on FM 31 that still works. We could clean him up there?” I play the driving route out in my head and curse. “Never mind, the cops are coming from that direction. We’d have to go right by Dad.”
Ryker claps the back of his neck, pausing for a second before his eyes snap to mine. “Get in,” he says, reaching for the passenger door handle and ushering me through the opening. “I think I know a place.”