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Chapter 17

CASSIDY

Shawn’s equipment at the butcher shop made it a cinch to transfer the dozen carcasses from the truck into the shop. Briar’s help had not been needed—nor was Doc’s, and he’d taken that time to set up for the first necropsies instead. While we were there, the only moment I saw Briar move was to slide from the driver’s seat to the passenger side in my truck, which was where she now sat, as stiff as a board and not speaking as I drove us toward the rodeo.

Her fingers twisted the ends of her hair that pooled in her lap. I knew she noticed my staring, I knew I should’ve stopped, but I couldn’t help my constant glances at her. There was no hat on her head, and she wasn’t wearing her usual oversized T-shirt that hid her figure away. No, she had on a ruffled, polka-dotted blouse a shade of blue so deep it brought out the intense gray moonlight that were her irises.

She pulled her plump, bottom lip between her teeth, and the lashes that were normally almost non-existent were coated in a very thin layer of mascara. My heart fluttered like a bird just taking flight in spring. She was beautiful when dressed down in her typical men’s jeans and no make-up flare, but this… This was something different.

But there was a heavy storm cloud hanging over her, one that I wanted to get rid of for her. I wanted to fight off any battle that she faced for her, so she never had to taste the fate of death’s hands ever again.

“Do I have a stain somewhere or something?” she suddenly asked, finally speaking. I leaned against the windowsill, keeping one hand on the steering column.

“No,” I answered, shaking my head.

“Then why do you keep staring at me?” She raised a brow, finally halting her fidgeting, and shifted her gaze briefly toward me. I couldn’t stop the smile that cracked on my lips and quickly looked out the front windshield as shadows of trees passed us. The yellow of my headlights blended with the sun settling at the top of the Rockies, ready to disappear for the evening.

“It’s nothin’,” I muttered.

She crossed her arms, slender and delicate, driving my mind mad with the desire to dance my fingers across the skin they knew was so soft. “That look means something and I can’t figure it out,” she hissed in response.

I clenched my jaw, sliding my teeth over each other. Her boundaries, Cassidy, I reminded myself. This was not the time to tell her the exact desires that were running through my mind. Telling her how badly I wanted her to scoot over to the middle and let me put my hand on her thigh or sling an arm around her shoulders was not appropriate. I doubt she even realized that my intentions for tonight had been more than to distract her.

Being seen with her, showing her off, taking her on a date was at the forefront of my mind, and I wasn’t sure if I should voice it or not.

“Cassidy Duke, answer me, because I’m stressed enough about everything else,” she quickly added as a frown tightened her typically soft features.

“The whole purpose of tonight is to make sure you forget about that,” I answered, purposefully avoiding what she was seeking.

Her shoulders sagged, crushed by my response, and shame swam in my stomach. She leaned toward the side window, her gaze sliding across the scenery as we turned from the desolate backroads and cruised toward the fairgrounds bustling bright in the distance.

“Your truck drives really nice,” she muttered.

I exhaled slowly, hoping this meant she wasn’t going to be too mad at me all night. “Thanks, Goldie, but don’t think I’m letting you do that again.” I winked. She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched upwards.

“Why not? I didn’t get a scratch on your new chrome paint job, just like you asked.” She raised a brow.

“True.” I slowed the truck, pulling behind a line of vehicles crawling forward.

“Wow, I didn’t expect it to be this busy!” she exclaimed, sitting a little higher upright in my single cab F-100.

“Brookeside and Riverford take turns hosting the rodeo. Tonight, it’s Brookeside, but most families come from both towns.” We inched forward as another vehicle turned into the dirt parking lot circling half of the fairground. Stadium seats rose high in the middle, surrounding the arena where the hum of voices and the drum of music bounced lightly into the night air.

“Small towns, not much else to do, huh?” she mindlessly answered, her voice a little lighter than it had been.

“Bonfires, blowing things up, mudding, trail rides, skinny dippin’, making—”

“I got it, dummy,” she cut me off and rolled her eyes.

“I’m just sayin’, people underestimate the amount of mischief you can cause in a small town.” Turning my signal on, I steered the truck from the road, and we bumped over mud and patchy field grass around to the back of the fairgrounds. Anytime I came to rodeos with my buddies, this was the way we’d go since the back parking lot wasn’t as well known and more frequented by competitors.

“You would know that,” she muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked as I guided the truck behind the few other vehicles doing the same thing as us.

“Just that I figured you’d be involved in stuff like that.”

I sighed, my belly swirling with guilt and shame. She wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t something I was super proud of being known for. “That was a long time ago,” I grumbled.