Page 73

A roar went through me, but I kept my demeanorunchanged.Married?He was getting married to this bitch on heels? Then why the hell was he kissing me?
She took a step closer, lowering her voice, “Stay away frommy man.”
I looked her in the eye and slowly shook my head. “You should have more dignity than this.”
Fiona stiffened. “Excuse me?”
I shrugged, voice calm, “I don’t fight over men. And neither should you.”
That’s when the ranch hands decided to have some fun, and as far as I saw it, she had no one to blame but herself for having this conversation with an audience.
Someone clapped. Another let out a low whistle. Then came the jeers.
“Damn, Miss Elena, tell her.”
“If he’s gonna marry her, I’m gonna eat my hat,” Clay announced.
“If he’s gonna marry her, she’s gonna make him eat his hat,” Ray decided.
Fiona’s face flushed red.
She looked around at the grinning cowboys and the stable hands, none of whom were even pretending not to be amused.
Her breath came sharp and fast, her fingers tightening around her tablet like she wanted to throw it at me.
I didn’t move. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat. I didn’t need to.
“Anything else?” I finally asked. “’Cause we’re busier than a hooker on nickel night.”
Fionaturned on her boot heel and marched out of the stable.
“She gonna come back?” Ben wanted to know.
“I fuckin’ hope not.” I rolled my shoulders. I had work to do.
But the universe had a beef against me because while I was brushing down Riot, our prized stallion set to run in the barrel racing finals, the damn horse decided he had an itch he couldn’t reach and nearly knocked me flat trying to scratch it against the stall door.
"Easy, you big bastard," I muttered, steadying myself as Riot leaned his full weight into me, rubbing his shoulder hard against the stall door like I was a fence post.
That’s when Duke decided to interrupt me. I felt him before I saw him—that shift in the air, like a storm rolling in.
Riot snorted, tossing his head as I shoved at his muscled frame, but my focus had already sharpened on the man standing just outside the stall.
“You always this bad at keeping your feet under you?” Duke asked, his voice lazy, amused.
I huffed, giving Riot one last firm brush before turning to face him. “Only when I’ve got a thirteen-hundred-pound animal trying to scratch his ass on me.”
Duke’s gaze flickered over the horse, then back to me. "He's running in the finals?"
"Fastest time in qualifiers. If he keeps his head straight, we’ll take home the buckle.”
Duke didn’t say anything at first. Just let hiseyes drift around the barn, taking in the saddles hung neatly on their racks, the dust hanging in the golden afternoon light, like he was remembering something. I was, too. We’d made love in this stable once, desperate for each other, wanting, wanting, wanting….
Finally, he whispered out a breath like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. "We need to talk."
I crossed my arms, leveling him with a stare. "That so?"
I went about taking care of Riot. “You know we’re busy, yeah? And, yet, first, I have Fiona walkin’ in here throwin’ her weight around, and now you.”