Page 8 of Ace of Spades (Hidden Creek Ranch #1)

“What do you mean?” I ask, feigning innocence even though I could already feel my cheeks heating in the chilly March air.

It was surprisingly perfect weather tonight, and I had put on my favorite pair of jeans and boots, with a light jacket that showed just enough of a hint of cleavage to hopefully rattle Weston without seeming too obvious .

“Oh, come on, I’m not blind. Everyone can see that there’s something going on between you two.”

“Yeah, that something being pure loathing.”

“You’re not fooling anyone. It’s like there’s this electricity between you guys, this crazy intensity.”

“You’re delusional,” I tell her, looking around at the people setting up a speaker and a keg at one end of the arena. My heart hitched as I spotted the navy blue truck pulling down the driveway, sitting up straighter in anticipation.

“Right, I’m the delusional one,” Ava says, rolling her eyes.

I ignore her, hopping down from the railing and making my way over to one of the coolers to grab myself a drink.

I hadn’t spoken with Weston since Utah, having only briefly seen him around at some of the rodeos, and the thought of seeing him again had me feeling some type of way.

He was irritating, yes—but he was also definitely not unpleasant to look at.

I feigned nonchalance as the three of them got out of Chance’s truck before spotting me and heading my way.

“Happy Birthday, Hails!” Chance greets me, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me off of the ground.

“Thank you,” I laugh, hugging him in return before embracing Rafe.

“Sorrels,” Weston greets, offering me a forced smile. Oh, so it was going to be like that, then?

I offer him a saccharine smile in return, crossing my arms as I assess him.

“Langford. ”

“Nice place,” he drawls, making a show of looking around at the estate.

“Thanks,” I say in my sweetest voice. “Don’t get used to it though, I’ll be moving soon. Daddy bought me a house for my birthday, isn’t that so sweet of him?”

I notice the tick in his jaw, his features hardening for the briefest of moments, and I knew I had him. His perfectly cool facade cracked for a fleeting second before he recovered, and I could feel the satisfaction coursing through me.

“Dang, that’s awesome! Here in Cedar Creek?” Chance asks.

“Yep,” I smile. “It’s just under five acres, and it’s got a stable and everything. I’m going to take a look at it tomorrow. Guess you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

I knew that I was being childish. I realized that it was petty, and that I was proving to be exactly who he thought I was, but something about what happened with my dad earlier just made me want to lash out—and Weston was the perfect person to aim that frustration towards.

“Can’t wait to see it,” Rafe tells me, clapping me on the shoulder before going to find himself a drink.

“What’s wrong, Weston?” I ask, batting my eyelashes at the man in question who remains silent. “Did I say something wrong?”

He takes a step towards me, leaning down as his deep voice grazes the shell of my ear, sending shivers skating down my spine .

“Nah, you see—I know exactly what you’re doing, and I’m not interested. You can goad me on all you want, but I’ve got better things to do than indulge in your bratty behavior.”

I swallow back the lump forming in my throat.

“Happy Birthday, Sorrels,” he offers, giving me a devilish smile before following after Rafe.

My eyes burned, and I felt like I had just had a bucket of ice water poured over my head, whatever fire he had lit inside me now completely extinguished. I wasn’t going to let myself cry over his words, I refused to let them get to me.

I look back at Chance, who awkwardly stands there, pretending not to have heard anything.

“So…” he rubs his nape, nervously looking around. “Have you taken any birthday shots yet?”

“Nope,” I tell him, pulling myself together. “Take me to the liquor.”

“Go, Chance, go!” I yell, cheering him on as he slips and loses his footing rounding the second barrel. I break into laughter, still cheering as he drunkenly runs to the third, giving it everything he has.

The barrels had been pushed closer together to make up for the fact that we were racing through the sand on foot, and with everyone easily buzzed by now, the slips and falls proved to be quite entertaining .

According to Ava, who had been timing each competitor, the rules were simple—chug a full beer, run the barrel pattern on foot without touching any of the barrels, and the fastest time wins.

I watch Chance stumble around each turn, the crowd cheering him on and then breaking into laughter as he baseball-style slides through the finish line marked in the sand.

“Hell yeah!” he cheers, pumping his fist in the air before making his way back to where his friends lean back against the arena railing. I made it a point not to look over at Weston, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“How about the birthday girl now!” Ava hollers from where she stands on the railing, grabbing onto the arched arena entryway for support as she makes the announcement.

“Birthday girl, birthday girl,” she chants, the rest of the crowd joining in.

I shake my head, making my way to the starting line, knowing damn well that she won’t let me get away with not taking a turn.

Some guy that I had gone to high school with—Stetson, I think—hands me a solo cup filled to the brim as I take off my boots, planting my bare feet in the sand as I get myself into an athletic stance.

Adrenaline floods my veins as I feel all eyes on me, my heart racing a mile a minute as Ava starts the countdown.

“GO!”

I bring the cup to my lips, chugging the cool liquid with a swiftness that I didn’t even know I had, downing the entire thing as beer trickles down my chin and all over my chest before throwing it over my shoulder and taking off.

I can’t hold back my laughter as I race as fast as I can, slipping and sliding in the cool sand until I crash across the finish line.

“Way to go, Hailey!” Ava cheers, the crowd going wild.

Music blares from the speakers, the arena lights illuminating all of us as we dance, mingle, and play some more drinking games.

At some point in the night, I realize I’m well and truly buzzed, catching up with one of the girls that I hadn’t seen since leaving Canyon Springs four years ago, when Kinley and one of her blonde friends—whose name I don’t remember—runs up to me.

“Hailey!” she exclaims, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and taking a drink of her canned cocktail. Kinley was from Cedar Creek, I knew that from briefly meeting her on the circuit, but I couldn’t quite place where I knew her friend from.

“Hey, Kinley.”

“So we were thinking we could bring some of the horses out and get some real drinking games going.” Her friend asks. “Have you heard of that game where we put a beer on each barrel and the rider has to run the pattern while grabbing and chugging each one? How much fun would that be!”

“Um,” I start, shrugging out from under Kinley’s arm to face her friend. “Yeah, I’m sure it would be, but I’m not bringing any of the horses out tonight with this many people here.”

“Why not? You bring them to rodeos with bigger crowds than this,” she pushes.

“Look, I’m not bringing them out when we’ve all been drinking, I’m sorry,” I tell them, hoping that they would drop it after that .

“Totally get it,” Kinley tells me, her friend not seeming to have the same reaction.

“Ugh, you’re such a buzzkill,” she tells me, rolling her eyes as she turns to walk away. The attitude didn’t surprise me, coming from someone who grew up here and most likely isn’t a fan of mine, but what did surprise me was the audacity that came next.

“No wonder Brad said you were bland,” she mutters, turning to walk away. Kinley looks between the two of us, offering me an apologetic glance before following after her friend.

“Excuse me?”

I was far from a conformational person. If anything, I was the type to let things slide way too often in hopes of not starting unnecessary drama.

But after the day I had earlier, and the few drinks I had–not to mention the fact that it was my birthday, at my house–I didn’t have it in me to keep my mouth shut.

“I said,” she turns around, looking me in the eyes and not backing down in the slightest. “Bradley called you bland. I think the word vanilla also came up, actually.”

The people around us turn their attentions towards the commotion, and it finally clicks where I recognized her from—she was the blonde that Brad had his arm around at the bar in Texas back in January, the first rodeo of the season.

“And when exactly was this?”

A downright bitchy smile curves at her lips, nothing but pure malice, and it became clear she was loving every single second of this.

“Back at his hotel in Texas, right after he got done fucking my brains out,” she says with a saccharine smile, and I feel blood rushing to my ears. “Right after he told me all about how you’re a prude and he only keeps you around because of who your parents are.”

“You fucking—” I lunge at her just as two strong arms wrap around my middle, lifting me off of the ground and pulling me back as Kinley’s friend begins laughing.

“Get out of here, Kelly,” Weston speaks from behind me, his voice oozing command.

“You too, Kinley—get her the fuck out of here,” Rafe adds from somewhere behind me.

“Let me down!” I yell at Weston, trying to kick my way out of his arms to no avail.

“Whatever, this party was getting lame anyways,” the blonde—Kelly—says, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she and Kinley make their way out, everyone turning back to their conversations as the party continues around us.

“I said let me down, Weston! Now!”

He finally lets me go, and I spin on my heels to face him as soon as my feet hit the sand.

“Leave me alone!” I roar at him, my eyes blurry with unshed tears. It’s all too much. I can feel myself breaking as I storm off, feeling eyes on me as I stop at a random cooler, digging inside until I find what I’m looking for—an ice-cold bottle of tequila—and run out of the arena.