Page 15 of Hung Up (Shadow Ridge #1)
JACKSONVILLE
I really hope this isn’t a dream
“Look, not every ride can be perfect,” I tell Stetson as he leans against the wall in the locker room, waiting for me to change so we can go to the bar. “We still have over half of the season left. Don’t sweat it.”
“Says the guy who got another near-perfect score,” he grumbles, grabbing his duffel bag and swinging it over his shoulder.
I zip up my bag and stand, walking toward him with a grin. Slapping his shoulder as I step up to his side, I say, “You just need to find yourself a lucky charm.”
“I had a lucky charm,” he reminds me as he glances down at his boot-covered feet. “These socks haven’t steered me wrong yet. I don’t know what happened.”
“Some good lucky charms don’t last forever, man.” We walk out of the locker room and meet the others in the hallway, heading out in a group toward the parking lot. “Maybe see if Rylie has any luck up her sleeve.”
“What, like Faith seems to?”
I give him a wink before walking ahead of him, sliding up next to Wyatt as we approach his vehicle.
They gave him an SUV big enough to fit the six of us this time.
Wyatt demanded we all stay together this trip, like the dad of the group that he is.
I waste no time running ahead of them to reach the passenger side door, refusing to be stuck in the back with the rest of them.
The entire drive there, I end up tuning out the arguing boys in the back, my mind immediately drifting to none other than a certain curly-haired reporter.
She had avoided me from the moment we stepped into the arena, talking to every rider she saw except me.
I’m starting to think I came on way too strong on the beach earlier, but my mouth had gotten away from me, saying the first thing that came to my mind before I could think better of it.
I won’t take back a single word of it, though—it was all true.
Thankfully, she sat up on the platform again to watch my ride, but by the time I landed on my feet and had turned to look at her, she was gone.
Maxine greeted me afterward and told me Faith had taken off, stating she was done for the day and didn’t have any other interviews left.
I had thought of telling Wyatt to drop me off at the hotel before they went to the bar so I could track her down, but after Kai slipped into first in the standings tonight, all he wanted to do was hit the bars with us and I didn’t have it in me to say no.
So here I am, in a car with other loud and obnoxious bull riders—two of which are riding a high from good rides, two who are pissed off with their rides, and one who just wants to get to the bar in one piece—while I want nothing more than to track down the woman I can’t stop thinking about and show her just exactly what’s been on my mind.
I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since Indianapolis.
Okay, that’s a lie. I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind since I first saw her in Sacramento.
But each week, the train of thought has been different.
It went from wondering if she had something to prove and was only here for the challenge to wondering if she truly was your typical stuck-up city girl.
Then I couldn’t stop thinking about her defensiveness and her prickly personality, constantly curious as to why she was the way she was.
And then I started having dreams about her.
Some were as simple as us having dinner together, while others had us in some… compromising positions.
So of course when I overheard Faith and Kai at the beach talking about getting her laid I had to throw my name in the picking.
I’d be a fool not to at least plant that seed.
My focus has shifted so easily from wanting that buckle to wanting her—and I don’t care in what shape or form it happens.
She can say she only wants me for one night and I’d make it the best night of her life and say thank you afterward.
She could say she wants to marry me and I’d look for the nearest courthouse.
Somehow, someway, with only the most minor of interactions and sarcastic quips and jabs—with some small genuine and open moments sprinkled in between—Faith Thompson has me wrapped around her finger, ready to drop to my knees for her.
I’m a weak, weak man.
“Okay, boys,” Wyatt announces as he parks the car in the bar's parking lot. “I know we don’t ride tomorrow but we are driving to Milwaukee first thing in the morning since someone dropped the ball on getting us flights.”
“Hey, no one reminded me?—”
Wyatt doesn’t let Stetson finish. “So please no shots, and don’t overdo it on your drinks tonight, alright? If you throw up in this car tomorrow, you’re walking.”
After some grumbles of agreement, we all get out of the car and make our way into the bar.
The first thing that hits me is the music.
We were able to find a country bar not too far away from the hotel and there’s a live band playing.
It’s not as crowded here as some of the other bars we’ve stopped at in other cities, which gives me some reprieve.
The second thing I notice is a group line dancing on the dance floor, which Stetson immediately makes a beeline for.
But the third thing? That’s what stops me in my tracks halfway to the bar.
Faith, laying up on the bar with some guy taking a shot out of her belly button.
I’m moving before I’m aware I’m doing so, cutting through the crowd and heading straight for her.
The man is now standing as everyone around them cheers, but I’m putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him away as I step up to Faith.
She’s sitting up on the bar now, staring at me with wide eyes before they narrow into slits.
“You always have to ruin my fun, don’t you, Pretty Boy?” She huffs as she slides off the bar top, but once her feet hit the floor, she’s slightly unsteady. I grab her arm to stabilize her, but she swats me away. “I don’t need your help, okay?”
“Sweetheart—”
“Don’t you ‘Sweetheart’ me.” She pushes me out of the way and starts to head toward the hallway where the bathrooms are located. “Why don’t you go round up your boys and leave me alone?”
I follow behind her but am stopped by Kai just before she slips into the women’s room. “I think maybe you should leave her alone.”
“What the hell did I do?” I ask, turning to him with a confused expression. “Was it what I said at the beach?”
“Maybe partly, but I don’t think that is what this is.” I raise a brow but Kai just shrugs. “It’s not my place to say, man. I’m sorry.”
I groan and tilt my head back, my hat bumping against the wall.
When I look back at Kai, I see him extending a beer in my direction.
I gratefully accept, taking a long swig before I let my eyes roam the space.
Stetson is front and center on the dance floor, leading the group through the next line dance.
Bryce is over at the bar with Wyatt watching Stetson and Lee, while the latter is leaning against a table, his head bowed next to a woman.
“Not going to get out there?” I ask, gesturing toward the dancers. “Thought you enjoyed dancing.”
“I enjoy dancing with someone,” he clarifies. “Not a big fan of twirling around on the floor on my own.”
Seeing a woman across the way eyeing him up, I point. “You don’t have to do it alone. Go ask that girl to dance.”
“Can’t.” Kai shrugs and takes a sip of his own beer. “Can’t be dancing with a woman that’s not my Georgia.”
I turn my entire body toward him, my grin growing at the sign of his distress over his obvious slip-up. “Georgia, huh? Oh please, do tell me more.”
Before he can tell me—or refuse to, more like—Faith comes stumbling down the hallway and pushes past me.
I watch as she heads toward the bar, orders a shot, and tosses it back without a second thought.
My eyes widen, but before I can go up there and tell her to slow down, Wyatt leans down to whisper something in her ear.
Her face contorts as her cheeks grow red, fists curling at her sides as she says something back.
He looks somewhat apologetic, but whatever he says next causes her to loosen her fists.
Bryce hands her a glass of clear liquid—water, probably—that she takes and downs in its entirety.
She storms off toward the front doors, bumping into a few people along the way.
My gaze drifts back over to the bar to see Wyatt already staring at me, and once our gazes connect, he gestures for me to follow her.
I waste no time in running after her, emerging into the slightly busy streets.
Hastily looking around, I feel my heart rate quicken when I don’t spot her right away.
Which way could she have gone?
I decide to head to the right, praying I can find her in the throng of people.
But as I’m passing by the gap between this bar and the one next to it, a hand reaches out and yanks me out of the light from the streetlamps and into the dark of the alleyway.
I startle for a moment, my fight or flight mode kicking in— I will punch someone if I have to —but once my eyes adjust, I immediately recognize Faith’s curls.
“Jesus, Sweetheart,” I breathe, putting a hand to my frantically beating heart. “You can’t just?—”
Before I can finish my sentence and my brain can even process what’s happening, Faith presses her body into mine, wraps her arms around my neck, and pulls my lips down to hers.
I really hope this isn’t a dream. Please don’t let this be a dream.
Her lips are claiming yet soft, moving against mine with a desperation that has me fumbling.
My hands find their way to her hips as I pull her impossibly closer, angling my head so I can deepen the kiss.
She moans quietly into my mouth, and all resolve, all strength, and any shred of will power that I have is gone.