Page 14 of Saving the Rain (Crimson Ridge #4)

T essa goddamn Diaz talked me into coming tonight. She kept on at me until I caved and agreed to put in an appearance.

In my head, there’s an unending list of things I’m well aware will need to get done in the morning, so I’m here for one drink max.

No rolling out of bed foggy-headed and thick-skulled—no nursing the lingering thud of a hangover and cottonmouth.

Those options are off the table where managing a ranch is concerned.

Before even walking in the door tonight I felt on edge.

Not that I’ve been able to put my finger on why exactly, but there isn’t any point dwelling on it.

Coming here tonight could at least be a useful distraction.

Another small town bar in cowboy country.

Just like countless others I’ve lost track of wasting nights in.

After spending enough time chatting with Tessa to keep her out of my hair about having a life , or some shit, I can see she’s starting to fade.

Fatigue draws her expression tight, energy flatlining as her social battery runs out.

It’s the look of someone who would much rather be at home curled up in bed.

So I excuse myself and choose to escape outside.

No way am I gonna risk getting stuck at that table with Kayce and all his buddies when she inevitably turns to Oscar any second now, giving him the word, and they bail for the night.

Which is how I’ve wound up with this spitfire of a redhead eyeing me over the top of her vodka mixer. She’s funny enough and doesn’t seem all that fussed with knowing much about me beyond the basics. As in my name, and I’m not even sure she cares too much about that, either.

“I’m only here for two more days.” She lifts an eyebrow, while fiddling with the chain around her neck.

“Is that so, red?” I take a sip of my beer. I’m still nursing the one drink tonight, which is probably why I’m even less interested in hanging around. In years gone by, I might’ve done so if I had a bit more liquor on board, but truly can’t be fucked with that sort of carry on anymore.

She scoffs at me on hearing the nickname that I’m sure has been tossed her way thousands of times, in thousands of different variations.

Who cares? I’m not really into this, but I suppose it could just be a meaningless hookup.

That chance to blow off some steam I’d been planning on, or at least considering.

“What do you cowboys do for fun around here when you’re not hanging out at a bar?

” Her tongue swipes a line across the swell of her bottom lip.

At least she doesn’t appear rolling drunk like some of her friends seem to be on the other side of the garden.

They keep letting out loud, high-pitched squeals of laughter, and one of the girls she’s here with has almost slipped straight off her stool about three times.

“You wanna know?” I chuckle, and watch as her eyes flare in the glow of the hanging lights overhead.

She’s pretty, and self-assured. Certainly comfortable in her own skin from what I can tell the longer we chat.

I’m guessing this girl would quite like the full Crimson Ridge cowboy experience, which is why I imagine she walked straight over to me and boldly struck up a conversation in the first place.

She says something in reply, but I don’t catch it.

Just at the same second, I lift my eyes, only to witness the golden boy himself walking outside.

Fuck, the whole reason I came out here was to avoid his ass.

He looks around, but fortunately not over this way, before cutting a path directly toward the fire.

The girl in front of me keeps on talking—something about her friend’s birthday being the reason she’s here in town—but my focus continues to be drawn to him in a way that grates like I can’t fucking explain.

Just knowing he’s there has a muscle pulsing in the side of my jaw.

Kayce sits down and is straight onto his phone; of course he is.

Scrolling and texting, fully focused on the screen in his hands before a young buck pretty much climbs onto his lap in an effort to catch his eye.

Jesus. It’s painful watching this idiot virtually start humping his leg from the outset.

“...I mean, if I’m reading the signs right, and you’re interested in getting out of here, or something?” The girl’s sleeve brushes over mine when she reaches up to drag her long hair over one shoulder, twirling the strands.

That pulls my attention back down to her heavily lined lashes. She blinks at me expectantly, a cheeky sparkle to her brazenness.

My grip tightens around the nearly empty bottle.

It would take all of two seconds for me to swallow the last mouthful, and agree to scratch that itch she’s got a hankering to satisfy.

Drape an arm around her shoulder, whisper something dirty in her ear, make a hasty exit to my truck—the role of the perfect playboy cowpoke.

A version of events that have played out almost to this exact script far too many times to count.

Too many meaningless goddamn hookups over the years.

Yet, the sight of Kayce standing up draws my line of sight away from her again for the briefest second.

I see him toss some wood on the fire, then straighten just as the asshole beside him cups his hands.

There’s a distinctive spark, followed by the flicker of a flame as it illuminates the lower half of his face.

My brows knit together, and teeth grind. What a fucking moron.

I’m moving within a beat, discarding my beer bottle onto an empty table, closing the space with determined strides.

I don’t even care that I bloody well almost shoulder charge Kayce out of the way.

He’s such a goddamn idiot for standing there doing nothing and saying nothing.

I yank the freshly lit cigarette straight out of the prick’s mouth and grind it under my heel with a snarl.

This skinny little runt, a fucking wannabe buckaroo with pimples on his forehead, frowns at me. Mouth gaping wide, he stares at the ground, then back up to meet my scowl. “What the hell, man?”

Balling my fists in an effort not to shove this twiggy-looking motherfucker out of the way, my grunt comes out gritty and forceful. “He’s got asthma, you shit for brains.”

He coughs out a wry laugh that brings remnants of smoke gusting from his nose. “Like I would know that? Who are you, his dad?”

Christ. This isn’t the place to get my ass arrested for breaking his jaw. But I’m sure as hell tempted to send him packing with a bloodied nose and a pair of black eyes.

Shoving my hands in the front pockets of my jeans to keep them safely tucked away—to not reach out with the intent of fisting the front of his preppy starched shirt so I can headbutt him—I lean closer, keeping my voice measured.

“You want me to kick your ass in front of all your snot-face friends, huh?” My lip curls.

His eyebrows shoot up, glance darting over to Kayce, then back again. Raising both palms, he shakes his head while stepping back. “Dude. Chill out. Psycho .” As the guy walks off, a quiet mutter drifts back.

Kayce’s death glare bores into my skull. “What the fuck is your problem?” he snaps.

“Clearly, you are.” Turning his way, as I take in the sight of him up close, my jaw pulses.

A dusting of stubble lines his chin, but he’s still the same fresh-faced golden boy.

Standing there in his hoodie, jacket, and jeans, the kid looks like he’s walked straight off a fucking photo shoot.

It’s annoying as hell because he’s all flushed lips, razor-sharp cheekbones, and a slight curl to his hair. Acting all innocent.

As if he doesn’t have a clue that he’s gonna have jerks like that panting after him wherever he goes.

Pretending like he doesn’t give a shit that he’s got all the charisma, the looks, and the talent. He couldn’t give a fuck about any of it. Spent his life flushing it all down the toilet when he had everything handed to him.

“You think you know me or something? Think you know anything about my life?” he snarls, dangling a quiet threat between us. Those big blue eyes of his jump around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear.

I look him up and down, my top lip curling in disdain.

“You can say thank you anytime. I know you can’t even take care of yourself.

.. clearly... if that’s the kind of limp dicks you’re hanging around with.

Letting them blow smoke straight in your face, Christ, you’re more of an idiot than I thought. ”

He threads his fingers into his blond locks, tugging on the roots. “God. You’re unbelievable. Imagining you’re rushing in to save the day, or what?”

A cold laugh escapes me. “Save your dumb ass? No. Didn’t do that for you, snowflake.

” I scoff. This kid has always thought everything should revolve around him.

Always wanting me to give him attention and to treat him like he was something, or someone, important to my life.

When he and his mom were anything but. A giant fucking pain in my neck was all they were. A constant headache I didn’t need.

They have no idea what trouble they caused by showing up and sticking around.

Kayce folds his arms, a muscle in the side of his jaw flexing.

“Sure seemed like you were ready to sprint over here real quick.” His stupidly blue eyes glint a more vivid turquoise color with the soft glow of lights strung out above us.

“Looks like your date wasn’t prepared to stick around after a performance like that. ”

Tipping my head to one side, that old familiar sense of being constantly infuriated with him—for no real reason other than him existing —has boiled up.

“Like I said, I didn’t do that for you. I did that for me, so I don’t have to haul your ass to a medical center at this time of night.

” I step closer. “All because you’re too much of a loser to make good decisions.

” With a click of my tongue, I take in the way his eyes narrow in response, his chest rising and falling faster now.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself. I wouldn’t ask for your help if you were the last person on earth.” He spits the words out.

“You can’t even make a good choice while sober. Doubt anything’s changed. Like you’d know how to get through a single day without relying on everyone else to pick up the pieces for you.”

His face hardens. “Screw you. Prick.”

Tension hangs thick in the air between the two of us, with the fire cracking and popping to fill the momentary silence.

“Take your sorry ass home, Wilder.” I back up, shaking my head at him as I prepare to walk away. “Unless your goal is to come last the next time you compete, then by all means, hang out here choking on a lungful of smoke. I bet Chaos will be laughing all the way to that next winner’s podium.”

I can’t be fucked with this guy, or this conversation any longer. He’s just gonna throw everything away all over again, and I certainly won’t give a shit if he ruins his life.

Turning away from his stupid, pouty expression and feeble excuses, I see the group of drunk girls still occupying the same corner as before.

The redhead glances up at me from where she’s now surrounded by her friends.

I don’t pause, striding back over there, and as I get closer, her eyes flicker up and down my frame appreciatively.

“Hey, you.” She twists her lips and swings around to lean over the back of her chair when I reach the group.

There’s a chorus of feminine giggles and a couple of hiccups from one particular friend—presumably the birthday girl, judging by the glazed look in her eyes and the fact she’s swaying to her own beat.

“So, I heard a rumor you’re the cowboy to ask for a private tour at Sunset Skies Ranch?” She leans on one palm, staring up at me with a look that says she’s more than ready to leave, all I gotta do is give the word.

“Might be.” I cock my head to one side.

“I bet you know all the best places to explore after dark.”

Leaning down, I bend low enough for my mouth to graze the shell of her ear. “Let me buy you a drink and steal you away from your friends for a little bit first, hmm ?” I whisper.

A little shiver roams through her frame, and she dips her chin while making a noise of agreement.

Lingering there for an extra second, my gaze drifts back to the spot where I was just a moment ago. Immediately, my eyes lock with Kayce’s. He glances up from typing on his phone, and I see his focus bounce from me, to the girl with flame-color hair as she hops up from her seat.

Fuck it. Drawing a scowl out of him shouldn’t feel this satisfying, but it does. When I walk into the bar with my palm guiding her by the small of her back, the whole way, I feel it.

Those wide eyes of his drill into the back of my head .

Turning to look over my shoulder, I give him a wink. And to my black-hearted satisfaction, the golden boy who oozes charm has been thoroughly ruffled.

I’m met with a thundercloud glare, rather than bright blues in return.