Page 21 of Saving the Rain
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 abouthaving 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 eyeingme 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 fullCrimson Ridge cowboyexperience, 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 fuckingexplain. 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-lookingmotherfucker 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 thefuckis 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 knowanythingabout 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?”