Page 27 of The Rogue (Four Corners Ranch #11)

This wasn’t the first time Rue had woken up disoriented in the bedroom at Justice’s house. But she felt remarkably worse this

time than she had the first time. She was... she was hungover. She’d never been hungover in her life. Actually, until last

night she’d never been drunk before.

Last night...

Pieces of it started to come back to her. Just little bits. She had gone out with Justice. And... that man had asked her

to dance. And then... there had been a fistfight? She sat up. But that was a mistake, because she was dizzy.

But yes. She was remembering it right. There had been a full-on fistfight over her.

She stood slowly, trying to find her balance, and feeling the ground sway beneath her.

But then Justice had taken her out of the bar. She had been so furious at him and then...

She clapped her hand over her mouth. No. Absolutely not. There was no way that she had...

She had asked Justice to have sex with her.

And he had turned her down.

Oh no.

She stumbled into the bathroom and turned the light on.

No. She had not seriously propositioned her best friend and said.

.. said that he didn’t care about sex, so he should have it with her.

Because it didn’t mean anything to him. That was.

.. It was a horrible thing to say. It was horrible and mean, and she was humiliated.

Because not only had she thrown herself at him, but then she had been mean. And she had...

She threw up on his boots. She had thrown up on his boots.

Right after he had...

She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t quite remember what had happened right before she threw up on his boots. She stripped

her clothes off and turned the shower on, and did not wait for it to warm up before she got in. Then she howled in indignity

as the icy water sluiced over her skin. A polar plunge of shame. One that at least jolted her a little bit out of her groggy

state.

First I’d touch you...

No.

Then I’d lick you until you were begging me to stop.

No, no. No.

Only then would I give you what you really wanted.

He had said all that to her. In that low, husky voice.

She stood there as the water began to warm up, stood there and let it sluice over her body. Until she felt herself beginning

to unravel.

Lick her until she begged him to stop...

She had propositioned Justice. And she had pushed him. She had pushed him to the limit and then he had said that and she had...

She had thrown up all over his boots.

She put her head in her hands and let the water roll over her. What the hell had she done?

What the hell?

How could she have done that to him? And to her?

The bigger question is, do you really want him?

Well. He was the most beautiful man she knew. There really was no competition. He was gorgeous, and he was sexy. And...

she had gone out last night to let go of that, but instead it had thrown her closer to it. Whether or not he would admit it,

he was acting jealous. That behavior that he’d exhibited at the bar was more like a possessive lover than a friend. Either

that or he really did think that she was emotionally ten years old and needed to be protected from herself at all costs. She

was a grown woman. She had a feeling that if it had been one of his brothers out there making a bad decision, he would’ve

let them go off. So did that mean that he wanted her too?

It doesn’t mean anything to you...

That had been a really shitty thing to say. She didn’t know whether she was more embarrassed by propositioning him, or guilty

over having said that. It was very hard to say.

Add in that monologue of his, which was the dirtiest thing anyone had ever said to her—and had come right out of her best

friend’s mouth—and she didn’t know what the hell to do with it. Didn’t know what the hell to make of it.

“You have to fix it,” she said out loud, her words reverberating off the shower walls.

Yes. She did have to fix it.

But she had to figure out what the biggest offense was first. And she really wasn’t sure.

She dried herself, and then brushed her teeth twice, before making her way back out to choose some clothes. She opted for

something that covered her head to toe. A black sweatshirt that didn’t show off any of her body and a pair of matching sweatpants.

Maybe he would pity her. Because she looked soft and vulnerable, and like a sphere. A sad little sphere.

She swallowed hard. There was no use putting it off; he was her best friend. She needed to find him and talk to him and try

to smooth it over. It was just right now she wasn’t sure what direction she needed to smooth it. Or what way would make it...

She opened up the door and padded slowly out toward the kitchen.

And there he was, up and out there making her breakfast. Bacon. And very strong coffee.

“I figured you’d be hungover,” he said.

She wanted to cry. Because of course he would know that. Because he’d had his share of hangovers and she hadn’t. Because what

he’d said about guiding her suddenly seemed a lot more relevant, and made her feel a lot more like a jerk than she even had

a few minutes ago.

Because she had been so determined to be insulted by his behavior, and not to be realistic about the fact this was new to her, and she was acting out.

From a place of vulnerability and rage and hurt feelings.

He was in full control of his faculties when he went out, and suddenly that part of the argument last night made sense.

He went out; he got drunk on purpose. He met up with other people who were out there drunk on purpose.

Who knew what they were doing. Had decided what they wanted beforehand.

While she had just been windmilling her way through the bar, through the night, acting out of character because she felt so hard done by.

“I owe you an apology,” she said.

“Oh. You do remember last night.”

He cleared his throat and turned back to the pan of bacon. Dished several strips onto a plate, along with a pile of scrambled

eggs. “Why don’t you get some grease in you first? Then we can address that.”

She walked over to him and took the plate, careful not to let their fingers touch. “I can talk while I eat,” she said. She

turned and went to the small table in the nook in his kitchen. “I acted like a brat. And I’m sorry.”

“That is a good start,” he said.

“I was rude, and I was insulting.

“You were both of those things. You also never are those things, so it’s pretty fair.”

“Yeah. Except it isn’t. And I really am sorry. I really am... I am.”

“All right. Good to know.”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” she said. She knew she didn’t really have a right to say that to him. A right to ask it of him.

“Why would I be angry at you?” he said.

“Because I was... really insensitive,” she said.

“So what? I’m fine.”

“You... You’re fine.”

“Did you think that I was stewing over the fact that drunk Rue said something about me being a relentless man-whore? We all

know that it’s true. Why should I be mad about that?”

“It just wasn’t the right thing to say,” she said.

“Sure. But you were drunk. I knew you didn’t mean what you were saying. That’s why I sent you to bed.”

“Can we just forget about it?”

“Hell yeah. Let’s forget it. I’m not mad, and I’m not thinking about it anymore.”

“Good.”

She was honestly so relieved. Because she had been out of her mind last night, and if she had ruined her relationship with

Justice over a moment of total and complete out-of-character insanity, it would’ve been the worst thing she could think of.

“I think I’m going to watch TV and knit today,” she said. “A little break from my adventure.”

“Great,” he said, sounding relieved. “Dinner tonight, at the main house. Now you’ve seen just about everybody, so you might

as well.”

“That is true.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry. Your hangover will have faded by then, and I’m certainly not going to tell anybody.”

“And you’re not mad.”

“Of course I’m not.”

He was fucking livid. He deserved some kind of award for pretending that he had been completely fine with everything that morning.

He had decided when he’d woken up, unreasonably early, and outrageously irritated, that it would do him no good to hold Rue accountable for what had happened last night.

In truth, he was madder at himself. For letting his own temper off leash.

For getting to the point where he was..

. saying those things to her, and putting those thoughts in his mind.

And it was all still turning around in his head when he got to his brother’s place that night for dinner.

It was freezing, and still, Denver was grilling in the back of the house, his barbecue facing the broad, impressive mountains

that flanked Four Corners.

He was drinking a cold beer, and Justice decided to join him.

“We can basically call the big barn done,” Justice said.

That at least was a decent distraction. They had put in a lot of good work today getting the place in order. He understood

why Denver wanted to do it. Why Denver had gone out and made money, and invested that money back into the place. It was important

to him to do something with the King family name. Justice wasn’t entirely sure he felt the same. But he worked the ranch.

In fact, he did that like he did everything else. It was in front of him, so he did it. But he wasn’t sure he really thought

the family name could be saved. Possibly because he knew just how dark it was.

“Yeah. Pretty proud. You know, there are things that we’ll never be able to make up for. There are...” Denver’s eyes looked haunted. “There was just a lot of shit that Dad did. It’s why I took Penny in. It’s why...”

“Yeah, I know. It’s why you do a lot of things.”

“Sometimes I think the only way to avoid paying for the sins of your father in perpetuity is to try and atone for them. Other

times I think maybe there’s just nothing that can be done. I’m not sure if it’s even really Dad’s sins I’m trying to atone