Page 15 of Up in Smoke (The Bunkhouse #3)

Sometimes not even at my own hands.

It sucks, but I hear it’s actually common. I’m used to it now, and if sex is never going to knock my socks off like it does for most girls, then so be it.

“It’s not a big deal, girls. I have a lot of other things going on, and sex isn’t really a priority right now. I’m just ovulating or something. It’ll pass.”

Savannah bends to pick up her purse with a laugh. “Honestly? That’s actually a valid explanation.”

“And anyway,” I continue with a sigh while dropping my feet to the ground from the back of the seat in front of me, “this discussion is pointless because I can’t even have orgasms. Trust me. I’ve tried.”

I sense him before his hands land on the back of my seat, practically caging me in. His body blocks the sun at his back and covers me in his shadow. I look down at his grip on the back of my chair on either side of my shoulders.

When my face finally tips up, there’s a gold chain hanging above me, and he’s looking down at me with one cocked eyebrow. I offer a tight, innocent smile.

Pretend you didn’t hear that , I silently beg.

Blythe rises to her feet and gathers her things while Tripp and I hold our staring contest. Savannah grabs her hand and shuffles to get around me.

“We’re going to the bathroom before we leave,” Blythe calls over her shoulder.

I want to look away. It’s awkward not to. But I can’t.

His hazel eyes hold me hostage as he periodically chews the gum in his mouth. He bends further so that his lowered voice doesn’t carry to anyone’s ears but mine.

“I can help with that, you know?”

I swallow hard. Tripp waits for a response while my hands twist in my lap. I could purse my lips and deny that I have any clue what he’s referring to, but I don’t think he’d buy it.

“I was kidding about that,” I say, barely lifting my shaky voice above a whisper.

“Oh.” He flattens the gum over his tongue and sucks enough air through his lips to pop a tiny bubble in his mouth, making me press my knees together. “That’s a shame. Fuck buddies has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

My mouth drops open. Fuck buddies . Who even says that anymore? Good lord. Does he always say exactly what’s on his mind with no filter like that?

“Ye—” I shake my head and close my eyes. “I mean—not really.”

“Disagree.”

Always so confident. It’s a chore just reasoning with someone so bold and sure.

“That’s a rich proposal coming from someone who just asked me to be friends with him this morning .”

“Why? Friends have needs and bang each other all the time.”

My eyes flick to him again before defending my weak stance. “Shouldn’t an arrangement like this be mutually beneficial? Getting me there would be a tall order for you.”

His smile grows. “I could do it.”

“Cocky, much?”

He chuckles, and my entire body reacts. “How about you let me prove it and then you can decide for yourself if I’m cocky or not.”

“Hard . . . pass?” I meant to sound as self-assured as he does, but the words came out shakier than I intended, almost like a question.

“Alright,” he says with a nod. Much-needed oxygen finally returns to my lungs when he backs up and stands. “It’s your call. Open offer, though.”

“Do you proposition all of your friends with”—I soften my voice to a whisper after standing from my seat—“sexual favors?”

“Only the ones I want to see naked.”

A throat clears behind him, and I lean to peek around his tall frame. Impeccable timing.

“Hey, Mesa Kate!” Mom stands at the bottom of the press box stairs with a smile and open arms. “I was waiting for you to come heckle me up there.”

I skip toward her and step into her embrace. She squeezes me with familiar warmth, and I smile over her shoulder.

“Sorry, we were watching the game together,” I explain.

She pulls back and flits her gaze between Tripp and me. “We?”

“Blythe and Savannah tagged along. I think they went to the bathroom.” I clear my throat. “And this is my friend, Tripp.”

He removes his hat and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Riley. I mean—Ms. Riley. Sorry, I’m used to them just calling you by your last name on the radio.”

Tripp chuckles while the corner of Mom’s eyes crinkle with a genuine smile. He listens to her on the radio? I blink away the urge to question him about it. They shake hands, and I bend to grab my things.

By the time I walk to the end of my row and circle around to join them behind the reserved seating area, Tripp is standing behind her and peering over her shoulder to look down at her phone.

“Yep,” Tripp says with a proud smile. “That’s the one.”

Mom turns her phone to show me the screen displaying a picture of her wearing the same old jersey that Tripp is currently sporting. “Twins!”

“What are the odds?” I say, smiling up at Tripp. “Guess I need to scour the internet for one of my own now.”

“I’ll keep my eye out,” Mom promises. “So, how is it that you two met?”

I remain quiet to give Tripp a chance to answer if he wants to, but he doesn’t jump in.

“Through mutual friends,” I explain. “Remember Savannah? She stayed at my cottage while I finished teaching last year. Tripp works at the same ranch that her boyfriend did before he started his own business.”

“Interesting,” Mom replies with a nod. “Cowboy, huh? All the ones I’ve met were shitheads.”

“ Mom .”

Tripp chuckles. “I’m told shitheads are acceptable as long as they aren’t assholes.”

“You’re on the right track.” Mom claps twice as she laughs and then turns to me. “I’ll give him a pass. Stay the night next time, okay? We miss you.”

I step toward her for another hug before she goes back for her things in the press box. “My bag will be packed the next time I visit. I’ll call you when we make it home.”

Tripp pulls his phone out of his back pocket and swipes a hand under the brim of his hat. “I'd better take this. Meet at the car?”

I smile. “Sure.”

He answers the call, puts the phone to his ear, and walks toward the parking lot. I try not to watch the way his jeans sit on his hips just right. My head tilts as I think about his assertive words.

I can help with that.

Could he? Maybe. But I’m not sure finding out would be worth the risk. Knowing me, I’d be chasing validation from him a week from now, on my knees and hanging on his every word in hopes that he’d been madly in love with me since the moment we met.

He doesn’t need that, and I want so badly to move on from that annoying habit of mine.

Savannah and Blythe have been in the bathroom for what seems like forever. Before I have a chance to shake my thoughts and go in search of them, I feel a tiny tap on my arm. I look down to see a boy with light blonde hair, a sunburned nose, and two missing front teeth peering up at me.

“Miss? Do you know that guy?” he asks with a finger pointed toward the parking lot.

My gaze turns to Tripp. “Him?”

“Yeah! My friends and I were just wondering—” He looks down for a moment, then stands up straight to look at me again. “Can you ask him to come to another game sometime so he can teach us more stuff? Please ?”

“Yes, I can ask him for you.”

“You’re the best!” He beams, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m going to work on my throw. Can you tell him that, too?”

I smile softly and grip the keys in my hand. “Absolutely.”