by T. S. Joyce
But for now, she was going to spend time with Train Wreck and appreciate the feeling of safety he infused into her. “I have an admission.”
“Admit away.”
“I’m nervous about meeting the herd.”
“Oh, you’ll be just fine. The girls will love you. They’re easy to get along with and fun.”
She snorted. “Okay, I’m just going to go hang out with Hagan’s Lace. No big deal. And Quickdraw Slow Burn. And Dead of Winter. And Two Shots Down. I’m just going to have dinner with the biggest, baddest bucking bull shifters on planet Earth. I’m probably going to trip and fall right in front of them.”
Train Wreck laughed. “If you do, I’ll get a picture of it, don’t worry.”
“Oh yeah? You can post it to your social media account and really mortify me.”
“Have a million people see it. No pressure, but be perfect.”
“I know you’re joking, but I feel pressure.”
He laughed a little louder, and the deep tenor of his laugh settled something that had been so tense today. Frog was sleeping in his lap now.
“Well, I’ll be damned. She’s actually being still in a car ride. It’s a miracle. You really are a cat whisperer.”
“I only bond with ugly cats,” he deadpanned.
Frog lifted her little face and licked his arm and then went back to sleep.
“Maybe she’s confused by that word and thinks you’re complimenting her.”
“All right, Amber. Are you ready for your next test?” he asked as he eased his truck into the parking lot of a gas station. He stopped at the pump and handed her a twenty-dollar bill.
“You want me to pay for the gas?” she asked, confused.
“I’m going to judge you on what kind of road snacks you bring us.”
“That’s not fair. I have no idea what you like!”
“What do you think I like?”
“Slim Jims and chewing tobacco?”
He snickered, and his eyes were lightening to blue again. She liked that she could settle his animal. “You pick out whatever you want. The rule is you have to get as close to spending the entire twenty as you can.”
“Twenty bucks on snacks, okay, I’ve got this. Challenge accepted.”
She got out and jogged into the gas station, thanked a nice man who held the door open for her, and then aimed for the candy aisle. She stood there for a full two minutes, overthinking her selection. When she looked out the big front window, he was standing by his truck, the gas nozzle still hooked up, grinning at her. Oaf.
New plan. She was just going to pick out her favorite things, and if he didn’t like any of them, she would stress-eat it all. She did grab a Slim Jim, though, because she’d never tried one and always wanted to. Two Cherry Cokes later, and she set all of her wares on the counter and paid $19.27.
By the time she moseyed on back to the truck, Train Wreck had unhooked the gas nozzle and was signing something for a little boy. An autograph? Oh my God, he’s signing an autograph! She’d never seen anyone sign an autograph before. She’d never been around anyone famous. The little boy looked so excited, and his dad was cheesing from ear to ear and taking pictures of Train Wreck talking to his boy.
Okay, that was the cutest thing she’d ever witnessed.
The dad waved at her and told her and Train Wreck, “Y’all have a nice day.”
The leather seat squeaked as she settled into it and buckled up. “That was so cool!”
Train Wreck turned on the truck and aimed the heat at her. “That little boy was so damn cute. Did you see his little cowboy hat?”
“So dang cute. So look,” she said as he pulled back onto the main road. “I probably guessed this all wrong, but whatever you don’t eat, I will take one for the team and dispose of it,” she said with a magnanimous bow of her head.
He took a slurp of his cherry coke, then nodded and whispered, “Perfection.” And then he rifled through the bag and grabbed the Slim Jim and a bag of peanut M&Ms. “Just so you know—and I’m not just making this up to win brownie points—these?” He held up the yellow package. “Are my go-to road snack.”
“Really?” she exclaimed.
“Yup, really, really. I have to drive a lot during bucking seasons. When I was a kid on road trips, my dad would always get these. I was in the back seat, not much taller than Frog, listening to my dad sing country songs and watching him eat peanut M&Ms. And you know what he would do if my mom was in the passenger seat?”
“Kiss her?”
He laughed. “Well, that too, but he would share his candy.” Train Wreck pulled to a stop at a red light, ripped the corner of the bag, and poured some onto her hand.
She looked back up at him with the biggest grin. She didn’t know many men who were willing to share their favorite foods. Train Wreck’s smile faded from his face, and his eyes went all soft as they searched hers.
She was about to whisper her thanks, but he reached up and brushed his fingertips against her cheek, then cupped the back of her neck and drew her closer.
And that man kissed her. Only, it wasn’t like any kiss she’d ever had. It was butterflies and fireworks and joy and surprise and the-good-kind-of-nervousness all in one. His lips were soft against hers. It was only unmoving lips pressed against hers for a three-count before he pulled back by inches, but that kiss would’ve buckled her legs if she were standing.
He looked as stunned as she felt.
He pulled her in again and, this time, the fireworks were bigger. He angled his head, and his lips moved against hers in a thirst for affection. And when she slid her arms around his shoulders and leaned over the console, he pushed his tongue past her lips and moaned into her mouth the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.
Her seatbelt was in the way so, in desperation, she unclicked it, and he dragged her over the console like she didn’t have any weight. And there she was, suddenly in his lap, his hand gripping the back of her neck like he never wanted to let go, and she understood. She never wanted to let go either.
Honk!
She startled, and they broke the kiss. Suddenly aware the actual world still existed around them, she jerked her attention to the road and, yep, the light had turned green, and the cars in front of them had all gone through.
Train Wreck laughed as she tuna-fish-wiggled her way back into her seat like the proper lady she was, and her cheeks caught absolute fire as she buckled her seat belt once again. Good grief, she was too flustered to even look up at him right now.
Train Wreck slid his right hand to the inside of her elbow and then ran his fingers down her forearm until he reached her hand. Chills rippled up her skin from how good his touch felt as he intertwined their fingers and held her hand.
Daring a glance up at him, she fell in love with the smile he wore and the confidence in his eyes. Oh, he had no regrets.
“Anytime you want to scoot over onto my lap, you go right on ahead,” he told her. God, his country accent was sexy.
She exhaled an explosive sigh and relaxed back against the seat, squeezed his hand once in a thank you. He’d drawn the embarrassment right from her.
Amber told him, “I like when you tell me about your family.”
“Yeah?”
“It seems like such a normal upbringing. It’s refreshing to just hear about a mom and a dad and them being supportive of a boy.”
“If we leave out the part where they are both shifters, they had to deal with me and my bull during my teenage years, and we chased rodeos so I had to homeschool through junior high and live in an RV as we traveled all over the United States like nomads, then yes. Super normal.”
“Bright side, you probably saw so much of the country that other kids never get the chance to see.”
“Yeah, but I wanted friends.”
“Oh.” Amber drew her knees up and faced him. “I didn’t think about that. It must’ve been hard to make friends when you were on the move all the time.”
“It felt impossible. Sometim
es we would stay at an RV park for a few weeks at a time, and I would get to hang out with the other kids who were camping. They were mostly on vacation or school breaks. But when you move so much, you learn early on not to form attachments so you don’t get hurt when you get separated from them.”
“Why did your family chase rodeos?”
“My dad was a fan from when he was really young. The bull shifter bucking circuit didn’t come around until I was older, so my dad grew up watching the natural born bulls bucking. His job was to help organize the events, and he was also a wrangler. He was the best. Won all these awards.”
“What’s a wrangler do?”
“Protects the riders. You know how I can understand animals? Calm them down? Connect with them?”
She nodded. Oh, she’d seen it firsthand with Frog, who was now crawling on the console and rubbing her face against his arm.
“Well, my dad was ten times better than me at it. No bull rider died on his watch. He could anticipate every move the bull would make after a dismount, and my dad is so fast with his reflexes. They have a whole room full of trophy’s and medals in the basement of their ranch,” he told her. He cast her a quick glance. “You can see it someday if you keep wearing that pink nail polish.”
And now the heat was back in her cheeks, but not from embarrassment. From happiness. She knew what he meant. She could meet his parents someday if she kept liking him.
“My mom would like you,” she murmured. “My grandma, too. They like cowboys.”
“What’s your mom like?”
“Mmmm, now she is different. Confused and angry and has to be on medicine that calms her down most days. She doesn’t remember me sometimes, or recognize my grandma either. But I can tell you how she was.”
“Okay,” he murmured.
“She laughed a lot and was really funny. Independent as hell. If anyone told her to do something, even if it was the right thing to do, she would do the opposite just to train them not to tell her what to do. My dad actually loved that about her. He liked very strong women and always said that was the first thing that attracted him to my mom. And she’s beautiful.”
“I saw that picture in your cabin. With your mom and dad and Sloane when you were a baby.”
“I didn’t even know that picture existed until I moved here. Mom and Dad must’ve brought me to Two Thorns Ranch when I was little. She adored my grandpa when he was alive. And she was the apple of his eye. My grandma told me. She was his princess and, to her, he hung the moon. But he was a mean old cuss to everyone else, his other kids, and my grandma included. She doesn’t miss him much. She moved to Boise a few weeks after he passed away. Just packed her stuff and got a house near my mom. That’s right around the time my mom started getting sick, so it was good to have her help. They’re both the strongest women I know. And my dad was very strong and very tough, too. Very patient and kind, but no one was allowed to cross him. My mom could be her exact self, and he was always right behind her, keeping watch, keeping her safe.”
She frowned at a line of small-town shops that blurred by. “I’m glad I was raised by them. I’m glad my mom decided to marry my dad and had me outside of Two Thorns Ranch. I used to wonder why, but when I’m there?” She rolled her head against the seat to look at Train Wreck. “I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. You know when it’s a beautiful, sunny day, and a big gray cloud covers the sun, and everything gets darker for a few minutes? That darkness makes everyone quieter. It’s like that feeling. That probably doesn’t make any sense…”
“Oh, it makes perfect sense. Instincts are a powerful thing, Amber. If yours are screaming, it’s best to listen to them. You spending your youth away from that ranch is a blessing in disguise. Now you have enough life experience to observe what’s happening and figure out your family’s intentions without getting manipulated. If you had come at age twelve? Thirteen? If you had been raised at the ranch since birth? Where do you think you would be now?”
“I think, over time, they would’ve trained my moral compass to swing south.”
Train Wreck rumbled, “Mmmm hmm,” with a thoughtful nod. “I think you’re right.”
“Hey, Train Wreck?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“You talked about not being able to connect to people, and that sure sounds like a lonely way to be. Have you ever thought of asking to be a part of Quickdraw’s herd? I mean, you seem like you’re friends with them. You do interviews with them on the circuit, and they are always teasing you on camera, but it feels like comradery. It’s a good vibe from what I’ve seen on TV.”
“I hang around with them sometimes. If I admit something, you swear to take my secret to your grave?”
“I swear.” She held up her free hand and extended her pinky. “Pinky swear. You’re safe with me.”
His eyes sparked with intensity when he looked over at her. He let go of her hand and hooked his pinky in hers quick, then intertwined their fingers again. She’d never felt safer than right now with his strong hand around hers.
“I got in the top three last year for a week, and Cheyenne was allowed to represent me until the next event. I did it on purpose. I was middle of the pack for most of the season, but as soon as they announced Cheyenne could manage the top three? I went balls to the wall with training and bucking. She was managing Dead, Two, and Quickdraw. My whole career, I’d looked up to them. That week I was top three? I was on top of the world. I traveled with them to the next event and trained with them in bucking chutes Cheyenne booked at different ranches along the way. I had someone to open my gate, you know?” He swallowed audibly. “I felt like I was part of something. Fuck, I slept in my truck because they all had RVs, but I wanted to hang out with them, joke, eat with them, and let some of that good-vibe positive energy absorb into me, you know? It just felt good to…”
“Belong?”
“Yeah. So I still tag along with them when I can, but I’m not a part of their herd. I haven’t been invited. They’re all paired up and doing their own thing. That’s the dream team, you know? Best bulls in the world. Hagan’s Lace is up there, too. Quickdraw and Annabelle have a baby on the way. They’re doing good. They don’t need a tagalong.”
“And yet they invite you to herd dinners.”
Train Wreck ran his hand down his beard and tried to hide a smile. “I always act like I’m too busy to make it, but I always clear my schedule on Fridays to show up.”
“I think that hesitation to bond to them is left over from how you grew up.”
“What do you mean?”
“You got trained to not connect with anyone because you were always on the move. Thing is, that herd is moving in the same direction as you.” She petted Frog’s head as the half-bald kitty settled into her lap. “Except say it like ‘moooooving in the same direction.’ Cow joke.”
“I guess I never thought of that,” he said low. “I guess I’m still careful about getting attached.”
“Well, at some point, you have to get over your past and accept it, move forward, or stay stuck. It’s up to you. I vote you move forward, though. Some people are good to get attached to. Some people get loyal right back.”
“Like you?”
“Well, I’m about to go digging through finance files on Monday against my own family because I trust you and choose your judgement over theirs. So, yeah, I’m a good one to have in your corner.”
She flexed her nonexistent bicep, and he laughed. “I do think you’re pretty cool to post up immediately like that. You’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met, by far.”
“Chhhh, I know. You’re making out with me at red lights. I got you addicted. It’s okay to admit it.”
“Ha!” he belted out a laugh. “Woman, I would drag you into my lap at every light if I thought you would let me get away with it.”
“Look at that old-timey saloon!” she exclaimed excitedly, pointing out the window.
The Sticker Hatch Saloon had Harleys and pickup tru
cks lined along the street in front of the rustic building.
“A saloon is exciting?” he asked.
“I’ve never been in a real saloon! I’ve just seen them on television. Wow,” she whispered on a breath as they passed. She even waved at some of the bikers who were gathered and chatting on the big porch out front. One of them waved back.
“Aaah!” she yelped as Train Wreck quickly turned them into a parking lot beside it.
Amber steadied herself and sat straight up again. “What are we doing? Are we going in?”
“We have time for a beer. Or whatever frilly drink you’ll probably make me order.”
“Okay, I sense sarcasm. So, no Bloody Mary’s with bacon and celery garnishes. None of those in here.” She shook her head. “That’s not the cool drink.”
He pulled a T-shirt from his duffle bag in the back and pulled it over his sexy torso. Pity. And then he pulled his worn baseball hat back over his hair. “I’ll get you whatever you want.”
“Oh, my God, I hope they sell T-shirts for souvenirs! Should we bring Frog?”
“I think Frog would be happier in the truck,” he said through a chuckle.
“Right. Oh yeah, you’re right. It’s not cool to go into a badass biker saloon with a floral-print cat carrier.” She rolled the window down a crack and made Frog a bed on her seat with a hoodie she’d grabbed from the back.
He waited for her at the tailgate as she shrugged into her flannel. “Am I dressed okay?” she asked, looking down at her black tank top, flannel, and Wrangler skinny jeans. He dragged his eyes down her body, hesitating at her curves, all the way down to her Jordans. He canted his head at her shoes, and she thought for a second he was going to ask why she wasn’t wearing cowgirl boots.
But instead, he said, “The fours? Nice.”
“You know Jordans?” she shrieked.
He hunkered down and his hands flew over his ears. “Good God, woman, how can you cast the pitch of your voice so high?”
“I can sing high, too,” she whispered. “Sorry, I forgot you have cow ears.”
