Page 31
He shakes his head like he knows I'm full of shit. "Chace, let's not bullshit each other, okay? I see things. I hear things. I know you sold your Nana's house six months ago when you put her in that care facility, and I know you've been sleeping in your truck behind the Rusty Spur when you can't find a woman's bed to warm. Your so-called friends might be ignorant, but I'm not."
I'm about to jump out of my seat and deck him when he holds both hands up. "I'm just saying, Chace. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. I need someone to not only ride my stock, but to transport them in and out of the area: one ride a week, and one transport. One of my guys will meet you somewhere for the handoff. I can't have folks on my payroll being seen, or caught, in those arenas."
I sit with that for a minute, contemplating whether it's worth it before I ask, "And what's in it for me? Sounds like you're asking for a favor. What do I get out of the deal?"
He smiles like he knows he's already got me. "I pay your entry fees. They're a few grand each. You take home the pot, and I get fifty percent of your winnings in return. The better you do, the more we both make."
"Fifty percent? That's a raw fucking deal, and you know it. I'm doing you a favor, taking all the risk, and you walk away with the profit?"
"It's business, Chace. That's just how it is. You either want the money, or you don't. I can always find another down-on-his-luck cowboy. They're a dime a dozen." He stands and hands me his card. "My cell's on the back. Text me by tomorrow night and let me know." Then he walks away without another word.
I stare at the card for a long time before deciding I've had enough of the rodeo for tonight, so I head back to camp to check on Addie.
She’s already been fishing for information about where I disappear to at night. How the hell am I supposed to ride, sneak bulls in and out of random towns along the rodeo circuit, help her, and keep my extracurriculars a secret? Addie would kill me if she found out, but it'd be an even bigger betrayal of Eli.
If I hate Cole Maddox, Eli hates him even more. I don't personally have a beef with the guy. He's never done anything to me, but he’s put people I love in difficult situations, and that's reason enough to hate him.
Eli would lose his ever-loving mind if he knew I've spent the last week dreaming about crawling into his sister's bed, and now I’m seriously considering climbing into bed with his enemy too. Some best friend I am.
As I approach camp, the first thing I notice is that it's completely dark. No fire, just a battery-operated lantern sitting on the table. The one Addie normally carries back to her camper at night.
Once I reach it, I find that it's holding down a note.
Chace,
Going out with Shea for a few beers. Don’t wait up.
-Addie
I crumple the note in my fist.
She's upset, and now she's headed to a bar on rodeo night. Shae's with her, thank God, but that doesn't really make me feel any better. Rodeo crowds and broken hearts don't exactly make for the best decisions.
I don't even think about it before I turn on my heel, climb into my truck, and fire it to life. Gravel spits from beneath the tires as I back out of camp and point myself towards the closest bar. Every rodeo has one. It’s the place contestants, pickup men, and half the crowd end up once the night's over. If Addie's there, I'm there too.
Chapter eleven
Chace
When I step into Buckle & Bronc fifteen minutes later, the place is already packed, and it's only getting busier. The rodeo just let out, and damn near everyone seems to have landed here.
It's a far cry from The Rusty Spur back in Ashford Ridge. That place's a hometown watering hole where everybody knows everybody. Buckle & Bronc feels more like a country nightclub than a bar. Music pounds through the room, neon light washes everything in shades of red and orange, and any conversation has to compete with the music blaring over the speakers.
A sunken dance floor anchors the middle of the room, already shoulder to shoulder with people dancing beneath the lights. Tables and booths wrap around it, then give way to a long bar that stretches nearly the length of one wall. Staircases on either side lead upstairs to a second bar and a handful of pool tables. I've spent more than a few nights up there taking riders' beer money between events.
Guess I've been in Ashford too long, because I've forgotten how big these rodeo bars can get. I hope to hell this is where they landed. It’s the closest one to the arena, and just the kind of place two single girls might go to let off some steam.
It's that thought that carries me farther into the crowd, scanning the room for Addie.
I spot her almost immediately and stop dead in my tracks.
Fuuuck.
She's wearing a white lace top that's damn near see-through in the low bar lights. It wraps across her waist, and dips just low enough at the top to send my imagination somewhere it has absolutely no business going. Her cutoffs are criminally short. As she leans toward Shae to whisper something, I catch the smooth curve of her ass as it vanishes into the bottom of the material. My eyes linger a second too long before drifting down her long, tanned legs that disappear into a pair of cowgirl boots.
She's laughing at something Shae said, her head tipped back in carefree laughter, completely oblivious to the fact that every guy within twenty feet has his eyes on her. Including the dark-haired biker leaning against the table beside her. His gaze drifts from her face to her legs with zero shame, and something ugly twists in my chest.
Ryder fucking Cross. Of course he's here.
