“I’m grabbing some beer,” Horse announced. “Anyone?”
I nodded, lifting my hips enough to pull out my wallet, which I wore attached to a chain. I pulled out a couple bills and handed them over. Then Horse and Marie started back down the stairs toward the bar, along with Kit, who approached bringing booze to the masses with near religious zeal. That left a sizable gap between us and the rest of the group, which worked just fine for me.
“You know Taz is a player, right?” I told Mel, eyes on the arena where the rodeo queens and princesses rode around in circles, warming up their horses. She blushed, refusing to look at me. Yup, definitely still embarrassed about last night.
“It’s really none of your business . . . but yes, I’m aware,” she whispered. “I’ll admit—I was drunk and stupid out at the Armory, but I’m sober now and normally I’m not a total idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” I said. “I just wanted to warn you.”
“I think I got enough warning last night. I’m only here because Kit dragged me. She’s evil.”
My cock jumped at the memory of that “warning,” and I took a deep breath, reminding myself that jumping a girl in public was probably a parole violation.
“Aren’t you girls supposed to all be in this together?” I asked, pushing through the wave of lust. “And for the record, I think she’s the devil incarnate. Been making my life a living hell for years, little witch.”
Melanie gave a cute giggle, shooting me a shy look from under her eyelashes. “If that’s the case, how did she get you out to the fair?”
I cleared my throat, not wanting to get into details. Damned if I’d admit anything.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, looking back toward the arena. Where the fuck was Horse with the beer, anyway?
“Hey, I’m really sorry about last night,” Mel said, so quietly I nearly missed it.
“What? No, don’t worry about it,” I told her, wishing I hadn’t come down on her so hard. Fuck, and now I was thinking about coming and going down on her. I’d just been so damned horny and she’d been right there, on her knees in the grass like a thousand fantasies I’d beaten off to in the darkness . . . I’d had to do something to make it end, even if it meant hurting her.
“I was really drunk. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.”
Fucking hell, I was a douche.
“You didn’t take advantage of me,” I said. “Let’s just drop it. No harm, no foul.”
“Okay,” she whispered. Awkward silence fell between us again. I wanted to ask her about school, about how things were going with Jess and her living together . . . I also wanted to know if she’d kept dating that dickwad she’d written to me about—the one who wanted to get too serious too fast.
The same one I’d told her I thought she should give a shot, because I’m a fucking masochist.
“Beer,” Horse said, handing me two aluminum bottles of Bud. “Enjoy.”
He dropped down next to me, and I glanced over to see Marie snuggling into his side. Christ, but they were cute together. Made me want to vomit. I twisted off a cap and handed the bottle over to Mel. She looked at me, surprised.
“I was super drunk last night,” she reminded me. “I thought you were pissed about that.”
Oh, I’d been pissed, all right. Mostly pissed about Taz touching what belonged to me, except she didn’t belong to me and she never would. I opened my own drink and sucked it down.
“Suit yourself,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t care either way.”
Her face closed up and she looked away. Stop being such a dick, dumbass. I reached over, catching her hand. I’d meant to give her a reassuring little squeeze or some stupid shit. Somehow the touch of her skin short-circuited my brain, though. She felt warm and soft. I wanted to crawl inside her, and not in the way you think, you fucking pervert.
Okay, so maybe I wanted to do that, too.
“I’m sorry,” I told her, the words soft. “I don’t give a shit either way if you drink the beer, Mel, that’s all I meant. I’m a jackass, but I’m not actively trying to make tonight bad for you.”
She gave me a faint, almost trembling smile as her fingers wrapped around mine, giving a little squeeze, which I swear I felt all the way to my cock.
The loudspeakers crackled to life.
“Please stand for Coeur d’Alene’s own Josina Bradley, who will be singing the national anthem,” the announcer said as riders started pouring into the arena at full gallop, American flags streaming from staffs braced against their stirrups. All around us cowboy hats came off as the troupe of girls on horses—young rodeo queens and princesses—came to a halt in a long line in the center, pinwheeling toward the audience with as much precision as the club did when we rode in a pack.
The music started, and I held Melanie’s hand—friends hold hands, right?—through the whole song, and then through the Canadian national anthem that followed. All around us people were cheering but we stayed quiet. I suppose I could tell you all about how hard it was not to pop a boner in front of everyone or all the different ways I was imagining fucking her. Right here, right now. Under the bleachers. In the bathroom.
In the sheriff’s tent . . . Nice.
It was all true, of course. But that’s not what stands out to me the most. More than anything, I remember standing next to her, holding her hand. Smelling her and knowing that she was safe and perfect and beautiful.