Page 40 of Wild & Worthy

I stand there a second longer than I mean to, watching him laugh and talk with his hands. It hits me then—I haven't really met anybody here. I've been too busy thinking about Dusty, the standings, and the next rodeo to notice much else. Chace notices everyone. Give him a campfire full of strangers, and by sunset he's got them laughing like they've known each other for years.

I watch him for a bit too long, the firelight catching under the brim of his hat, that easy laugh breaking loose, and a smile I don't think I've actually seen before, or haven't noticed as genuine until now.

I head back to my camper and grab my camera off the hook and step back out into the campsite. My lens finds Chace without my permission. He's still at the fire, laughing, the firelight catching the edge of his jaw while his hands move through another story. I press the shutter almost on instinct, then glance down at the screen, already knowing I caught him at exactly the right moment. His head is tipped back, his smile easy and unguarded, completely unaware anyone is watching him at all.

A smile tugs at my own mouth before I can stop it. He signed me up for a jackpot before I even woke up this morning. Went and found the form himself, worked out the timing, all without saying a word until it was already done. I thought nobody paid that kind of attention to my season but me. Apparently, that's no longer true.

I shake my head at myself and keep walking. There's still enough daylight left to find a few more shots before we hit the road tomorrow, and I'd rather spend it looking at literally anything else right now.

Chapter fourteen

Chace

We’re about two hours out from Cheyenne, and I spent the first two hours of this trip trying to keep my eyes on the road instead of the woman next to me. She's got her bare feet propped on my dash, just to get under my skin. I told her when we left the jackpot not to put her feet up there. She stared me dead in the eye and did it anyway.

At some point, she'd slipped off her socks and boots. Now her feet are crossed at the ankles, dark red polish catching my eye every time I glance her way. Her tanned legs stretch out across the cab, glowing in the afternoon sun. I hate how much I like the sight of it.

"You're doing it again," she says, eyes closed.

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me."

"I'm just checking my mirror." She knows I'm full of shit, and I'm not sure if that makes this easier or a hell of a lot harder.

This stupid game we’ve been playing with each other has gotten worse by the day. I'll find an excuse to brush past her, close enough to feel the shiver that runs through her. She'll shoot me a glare, then get even five minutes later by bending down to grab something she could've picked up any other way, leaving me with a view she knows damn well is distracting.

Neither of us says a word about it; we just keep score. It's a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and every time we push the line a little farther. But I won't be the one who crosses it, because there's too much at risk.

"Mmhhm." She sinks farther into the seat, a smug little smile playing across her lips. She caught me looking, and judging by the look on her face, she's counting it as a win. I force my attention back to the road.

The jackpot was a good warm-up. A little confidence builder before Cheyenne. A small payout, and a small crowd. Something to get her back in the saddle after Sheridan and remember who the hell she is. Mission accomplished.

I watched her from the rail, and somewhere around the second barrel I stopped worrying about her run and started feeling sorry for everybody else. Dusty was locked in, and Addie was finally riding like herself again.

She took first place, and twelve hundred bucks with it. She swung out of the saddle wearing the biggest damn smile I'd seen on her all week, Dusty bumping his nose against her shoulder while she laughed. I couldn't decide if I was relieved... or more screwed. She looked so damn beautiful in that moment it took everything I had not to wrap my arms around her.

The plan was to camp there. Sleep it off, then roll into Cheyenne fresh in the morning. That was the plan, right up until she came jogging over with the winner's check still clutched in her hand, talking a mile a minute. She was bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Let's just drive," she said. "I'm too wired to sit still. Please, Chace."

Please, Chace.

At that moment, she could've asked me to drive straight to Mexico, and I'd have happily jumped behind the wheel.

So we blew out of there, high off her win. Windows down, sun shining, four hours of open highway ahead of us, and I plugged in the playlist I'd threatened her with back home. The road-trip playlist. Nineties country, and a couple of power ballads I'll deny having on my phone. I had a whole speech ready for when she reached over to change it. But she knew every word. Every song. Every single one.

She held out for about half a verse, pretending she was above it. Then somewhere in the middle of a Shania Twain chorus she just... gave in. She went full throttle. Fist wrapped around an imaginary microphone. Head tipped back against the seat, missing the high note by a country mile and not caring one bit. I laughed so hard I almost missed a turn.

The next hour slipped by in the same easy rhythm—singing, arguing over lyrics, windows down. Her laugh filled the cab often enough that I caught myself smiling every time it did.

Whatever this thing is between us, it isn't harmless anymore. It's been building more and more since the night I pinned her against that wall outside the bar and told her she'd beg me. Maybe long before that, if I'm honest. Neither of us will name it. We just keep seeing how close we can get without crossing the line. It’s like I’m holding a lit match over dry grass, promising myself I won't let it fall. Because the second I do, I’ll ruin my friendship with Eli, the only family I've got left. He trusted me with her. That's the part I can't shake. He never had to spell it out. I already knew.

Instead, I've spent the last couple of hours memorizing the shape of her calves. Every curve from her thigh to her ankle, wondering what it would be like to kiss my way down to her bare feet.

I know exactly what kind of friend that makes me. But for the life of me, I can't stop looking at those pretty red toes on my dash. That's the part that scares the shit out of me. I started this game, and I'm not sure I'm strong enough to end it before I burn everything down.

A deafening bang explodes beneath us. The steering wheel jerks in my hands. "Shit." I grip the wheel tighter, trying to keep us steady. “Hold on, Addie.”