Page 44 of Roped in Rawhide
“They’re jealous of something.” My idle hands wave at a few who are admiring our layout and the man responsible for it.
“All set, baby.” He pats the cushioned seat of the lumberjack plaid chair.
Pillowy softness cocoons me when I lower myself into it. After slipping off my sandals, I lift my feet onto the small stool and recline in comfort. “Ohhh, this is nice.”
His brows wag as he claims the spot beside me. “Much has improved since we were kids.”
I laugh at the understatement, glancing at the wooded section of land at the south edge of the park. “Do you think teenagers still sneak around over there when their parents aren’t looking?”
“Do horses have four legs?” He chuckles. “Want to check it out for our childhood’s sake?”
My body sinks deeper into the lazy position he instigated. “I’m not moving.”
“And that’s why I packed a cooler.” He whips open the lid. “What would you like to drink?”
As I inspect the choices, a frown hangs on my lips. “Where’s the bomb pop soda?”
Chance blanches a ghastly shade of white as if he forgot my birthday. “I didn’t grab any.”
“Could you get me one?” My thumb blindly stabs at the food trucks lined up on the street where we came in. “Please?”
He’s already sprung up from his seat. “Coming right up, Wildflower.”
“Oh!” I call out before he’s gone three feet. “And a hot dog?”
“Anything for you.” He blows me a kiss, which I catch and tuck into my bra.
His stare turns molten while he backs away. Heat spreads in my lower belly when he turns around and I shamelessly ogle his ass. Those Wranglers fit him like sinful temptation.
“Is that your boyfriend?”
The question comes from somewhere on my right, but seems way out of left field. I ignore her, assuming she’s not asking me. But then she moves closer. Her curiosity burns into my profile, forcing me to acknowledge her.
“What was that?” I paste on my customer service smile.
“That cowboy.” She points in the direction Chance went. “Are you dating him?”
My eyes narrow. “Why?”
“If you’re not, I want to.” Her bold audacity has me sitting up straight.
“He’s mine,” I grind out.
She flips a chunk of midnight hair over her shoulder. “Well, if he were mine, I’d treat him better. He’s going to get tired of being ordered around by someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
Her focus drops to the scars on my left arm, carving a cruel path down to those that brand my leg like an egg slicer. “You should be more grateful.”
And this is why I usually wear long sleeves and jeans. Even when it’s a hundred degrees out. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of hurting me. Chance has empowered me and my flaws. She can fuck all the way off.
“Awwww.” I press my left hand to my chest, putting the damage from my accident on open display. “It makes sense why you’re single.”
She sneers, morphing her pretty features into a snarled mess. “Who says I’m single?”
“You implied it by trying to steal my man.” I bat my lashes at her. “Unless you’re in an open relationship or willing to cheat. Or maybe you just wanted to ridicule me.”
Her huff is the sound of a spoiled brat not getting her way. She spins on her heel and stomps off. Good riddance.
