Page 58 of Wild As Her

Most of the town saw our family as nothing but crooks, liars, and cheats, thanks to my father. The man who ran our family name into the ground so deep, I’m still trying to dig it out. But the show seems to be helping people forget that, so there's that.

I tell myself I don’t care. I’ve told myself that for years.

And then Cami steps into the fire for me. I don’t hear the start of it, but I catch the tail end.

Violet murmurs next to me, her beer halfway to her mouth. “Oh, hell.”

I turn toward the bar just in time to see Cami squaring up against a couple of out-of-towners, her hands planted on her hips, her chin tilted high, her expression looking dangerous like I've only ever seen when she’s about to win a fight. My stomach tightens.

One of the men, some slicked-back haired bastard with too much cologne and not enough common sense, chuckles, swirling his drink. “I’m just saying, the guy’s old man was dirty as hell. Why the hell would anyone trust a Jessop?”

I don't recognize him; he must be from out of town. Why he thinks he knows my family is beyond me.

Cami doesn’t even hesitate. “You want to run that by me again?”

My brows lift. Interesting.

The man shrugs. “Look, I don’t know what this littleRancher Finds a Wifeshow is trying to prove, but it sure as hellain’t making any of the Jessops look any better.” He laughs, nudging his buddy. “I mean, come on. You really think he’s different than his crooked old man?”

I expect Cami to roll her eyes. To smirk, take a sip of her beer, and let it go. She doesn’t. Instead, she steps closer. I know that stance. It’s the same stance she had at seventeen, when she punched a guy for calling her trash because of her own father and the reputation he left his family with when he was acting similar to my father. We've always had that in common. The shitty father club.

It’s also the same stance she had at sixteen, when she walked into that rodeo and took first place on a horse everyone said couldn’t be ridden.

It’s also the stance of a woman who could tear someone apart with nothing but words and a sharp enough glare.

And I’m rooted to the floor, breath locked in my chest, watching her do it. Because it's always magical and a sight to see.Never argue with a woman whose mom was her first bully. They will dissect you in ways you’ve never imagined. She’s been defending herself from a grown woman since she was a child. No one stands a chance against her.

“I don’t think he’s different,” she says, her voice steady, smooth, lethal. “I know he is.”

Oh, shit. And here it is.

The man snorts, shaking his head. “That right? What are you, fucking him?”

Cami ignores the jab and leans in, slow and easy. “I know for a fact that if you have something to say about the Jessops, you’d better say it to their faces. Not sit here running your mouth like some coward too scared to say it to someone's face.”

He laughs and spits when he says, "And apparently he needs some bitch to fight his battles for him. What do you like work for him or something?"

She looks at him and says, "Getting real tired of men resorting to calling women bitches when their brain can’t supply them with anything slightly witty. Keep it up, buddy and you’ll have a battle of your own."

His jaw tics. “That a threat, sweetheart?”

She gives a slow smile. God help me, she actually smiles.

“Oh, honey.” She reaches for his glass, dumps his whiskey out onto his lap, and sets it back down like nothing happened. “It’s a promise.”

Silence.

Thick, heavy, buzzing silence.

And then Violet and Poppy start cackling.

Walker leans back against the bar, crossing his arms, shaking his head. “Damn.”

The guy stares at her, open-mouthed, then turns to his friend, as if to say,Can you believe this shit?

The friend just mutters, “You had it coming, man.”

The guy mutters something under his breath, throws some bills on the table, and stalks off, wiping at the front of his pants.

---