Page 6 of Fire Away
“Breaking News: New-in-town Westridge attorney arrested after courthouse altercation. It’s got a shit ton of comments,” Tripp laughs. “Damn, what the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I’m sure they’re blowing it out of proportion for clicks.”
“Well, I can’t say this is what I had in mind when I said you needed to get out there and start dating again,” Blythe points out. “But good grief, she ispretty.”
It’s obvious when the wheels start spinning in my sister’s mind. If I don’t get out of here quickly, she’s going to have a thousand more questions that I don’t have the answers to.
Heston shakes his head and rubs at his temple in his spot on the recliner. I pin him with a stare before he has a chance to give me any shit. He wouldn’t normally have a comment in aconversation like this. But something tells me he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to make fun of my less-than-impressive dating track record.
“A rancher and a jailbird. Classic,” Gage says while leaning down and resting his chin on Blythe’s shoulder to hide a smile.
“Save it,” I roll my eyes and swipe my keys from the bowl on the island.
“Wait,” Tripp smirks and folds his arms, still leaning against the couch. “Are you ditching us to go bail out your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I mumble.
Grabbing my phone from the table and swinging my keys around my index finger, I trudge toward the front door.
“Bring her back here so we can get the full story!” Blythe yells when I’m halfway out the door.
“Ask them if you can keep the handcuffs—” I slam the door shut behind me, cutting Tripp off before he gets a chance to finish his sentence. I may be outside now, but I can still hear him and Gage howling with laughter.
Even with the sun down, it’s still hot in West Texas. The air hangs heavy and humid, making my shirt stick to the skin on my back and my breaths feel deeper than they should.
My truck’s driver’s side window slides down as I hold the button before firing up the engine. I need to feel the air as I make my way into town. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive from the ranch. Plenty of time to figure out how to wipe the nervous sweat off my palms while talking to Savannah Chase without her noticing.
3
SAVANNAH
“You’re free to go, Ms. Chase,” the clerk says in an uninterested monotone.
She looks to be about my age, late twenties, and not too thrilled about working the night shift. She smacks her gum and doesn’t make eye contact with me from behind the thick glass barrier as she pushes my bag of belongings across the counter. Just as I pick it up and open the flap, my movement stills, and my knees lock at the deep sound of the unmistakable voice behind me.
“Guess you can’t get out of letting me take you home this time.”
My face fixes in a scowl and I turn around slowly on my heel. There’s no point in pretending to be pleasant with him now, he’s clearly already signed the papers and paid my bail. It was probably a poor decision to turn and look at him. God, he’s distracting. I wish he wasn’t so tall and his jeans didn’t fit like they do. It’d make hating him a whole lot easier. I take a breath and avert my gaze to clear my thoughts.
This is the guy who pretended to like you just to make his ex jealous, Savannah.
The urge to make a scene and cuss him out is strong now that I’ve reminded myself of that little fact, but I’m not sure it’s worth the risk of making even more of a fool of myself in public than I already have in the last twenty-four hours. Lifting my chin, I tuck the bag of belongings under my arm and walk straight toward the door.
“Oh, Warren! So nice to see you! Careful on the ride home, it’s supposed to storm tonight,” the clerk calls out. It’s clear how much more excitement and warmth she has in addressing him compared to how she spoke to me.
“Will do,” he answers her and tips the brim of his hat. “See you at the ranch next weekend?”
She beams and nods enthusiastically like she’s just won the lottery. Give me a fucking break. And why would she be seeing him at the ranch next weekend?
“Awesome. Have a great night.” Warren flashes her a charming smile over his shoulder and waves.
At first, I found it fascinating how much the people in this community obviously adored him. The night we first met, our conversation was constantly interrupted by different people fawning over him, going in for an earnest handshake or hug, and gushing over him and his family. Now, I just find it irritating.
My hand doesn’t make it to the door handle fast enough before he pushes it open for me and waits for me to walk through. With pursed lips and an eye roll, I step outside. As I pass by him, my traitorous senses inhale his unavoidable scent. The same intoxicating cloud of leather and musk that I remember.
Attempting to put some distance between us, my determined steps make my heels click-clack against the sidewalk. Even when the door to the police station slams behind us, I don’t slow down, in hopes of finally leaving this dreadful day behind.
“Hey,” Warren calls out. I can hear him jogging to catch up with me, and it doesn’t take him long with legs nearly twice the length of mine. “I’m actually parked that way,” he says, pointing over his shoulder.
