Page 43 of Something Tattered
I gazed up at him, wondering which Joel was real – the jerk I'd left at the campsite, or the nice guy who'd been rescuing me nonstop ever since.
Searching his face, I couldn’t be sure. He was full of contradictions, and there were so many questions I wanted to ask.
Where did you come from?
How do you know Derek?
And then, there was the scariest question of all.If it weren't for the cowboy, would you still be out here, dancing with me?
But I didn't ask any of those questions. Instead, I leaned into him and rested my warm face against the cool cotton of his T-shirt. His chest was hard, and his movements were smooth and easy, soothing me into a blissful trance that felt way too good, all things considered.
I let my eyelids flutter shut, and tried to block out everything else – the drunken crowd shifting around us, the muted whoops and hollers from the booth I'd just left, and the certain knowledge that the song wouldn't last forever.
Unfortunately.
Chapter 21
Sure enough, the song was over way too soon, replaced by a different slow song, newer than the one before. Reluctantly, I pulled back and smiled up at my rescuer. "Thanks again."
But he didn't let go. Instead, he glanced toward the booth and asked, "You wanna go back?"
Through the shifting crowd, I looked toward my party, only to feel myself cringe. It wasalmostas bad as I feared.
Surprisingly, the cowboy was still wearing all of his clothes. But, on the squirmy side, he was straddling April's lap and thrusting against her while the others cheered him on. As for April herself, she was grinning like it was her first time at the rodeo, and she'd just won herself a prize bull.
Watching her obvious enjoyment, I had to wonder if something was wrong with me. Why didn'tIlike that sort of thing?
It's not that I didn't appreciate a good-looking guy. And it's not that I was completely inexperienced when it came to sex. It was just that, well, I liked things to be a little more private – and preferably not the result of money changing hands.
I looked back to Joel and said, "I guess I'm notquiteready."
The corners of his mouth lifted. "You and me both."
Relieved, I leaned back into him and sighed with contentment when his arms closed tighter around my back, shielding me from the spectacle that I'd been desperate to avoid. Soon, we were moving in time with the new song, and I thanked my lucky stars that Joel hadn't escaped when he had the chance.
And yet, my thoughts remained a jumbled mess. For what seemed like the millionth time, I asked myself why I hated something that everyone else seemed to love.
I was still mulling that over when I heard Joel's voice, quiet against my hair. "Regretting it?"
I pulled back to gaze up at him. "Regretting what?"
His gaze shifted to the booth, where the rodeo ride was still going strong.
Oh, that.
I had to laugh. "Heck no. When you've seen one, you've seen them all."
I froze in mid-motion.Oh, crap.That sounded terrible, didn't it? Hoping for a recovery, I resumed moving and tried again. "I don't mean that all guys are alike or anything. I just mean…" Again, I looked toward the booth. "It's just embarrassing, you know?"
As I watched, April threw back her head and laughed as the cowboy shimmied toward her.Shewasn't embarrassed.Shewas loving it.
Then again, why wouldn't she? Unlike me,shehad the cloak of anonymity. IfAprilwere caught ogling some professional hottie,shewouldn't wake up the next morning to see her own image in the weekly newspaper, or worse, on some gossip channel.
Shewouldn’t have to hear how stupid she looked, or see the intrusive articles that accompanied every single photo.Shewouldn't have to read the one ghastly paragraph they always included, every single time, without fail.
By now, I could recite the thing from memory.
Melody Blaire is the heiress and only daughter of Blaydon Blaire, the world-renowned artist who died with his wife in a private plane crash.
