Page 55 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“It wasn’t me.” I hold up my hand. “Anger Alley.”
I turn my back to him as I watch Jade join the group. Confidence in every step. Convinced, she’s going to win the wager.
And without me, she would have.
One hundred percent.
Josie climbs onto the booth bench, making a show of announcing their final decision. The way her hand gestures toward her thigh gives away that they’ve gone with my guess.
Which wasn’t a guess at all.
I watch it hit: watch Jade hear her puzzle spoken back to her, word for word.
Her mouth parts.
Her brows lift.
Her posture straightens.
That stillness consumes her. The kind she gets when she’s caught off guard, but also when she’s not sure how to react, so she does nothing at all. Then the shock in her eyes flips like aswitch. Her body goes rigid with the kind of fury I know all too well.
Our gazes collide.
We hold it, no words, no noise, just the two of us in that long, suffocating silence. A standoff, and neither of us is blinking. Neither of us is backing down.
I told you, I’m a fucking god at being the bad guy.
I expect her to lie her way out of it, but when the table erupts in cheers, I know she hasn’t. She’s just agreed to attend the rodeo and finish the bucket list we fucking wrote together.
That anger returns with a vengeance.
My brothers peel themselves from the table and beeline toward me.
“Absolute legend.” Levi claps me on the back like I just lassoed a wild horse.
“You’re leaving Hope?” It’s not like my brother.
The two have been inseparable ever since they got together. Nothing seems to pull them apart, not even a centuries-long feud.
The reminder pierces me.
He even takes turns eating meals between the Foxes and the Wildes and splitting holidays between the families. It’s sickening.
“She’s the gal’s DD.” Levi glances over, checking on her again.
If there was enough room in their vehicle, I’m sure he’d linger at Bucky’s until it was time for her to leave. Sappy sucker, or fortunate fucker.
“Heroic.” Wheeler’s grinning like an idiot, which he mostly does when he’s drunk, and he’s rarely drunk.
“You’re the cowboy Rain Man.” Dean double slaps my back as we walk to the door.
I say nothing and continue forward, ready to take another shot at the tire, only to be greeted by a group of leather-wrapped, irate velociraptors on Harleys.
Shit.
10: SAVE A TIRE, HIT A BIKER
HART
