Page 11 of Unmasked Rivalry
It’s like he’s trying to upset me, but I don’t know why.
“You didn’t know him. You don’t know a goddamn thing about it.” My voice is shaking, but I don’t care. I glare at him, then the group, and then I turn and walk out.
“Callie!” Mera calls, but I don’t stop.
I make it fifteen feet before I realize I have no idea where I’m going, but if I turn around now, I’ll probably burst into tears. I hate crying, especially near people like that. I keep walking, past the line of bikes and down the drive, head full of fire and throat tight, until the only light comes from random streetlights.
I hear the roar of an engine behind me only minutes later, and turn to see a bike coming fast, then slowing as it nears. Knox. Of course. I guess he’s not done being a dick. He doesn’t turn the engine off as the bike comes to a stop, and all I can see in the night is the smoke trailing out of the bike and eerily sitting in the glow of the streetlamp.
“Get on,” he says.
I glare at him, almost horrified. “No.”
His voice goes low, almost a growl. “Callie. Get on the fucking bike.”
“Why?”
He looks away, jaw tight, then back at me. “Because you can’t walk home.”
“How about...fuck you.”
“Get on the fuckin’ bike,” he bellows, so loudly I flinch.
I don’t know why, but I do as he asks. Maybe because I am drunk and literally have no idea where I’m going. The second my arms are around his waist, he guns it, tearing off down the road, and I have to bury my face in his jacket to keep the wind from whipping my face. The night air turns my skin to goosebumps, but I don’t care. It feels good, reckless, nothing like safe.
He pulls up short in front of my house, the back wheel skidding in the gravel. I get off, and he does, too. Standing in front of me, his presence overpowering.
“I’ll watch you go inside,” he murmurs.
I stare up at him, alcohol making me brave. “You’re wrong about my brother. Don’t ever talk about him like that again.”
He nods, sharply, then without another word, he leans in, plants a kiss right on my forehead—a real, burning, grounding thing that makes my insides flip. “Goodnight, Callie.”
Then, just like that, he’s gone, the roar of the engine fading into the dark. I stand there a minute, stunned and furious. When I close my front door behind me, I’m still in his shirt. I don’t take it off until morning.
I WAKE UP TO THE SOUNDof someone tapping on my car window.
My entire upper half jerks upright, and my back screams at me as I jerk upright. First thing I see is the morning sun—too bright, an assault—and second thing I see is a man in mirrored sunglasses with an olive complexion leaning down to peer inside at me. I’m draped on my back seat, drooling on Knox’s shirt, hair everywhere, gum stuck god-knows-where.
Who the hell is this man?
He taps again, harder this time, and I wave my hand, letting him know I’m coming. I rub my face and snake one arm around so I can reach the handle, then lower the window a sliver. The guy bends closer. His eyes scan my car, and I’m suddenly very aware that he now knows I sleep in my car.
Suddenly, I don’t feel safe.
Maybe the rats are a better option.
“Morning, miss,” he says, voice a perfect blend of ranch-hand and used car salesman. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Name’s Ralston. Ralston Cupp. I’m here to talk about the cattle.”
I blink, try to organize my thoughts. “Wrong house,” I croak, voice shredded from sleep. “No cattle here. Nope.”
The man grins, revealing suspiciously white teeth. “That so? Hard to tell these days. The folks who called me sure sounded like this was the spot.” He leans in, squinting into the back seat. “You the cousin?”
I shake my head, then instantly regret it as it feels like my brain is rattling around in my skull. “No cousin,” I lie. “Just...Callie. I’m staying here for the summer. My uncle’s house.”
Only a partial lie.
He nods and straightens. “Anyone else staying here?”
