West of Forever (Heartstone Ranch #1)(58)

“He is. Do you want some alone time?” I ask her.

One of the bronc riders passes by, staring at her with a tilt of his head. She grins and then looks to me. “You know, I think I might.”

I snort a laugh. “Sure you do.”

“Well, the other one was staring at you.”

I turn my head, and sure enough, another rider is grinning at me.

Only he’s a little short. The scruff on his face is sparse, his eyes are not a really nice color brown, more like a muddy brown than anything, and his shoulders are just a little narrow. Nothing like…oh, shit.

Nothing like Tristan.

I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh, hating that once again that man has entered my thoughts. “I’m going to find my seat,” I tell her.

“Suit yourself.”

“Have fun,” I say, turning with a smile.

“Oh, I will.”

Keeping my head down, I start to walk out of the barn area, hoping to avoid eye contact and conversations, as I know half of these people.

I collide—hard—with someone.

“Shit!” I yell.

“Damn it!” the man says, his hands moving to my arms to stop me from falling sideways.

“Thank—” I start to say, but the word dies on my lips when, over the man’s shoulders, my eyes meet a pair of brown ones I have stared into before, only a few feet away.

“Miss? Are you okay?” the man I collided with asks.

I nod, still unable to look away.

He’s here.

Tristan is…at the rodeo.

Outside of the horse stalls.

He smiles, a lazy one that does all kinds of things to my stomach. He’s talking to one of the barrel racers I recognize, Hope. Ugh. I don’t like her.

And not because she has her hand on his arm. Not because she’s batting her long lashes at him, probably being all flirty.

“Oh, Tristan, you’re so cute. Wanna fuck in the hay?”

He would respond, “Why, yes, Hope, I’d love that. Who wouldn’t want to bang you?”

She’d giggle. “He-he, I know, I’m very…talented.”

I scoff at the idea and turn back to the person I ran into. “I’m sorry. Thank you for catching me.”

He smiles. “Of course. You’re all right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He lifts the brim of his hat and walks off.

I turn back, ready to keep my head high, jealousy that I did not feel completely in check, and walk right past the lying said-he-wasn’t-going-to-be-here liar. Yes, I know I said lying twice. It bore mentioning a second time.

However, when I turn, he’s gone.

He and the little flirt who was touching him.

Ugh, get it together, Lark. You don’t care about other women when it comes to your nemesis.

No, I’m just having to remind myself of that because I’m a dumbass.

Whatever. This is perfect. I don’t even have to face him.

I start to walk, and suddenly there’s someone grabbing my arm, pulling me into a horse stall.

I scream, but a hand covers my mouth, trapping the sound.

Oh, God. I’m going to die.

Now I’m going to have to fight someone twice my size or…be raped or beaten or kidnapped.

My heart is pounding, against a very large, broad chest behind me. The man’s other arm wraps around my stomach, pulling me to him.

I close my eyes, hating that this is the end of my life. I’m going to die in a horse stall. How pathetic.

My mind races about all the things I didn’t do. Like punching Hope just once. It would’ve been fun. Or get married. Have babies. Make sure that my Olympia will go to Suzanne, because everyone else is stupid and undeserving.

I’ve never been to Italy. I’ve always wanted to go there.

I’ve never even been to the coast, seen the waves hitting the shoreline.

So many regrets.

So many dreams vanishing.

“Miss me, Lark?” the deep voice says against my neck.

My eyes pop open as the truth hits me.

It’s Tristan.

“I bet you did. I saw you staring.”

Oh, this asshole. Now I know I’m not going to die, but he is.

I raise my hand to his wrist, pulling it down. He lowers it and I turn. “You stupid prick!”

He blinks, head rearing back. “Hello to you too.”

“I thought I was going to die! You don’t grab a girl and pull her into the horse stalls.”

If looks could kill, he’d be dead. And I wouldn’t be sad about that. Not one bit.

He grins.

He might die anyway.

Then he starts to laugh softly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Ugh!” I huff, slapping his chest. “You’re so dead.”

Tristan pulls me to his chest. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise, I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

I glare up at him, his brown eyes boring into mine. “You’re not forgiven.”

“What if I promise to make it up to you?”

“Nope.”

“No? You won’t even let me try?”

Tristan’s playful tone is starting to thaw me, and I don’t like that. He should suffer. Be made to think some horrible punishment is about to befall him.