Page 34 of Double Bucked

I take a step backward. The floorboard creaks under my weight.

I sidestep quickly and round the corner, toward the stairway.

“One moment,” James says. I hear him walk to the bedroom door. There’s a silence, and I can only imagine he’s checking the hallway. Then the door clicks shut, and whatever he says next is too muffled to make out.

I keep moving. I sneak out the front door and, quietly, shut it behind me.

The sky is still in ribbons, but the colors are turning pale as the sun sets lower in the sky. The night has turned sharp with the mid-autumn chill, and I regret not taking a jacket with me.

Too late to turn back. Besides. I still have my whiskey.

I shouldn’t be sneaking around. But here I am, tiptoeing like a criminal in Daddy’s shadow.

I step over the stone walkway until my feet hit dirt. The grass tickles my bare ankles as I walk up the sloped hill toward the stables.

I won’t lie. It feels good to have grass between my toes.

As I get closer to the stable, I hear sounds of some sports program blaring on the television. It’s so loud he doesn’t even notice me step inside.

“Boom!” Ransom shouts. He throws up his fist high. “In your face, Cagney!”

He’s built his own personal tailgate. He’s pulled out a couple of box cartons to make a bench. He’s also pulled out the arm of the television from Chaucer’s stall so he can see it clearly. Chaucer, meanwhile, is roaming around free. There’s a coin-operated horse—an old, rusty thing that’s been around since I used to live here—and Chaucer stands beside it, chewing lazily on its rope hair.

Ransom has a cooler beside him, and he yanks out a beer, cracking it open in his palm.

“Nice setup you’ve got here,” I say.

Ransom jumps in his seat. His beer sprays him. “Jesus—all that is holy, woman, don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not exactly being stealthy.”

He looks me over. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

I pull my dress tight around my legs so it doesn’t hike up and sit down on the carton beside him.

I can feel his eyes on me. “Nice dress.”

“The Promise Sisters got me.”

He lets out a huh of a laugh. “Yep. Sounds about right.”

The ripped sleeve makes my dress drop just slightly, exposing the top of my breast. I can feel Ransom’s eyes on the bare skin.

A terrible, awful part of me doesn’t bother adjusting the sleeve.

“Watch this,” he says, then turns to the horse. “Chaucer. Beer me.”

Chaucer ambles over toward the cooler…and picks up a brush between his teeth. He drops it at Ransom’s feet.

“No—goddammit. Chaucer. Beer me.”

Chaucer brings over a shovel and drops that in front of us too.

I snort a laugh. “Impressive.”

He lifts a finger. “One day, he’s actually going to get a beer.”

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