Page 36 of Double Bucked

“It’s like being a superhero, but more of a pain in the ass.”

I bite back on a grin. I rub my thumb over the smooth neck of the glass bottle.

I can’t help but watch Ransom’s hands out of the periphery of my vision. Big hands. Calloused hands. He’s picking at the label of his beer, distractedly peeling it from the glass.

He can’t seem to keep his hands still either.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Watching TV. My trailer doesn’t have one.”

“Your…trailer?”

A sideways grin cuts across his face. “What, you didn’t see my castle on the way in? I don’t blame you. It’s pretty well hidden. Mr. Preacher let me park it on the property, so long as I keep it behind the trees and out of sight.”

“Oh.”

Ransom stops picking at his bottle. He stares at me. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“That pity sneer. It might not be a yacht in the Hamptons, but dammit, I like my life.”

I lift my eyebrows. “And you have no regrets?”

He shakes his head. “You know better than to ask me that.”

The air between us is thick. Heavy.

Chaucer lets out a small, sweet huff and nuzzles his love.

“What about you, Miss High Horse?” Ransom says.

“Excuse me?”

He shrugs. “I might not have a fancy TV, but at least I’m not Rodeo Barbie.”

My jaw goes tight. “Fuck you.”

Those brown eyes meet mine. “Go on. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I strangle my beer. “I came out here because I was suffocating inside, and now, somehow, you and your idiot mouth made me feel ten times worse. So. Congratulations.”

I start to rise, but I’m halted when he grabs my wrist. “I’m sorry,” he gets out. “Stay. I’ll keep my idiot mouth shut.”

I waver. But those chestnut browns are soft now.

He means it. Ransom apologizes with his whole chest.

I sit back down, but this time, I let my ass hit the floor at Ransom’s feet. I settle down between his legs, and he knows what to do. He sets his beer down beside me. His hands collect the blonde hair at the nape of my neck. I feel the gentle tugs as he starts to braid my hair back in a thick rope.

When Ransom and I couldn’t talk with words, we spoke with touches. This feels right.

“Tell me about you,” he says after a long stretch of easy silence.

“What about me?”

“About your life since you left. I wanna hear about…tea and crumpets.”

---