Page 37 of Double Bucked

I tilt my head back to look at him. “I got in a plane, not a time machine, you know that, right?”

He chuckles.

I settle back in. “Yes. There was tea. And crumpets. I went to school. Learned a lot. Worked hard. Got a degree in business. Then another in psychology. Modeled to make ends meet—you’d be surprised by how similar it is to show riding. Chin up! Back straight!”

“Sounds like a perfect fit,” Ransom says.

“Doesn’t it? But in reality, it was just…one stroke of bad luck after the other. Money was hard. I bounced around places for a long time. I had no friends. My French was rusty. Oh, and to top it all off, my apartment burned down.”

“What?”

I wave it off. “It’s fine. I wasn’t in it.” My tongue goes heavy. I go quiet, debating, and then finally admit, “The worst part of it all was…I kept thinking that all of it would’ve been bearable if you were there.”

His hands still in my hair.

“Why didn’t you get on that plane?”

“Bear…”

“Don’t Claire-Bear me. I deserve an explanation. Now.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “You got a hair tie?”

“No.”

“Check my pockets.”

I dig into his jacket. In the big pockets, I find a lighter, a bottle cap, a utility tool, his wallet, and…a hair tie. A woman’s hair tie.

I’m shocked by the hot jealousy that roars through my veins.

Does Ransom have a girlfriend?

Is he having sex with other people?

Is he braiding another woman’s hair?

Of course. He’s no priest.

It’s been five years. He’s allowed to move on.

I’ve moved on. I have a fiancé.

So why is my only thought Fuck you, he’s mine?

“No,” I lie.

“Ah, well. Nice while it lasted,” he says. He gives my braid a little tug before releasing it. He drains his beer and tosses the empty in a pile of hay.

“Chaucer,” he says, “Beer me.”

The horse picks up a mitten and drops it at his feet. Ransom begins his story.

11

RANSOM

Then.

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