Page 61 of Double Bucked

CLAIRE

It’s right at the top of my list of things I don’t want to witness. Ransom and Jade pawing at each other like cats in heat.

Yet here I am.

I push my way blindly into the bathroom. I let the door slam shut behind me. I go to the sink and clutch the cold material.

Do not let them smell blood.

Do not let any of them know you’re wounded.

I breathe.

I only get a second of peace. The door opens. Jade comes in. She takes the sink next to mine, plops her purse down, and begins reapplying her makeup.

I want to stab her with her lipstick. I restrain myself.

My hair looks a wild mess. I start to pull it back, fixing some of the stray frizz underneath.

“Quite the performance out there,” Jade says. Her voice is this elegant, velvet purr. “Really showing the boys who’s boss, aren’t you?

There’s an insult in her tone. I ignore her. “Thanks.”

One of the facets is leaking. The water ticks as it taps against the bowl.

She wants girl talk? Fine.

Let’s talk.

“You and Ransom,” I say bluntly. “What’s that about.”

An amused smile stretches across her freshly sharpened lips. “You know what they call him, don’t you?” Jade says. Her eyes flicker from her image in the mirror to mine. “Wiley Riley. The fox in the henhouse. There are so many unhappily married women in this town…and that man…well. He gives them all a reason to smile.”

Then she pops her lipstick back in her purse, snaps it shut.

“See you on the battlefield,” she says and leaves.

I look in the mirror. My father’s gray eyes stare back at me.

“You’re Claire Preacher,” I tell myself. I make my voice hard as stone. “And you’re not going to let one dumbass cowboy ruin your life.”

19

RANSOM

Ihead back to the bar. I rest my elbows on the bar top and try to ignore this sick feeling churning around in my belly.

“Another pitcher, please, Miss Maeby.”

James’s tall form slides in beside me.

Great. Just what I need.

“And two whiskey gingers,” James adds. This close, I notice he even smells good. This clean, floral scent, like tea leaves. It’s fucking irritating. He pulls his dumb man-purse over his shoulder, and he reaches into it to pull out a wallet. “This round is on me.” He pushes a crisp hundred-dollar bill across the bar.

I can’t help it. I snort a bitter laugh. “Your generosity knows no bounds, chief.”

“It’s the least I can do since you’ve been kind enough to drive us around.”

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