Page 24 of Bucked By Love

20

RANSOM

Iguide the three of us through the backwoods. We cross the old railroad. Chaucer slows when we leave the dirt and click along pavement instead.

Claire’s body sways against mine. She bumps against me in time with each one of Chaucer’s steps. I’m trying not to like the feel of her so much.

I lead us into a gravel lot. We’re outside a tavern with a big, painted sign that says: Maeby’s Tavern.

Chaucer is panting happily when I bring him to a halt. There’s a dog bowl, so I bring that over. He snorts and accepts it.

“Where are we?” Claire asks, eyeing the dark windows of the tavern suspiciously.

“Watering hole. Hop down.”

I extend an arm to help her down. She slides off the horse. Her dress rides up her thigh and I get a handful of soft, warm Claire as she gets to her feet.

Her hands catch on my shoulders. Those gray eyes meet mine briefly before she seems to realize how close we are. She steps back, pushing her dress down her thighs. I catch her glancing around.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “We’re south of the railroad. None of your friends are gonna catch you here with me.”

“I’m not…” Her mouth twists. “I wasn’t worried.”

It’s a lie, but it’s a sweet one.

I tie Chaucer to a post. Claire’s eye’s narrow. “You can’t leave him here! That’s a…” She looks around quickly. She drops her voice. “That’s a million-dollar horse.”

“These are good people. He’ll be fine.”

Claire doesn’t look convinced. She rubs her hands over her arms as though she’s feeling for fleas.

I hold out my hand. “Trust me.”

She hesitates, but…she takes my hand.

Claire Preacher is holding my hand.

I could die now and be perfectly happy.

I guide her into the tavern. The second we step inside, we’re met with a burst of loud music and the warmth of too much body heat all in one place. They’ve got a live band going—some kind of folk rock, with a violinist with braids in her hair and a rough-voiced singer, pounding his feet in time with the beat.

Maeby’s Tavern isn’t anything fancy—holes in the upholstery, dusty old photographs on the wall, the constant smell of stale beer. But it’s my hole in the wall.

I check Claire for her reaction, expecting a sneer. Instead, I just see this wide-eyed curiosity that makes my heart flip.

“Grab a booth,” I tell her over the music. “I’ll get us something to drink.”

Claire nods and vanishes over to the booths. I head to the bar. Miss Maeby herself is manning it. She’s got this stringy blonde hair she lets run wild around her shoulders and a roughness about her that makes people think twice before messing with the bartender.

But when you get on her good side, there’s no better place to be. She’s got a cackling laugh that’ll light you up.

I lean against the bar and wait my turn. When she comes around to me, I order: “Two of your best, ice-coldest beers, please.”

Maeby side-eyes me. She pulls out two Cokes, uncapping them, and pushes them in front of me.

“You’re really cramping my style here, Miss Maeby.”

“Dance, sugar.”

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