Page 56 of Bull Rush

“Stop doing that!” I yell, falling to my knees and covering the rest of the invitations with my arms.

“Read the invitation to me,” he repeats, his voice cool and even.

“Fine. You’re a fucking psycho, though, you know that? I thought we’d made some progress. But no.”

“Read—” he starts, but I interrupt him by doing what he asks.

“You are cordially invited to the wedding of Hazel Briggs Stockton and Curtis Martin Flanagan at Bull Rush Ranch on March 15 at one p.m. Reception will follow at the Purgatory Falls Inn, with a post-reception party at the Seven Sins Bar in town.” I look up, and he’s furious.

“So you’re going to marry him with my name, on my ranch, and celebrate it at the inn my great grandparents built? Do I have that right?”

“Where did you think we were going to get married, Ramsey? There’re only a couple of places in town that can accommodate a wedding, and I’m not made of money.”

“Somewhere,anywherefucking else,” he roars. “Are you going to wear the same dress too? Let him fuck you in it? Make sure he spends a couple of hours on his knees for you first first though. Repeat the whole experience. Then again, I doubt he has the same kind of stamina I do.”

“I have a new dress. And I tried to have the wedding at the casino hotel, in the ballroom, but your brothers refused to allow the booking.”

There’s a flash of surprise on his face beforehe grins. “Good for them. At least someone with the Stockton name knows what loyalty means.”

I slap him without thinking. The crack of my palm on his cheek is deafening, and my breath catches in my throat when I realize what I’ve done. His eyes blaze with fury, and I’ve stoked the fire even hotter.

Might as well lean into it.

“You want to talk about loyalty? I don’t think you’re ready for that conversation.” I steel my spine, holding back the thing I really want to say since it’ll only make this fight worse—because loyalty would have meant he stayed on his family land with his family.

We stand in silence for what seems like an eternity, staring each other down and daring the other one to make the next move.

“You’re right. We can save the small talk for another day,” he answers at last, his calm tone returning.

I turn to leave the room. I’ve had enough of him, and I’m so pissed I could kill him myself.

“Where’s the dress?” he asks. “I want to see it.”

I stop in my tracks and turn to look at him.

“So you can burn it too?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” A wicked little smile grows on his lips. “Maybe that too.”

I turn around and poke him in the chest. “Absolutely not.”

“Was I going to get one?”

“Get what?” I frown; momentarily imagining Ramsey in a wedding dress brings an unwanted smile to my lips.

“An invitation.”

“No.” I look at him like he’s lost what’s left of his mind.

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“Because you didn’t want me to see you reliving ours orbecause you thought seeing me would make it too hard to marry him?”

“Because I hate you with the fire of a thousand fucking suns! I hate how you sweep in and turn everything upside down. How you make me rethink every choice I ever made. How you just walk in and take whatever you want whenever you want and damn the consequences. You’re trying to ruineverything.”

“Not everything. Just you.” His hands go to my robe and untie it; it falls to the side, and he sees the lingerie I’m wearing in place of my usual post-shower tee and shorts. I’m mad that I even put it on now.

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