Page 42 of Wasted On You

Dallas came over while the woman chatted near the door. He looked at Mike Paul, then back at the women. With a shake of his head, the man ran his hands over his beard and winced. “I hope like hell you know what you’re doing.”

Mike Paul glanced over his shoulder. Ivy was laughing at something Vivian had said. The dimple on her right cheek was pronounced, and there were tears in her eyes.

“Sometimes a man has to listen to his gut.” She was so damn beautiful it hurt to look at her.

“And what’s your gut saying?”

“I have to see this through no matter what.”

Dallas frowned. “I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but the lady is wearing another man’s ring.”

Only a hundred times.“I’m aware.”

“There’s a line a man doesn’t cross.”

He glanced up at Henhawk. “If I thought Lafferty could make her happy, I’d back off. He’s not right for her.”

“She might disagree.”

“She might. I guess time will tell.” His reply was clipped. This was all or nothing. Either he won her back or lived half a life.

“Bring the heifer over,” Mike Paul said to Dallas.

He didn’t plan on living half a life.

Chapter12

By four o’clockthey were on their way to Mike Paul’s last call. The snow was beginning to fall again, which made the drive tricky, but with a truck built like a tank, Ivy felt safe. She pulled out her brown paper bag and rifled through the remnants from lunch. There wasn’t much left—a half-eaten granola bar, some sour candy and fruit. She offered Mike Paul an apple.

“Thanks.” He took a big bite out of it but kept his eyes on the road.

She munched on the granola bar. The day had been busy, and despite their situation, she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. Maybe it was because she was the kind of person who needed to do things—keeping busy was good for the mind and soul. And lately she hadn’t done much but sleep, visit, eat…

And do her best to avoid Mike Paul.

Or maybe it was because she was bored. Life on the road with a band was interesting, to say the least, but with the holidays, things were quiet. Too quiet. It made a girl think about stuff she shouldn’t be thinking about.

Ivy snuck a look at Mike Paul. He loved this life he’d carved out for himself, and he was good at it. He had a connection with animals that was uncanny. A single touch could put a nervous cow at ease. A low murmur could quiet an excited colt.

A memory came from out of nowhere, and she was helpless to stop it. March. Fourth grade.

“Get out of my way,” Mike Paul shouted at the gaggle of boys who stood in a circle near the big tree behind the schoolyard.

The spring thaws were heavy, and mud coated their boots. A storm the night before had broken free a nest. Two of the four eggs were already smashed—from either the fall or the sticks the boys were digging at it with.

She watched as Mike Paul pushed through the crowd and glared at Edwin Winters, a boy who was two years older, twenty pounds heavier, and at least a foot taller. He should have been in middle school, but he’d been held back the year before.

“I’ll kick your butt from here to Bozeman if you don’t stop poking at the nest.” Mike Paul glared up at him.

“I’d like you to try.” Edwin laughed and waved his stick while Mike Paul moved in front of the nest, shielding it, his expression fierce. “Get out of my way, Darlington, or this stick will be poking you up the butt.”

“My stick is bigger,” Ivy said, moving forward until she stood beside Mike Paul. She pushed up her glasses and lifted her chin. They were going to get their asses kicked, but no way could she let Mike Paul face him alone.

“You’re just a girl. And you look ugly with those glasses. Stay out of it.”

Mike Paul held his stick forward. “Shut up and say sorry right now.”

Edwin chortled and made a face. “As if, loser.”

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