Page 28 of Eight Second Hearts

“Indie! Hey, girl!”

I turn at the exclamation to find Kim standing off the side, her smile bright and fake, her perfectly dyed blonde hair curled expertly beneath her rhinestone cowboy hat.

“Uh. . .” I say staring at her.

“Don’t just stand there, silly,” she says. “Introduce me to your friends!”

Ah. Now I understand. Kim saw that I’d managed to get closer with the Crimson Three despite thinking I wouldn’t, and now that I appear to be getting along with them, friendly even, she thinks she’s going to pretend we’re best friends. She also thinks I’ll remain professional and just introduce her for fear of repercussions.

That’s not how I operate.

Out in the desert, when you’re surrounded by soldiers, you don’t have time to coddle feelings. You don’t have time to be “professional”. You get the story. You get out. Hopefully you don’t get a bomb dropped on you if you’re lucky. You don’t caterto someone’s feelings. And you certainly don’t become a two-faced bitch.

I’m two seconds from telling her that, from ripping her a new asshole, but surprisingly, someone else beats me to talking.

“Don’t I know you?” Beau says, his smile fixed on his face.

Kim preens and pushes her hair over her shoulder. “You know who I am?”

He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, I do. You’re the buckle bunny that tried to sleep with me back in. . . Montana, was it?”

Kim flushes in embarrassment. “No. I think you have me mixed up with?—”

“No, it was definitely you,” Beau reassures her. “I remember. . . because I turned you down.” He leans in closer, almost sensually. “I’d remember that bad bleach job anywhere.” He flicks the rim of her hat. “You’re missing a rhinestone.”

My eyes go to the missing rhinestone in question I never even noticed until he pointed it out. Damn. Yeah. It really does look obvious though now that I see it. One of the larger rhinestones is just gone, like the fake gem fell out somewhere between here and Jackson, Mississippi.

Her face turns impossibly red, and she turns without a word, storming away. I glance at Beau appreciatively, pleased that he seemed to understand the situation.

“I don’t like her,” Beau comments when he catches me staring. “She’s unnecessarily mean to my little outsider.”

“Come on,” Ram encourages, grabbing my shoulder and directing me toward the prep area.

No one stops me from going back since I’m clearly with the Crimson Three. No one asks why I’m there or tells me I don’t belong. Everyone is just too busy working to care about little ole me.

“Ope, that’s my cue,” Beau says with a grin. Luckily, He’d caked on his clown makeup in the truck. He leans in close andsticks his tongue out at me. “How about a kiss for good luck, little outsider?”

I hesitate, but honestly, despite the events of the morning, I’m feeling a little high on life right now. Especially after he chased off Kim. “Sure,” I reason. “On the cheek.”

He turns his cheek to me with a smirk and I lean in. Just before my lips touch his face, he turns, and our lips meet. His hand is on the back of my neck before I can react and he deepens the kiss, and fuck me, I don’t even fight it. I kiss him back, just for a second, before I pull away. He doesn’t fight me. He lets me control my movements.

“Sneaky bastard,” I chastise him, my eyes narrowed.

He giggles. “I wanna be your dog, little outsider.”

And then the bastard winks at me and disappears toward the arena. I stare after him, amused.

Ram clearing his throat is what brings me back. “Try to stay outta trouble back here,” he says. “And this doesn’t mean we’re doing the interview.”

“Can I at least take pictures?” I ask the two of them. Ram glances at Tripp.

“I don’t fucking care,” Tripp scowls before he pulls a flask from his back pocket and tips it back.

Ram rips it out of his hands and tucks it into his own jeans. “Go get ready, asshole,” he commands.

And surprisingly, Tripp does exactly that. I watch him go find a bench to start getting on his gear.

“What’s that about?” I ask Ram, watching him carefully.

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