Page 82 of Rough Ride

Grabbing Appleton by the neck.

Shoving him against the shelves.

Smashing his fist into Appleton’s stupid face.

Sawyer wasn’t just some guy cosplaying cowboy in boots and a Stetson hat. He was the real thing.

He was arealman.

“I enjoyed watching you tell off that rich asshole,” I said while driving him back to his hotel. “But I’m afraid you’re going to regret that.”

Sawyer gave me a sideways glance. “I’ve got a whole lot of regrets in my life. That ain’t one of them.”

“You say that now,” I warned. “But Salmon isn’t the kind of guy you want to make an enemy out of.”

Sawyer looked out the window. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“You should be,” I insisted. “He controls more than the rodeo. He controls the whole town.”

Sawyer slowly shook his head. “The charges will get dropped. There’s plenty of witnesses. As soon as I call my lawyer and they get their hands on the security tape from the bar, they’ll see what I saw. Appleton threatening you behind the bar, grabbing your arm. He’s the face of the rodeo—he won’t want that negative press, and neither will Salmon.”

“You’re not wrong there,” I admitted. “But even if the charges are dropped, what if Salmon gets you kicked out of the rodeo?”

“I doubt it. Cowboys have been getting into fights at the rodeo since before I was born. Hell, Appleton himself got into a brawl two years ago, and all they did was slap him with a warning. They’ll do the same to me, and that’ll be that.”

I pulled into the hotel parking lot and parked the car. “For your sake, I hope so.”

Sawyer held my gaze a moment, then nodded. “Thanks for the ride. And for bailing me out. I’ll pay you back.”

He reached for the door handle.

“Why did you do it?” I asked.

The fake leather of the seat creaked as he settled his weight back down and turned to me. “Some men need to be punched in the face. Appleton is one of those men.”

I shook my head at him. The answer wasn’t what I was looking for. “Why did you do it, really?”

“I just told you why,” Sawyer growled. “Chris Appleton is a low-down piece of shit. He does whatever he wants, regardless of the people around him. And when he doesn’t get his way, he cries about it. He’s a sore loser. I was sick of it.”

He stared at me, eyes still bloodshot.

“And I saw you standing there behind the bar,” he added in a softer tone. “The crowd was chanting, and you looked helpless. Now, I know youaren’thelpless, but you were outnumbered. Nobody was in your corner, except Johnny and Elijah, but that was a recipe for disaster. And I saw that look in your eyes.” He pointed at me. “The fight was going out of you. You were thinking about it. That if you just gave in to him, giving him a quick kiss, that it would stop anything bad from happening. And Sophie? That enraged me more than the way he grabbed your arm. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t let you do it. If spending a night in jail meant you didn’t have to debase yourself for that fucking cunt of a man, then that’s a trade I’ll make every goddamn day.”

Sawyer was always an intense man, but there was anewintensity in the way he spoke to me. It was something closer to passion. The certainty in his convictions, even after spending a night in jail and having bullshit charges thrown at him…

I hadn’t planned on kissing him, but I couldn’t help but lean across the console and press my mouth to his. He grunted in surprise, pushing into me, his lips churning against mine for a beautiful fraction of a second.

Then he put a hand on my chest, between my breasts, and pushed me back. “Don’t do that,” he warned.

My pulse was racing. “Don’t do what?”

“Tempt me,” he said in that deep, raspy voice. Smoke over oiled leather. “I don’t like to be toyed with, Sophie.”

All of my frustration boiled over.

“You thinkI’mthe one toying withyou?Are you fucking kidding me?”

Sawyer scowled. “I don’t—”

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