Page 31 of Untamed

My jaw tightens in irritation. The girl is a little firecracker, sassy and big mouthed. Mila has a couple of those traits, but she is way more reserved than her friend.

“I’m good,” I mutter, not bothering to look at them.

“Sure you are,” Nova teases. Like a dog with a bone she won’t let this go. “He secretly likes us being here,” she whispers conspiratorially.

“Doubt it,” I grumble.

“Come on, Nova, let’s leave Colter in peace,” Mila finally speaks up, her voice like a hit of adrenaline to my heart.

I turn to look at her, my chest tightening when I take in her expression. Soft. Beautiful. Mine.

I shake my head.

No.

Not mine.

After what happened the other night, and my talk with Leroy, I’ve decided for the final time, that I need to stay away from Mila. Only trouble can come from being around her and I’m not about to risk everything I’m working toward for a piece of pussy—even if that pussy belongs to the most exquisite woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I put the other night down to a moment of insanity, and it can’t happen again. Leroy’s words play in my mind on a loop. If there’s a chance that Garrett is going to fuck everything up, then I need to keep my head straight. My goal is to represent the Becker rodeo team until I can make enough money to go out on my own again.

Mila is a distraction; one I can’t afford to have.

So, for my own sake, I need to push her away.

Pushing off the metal rail, I don’t respond or even spare her a glance as I make my way over to Garrett and his harem of women. If I’m going to make it clear to Mila that we’re not going to happen, then there’s no time like the present.

The women practically beg for my attention as I step up to the group, batting their lashes and sticking their chests out.

My teeth grind together. Fucking buckle bunnies.

I just need to remind myself they’re a means to an end.

Chapter Twenty-Three

MILA

Rage and jealousy ignite inside me as I watch Colter.

A brunette woman is sitting on his lap as if she belongs there—flirting, laughing and snuggling her face into his neck. The way she clings to him is in a way that I only wish I could. But it’s not the worst thing. No. He’s smiling. Colter issmiling. For a man who’s default setting is resting bitch face, it’s…odd. In the time I’ve known him, he’s never given his smiles freely and it’s something I’ve only experienced a couple of times, but when he did, it was everything. And the fact he’s giving it toher, some random, well I want to go over there and pull her from his lap and ask him what the hell he’s playing at.

But I can’t.

Colter doesn’t owe me anything and he sure as hell didn’t promise me a damn thing, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from twisting with nausea. If it’s some kind of point he is trying to make, then mission accomplished. He’s made it. Why is he not shoving her away? Why is he indulging her? Did I really mean nothing to him? No. I refuse to believe that. The connection between us is not one sided.

If only I could ask him.

But that would be reckless.

Not only will it draw attention, but Brandon is watching me like a hawk. His stare weighs heavy on me, waiting for me to mess up and prove his suspicions right.

If I approach Colter, it’ll give Brandon the ammunition he is so desperately searching for. And if I pull the trigger, there will be no going back. Despite our conversation on the porch the other night, and the civil way it ended, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s waiting for me to slip.

My lips press together in a hard line as I watch the scene unfold before my eyes. Like a car crash, or maybe I’m just a masochist, I can’t look away. The woman leans in, whispering something in Colter’s ear. With every stroke of her fingers across his bicep, every touch, every smile, I feel like I’m losing something. Even if that something was never mine to begin with. Still, that doesn’t stop the thick green jealousy slithering through my veins, or the way my pulse quickens. So, with my fingers gripping the railing, I inhale a calming breath and look away before I do something stupid.

“Ugh, desperate much?” Nova’s voice snaps me from my thoughts, and I glance over to where she’s sitting beside me.

Maverick and Brandon stand at the bottom of the bleachers—as if they are our personal bodyguards—talking with friends. I wanted to leave after Garrett won his competition, but Nova insisted we stay for the barrel racing event. Not that I’m paying much attention to it. I’m too deep in my own anger, pissed at Colter’s behavior. It just seems so unlike him. It was only a couple nights ago that his mouth was pressed to mine.

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