Page 16 of Eight Seconds to Ride

“Save it, kid,” Shooter replies, cutting him off. “Get the fuck off our campsite before I remove you myself.”

“Shooter!” I hiss as Michael scurries off without another word. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He doesn’t bother responding. Instead, he storms off, heading toward the camper. Before he can get the door open, I wrap my hand around his bicep, and he spins to face me, eyes flared and teeth bared.

“Don’t,” is all he says.

“Don’t what? What the hell was that back there?”

In a move I don’t see coming, he spins me, shoving me against the side of the camper as he leans in close to my face. “It was nothing,” he spits out. “We have a gig tomorrow, and we all need to be focused. Nobody but us should’ve been at our campsite. It’s common fucking sense, Addams.”

My brows knit as I go over what he just said. It doesn’t make any sense. “What are you talking about? The whole area is littered with people from surrounding sites. I didn’t see you kicking any of them off.” And then it hits me, my eyes going wide. “You were jealous.”

Shooter snorts out a laugh. “I’ve got nothing to be jealous of.”

“Bull.” I shove him, putting a little space between us. “You were jealous he was hitting on me.That’swhy you kicked him off like that.”

Once again, he closes the distance, backing me into a corner, his lips right next to my ear. “You fucking wish. Like I said, I’vegotnothing to be jealous of.But now that you mention it, you could be a nice guy and help me celebrate my win again. You know…like last time.”

When his tongue flicks against my earlobe, a bolt of pleasure soars down my spine from the contact, and I have to stop myself from letting out a gasp. Shooter presses his hips into me, his thickening erection matching my own. When he turns his head, his lips brush my cheek before he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. Our noses practically touch with his proximity.

I’m hyperaware of the fact that anybody could round the corner and find us like this.

“What do you say, Addams? Wanna get on your knees for me again?”

His tongue dips out, and he glides it along my bottom lip, a shiver running through me. It would take next to nothing for him to close the distance and seal our lips, and if I’m being honest, I want that more than anything right now.

But I can’t. If I want to be taken seriously this season, I need to not let Shooter manipulate me with his body, no matter how much I crave it.

My lip tilts into a grin, his eyes tracking the movement, and I know he thinks I’m going to say yes. Hell, he’s probably never been denied in his life, looking the way he does. But instead, I press a hand to the center of his chest and whisper, “You wish,” before pushing him away and heading back to the fire.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow me.

8

Shooter Graham

We had our second rodeo last night, and I’m riding the high of winning both. A good fucking start to the season, if I do say so myself. It’s the morning after, and all of us are meeting for breakfast before we hit the road and head to our next location. I’m hungover as shit, my head pounding, appetite basically non-existent, but I know if I don’t eat anything now, I’ll be sick to my stomach all damn day.

I’m half-sitting, half-lying down in the back seat as Cope pulls into the diner. It’s a small place, one of those farm-to-table family-owned restaurants. We’ve eaten here every time we’ve stopped in this town because it’s so fucking good. Cope turns off the truck, and the three of us climb out. Glancing around the parking lot at our group, every last one of us looks half-dead after how hard we went last night.

The hostess seats us at a large table in the back room, bringing us coffees and waters, dropping menus off for us to peruse before leaving us be. I rub the heel of my palm into myeye socket until I see stars before pouring some cream and sugar into my coffee and taking a large swig.

“You look like shit, Shoot,” Daisy muses from across the table with a smirk.

A chuckle sounds from Sterling, who’s sitting right beside her, and I shoot daggers over to them, giving them both the finger. Much to my disdain, they’ve become quite cozy over the last few days, all buddy, buddy. I swear, Daisy has some sort of crush on him. Not that she’d ever tell me.

“Well, you always look like shit, sis, but I don’t call you on it,” I sneer.

She rolls her eyes, giving me the finger right back. We’re close enough in age that we get along and are at each other’s throats in equal measures. Both of us are competitive by nature—it’s in the Graham blood—so growing up, it was always about one-upping each other, seeing who could be better at this or that. It never went away as we got older, especially since both of us are in the rodeo circuit. Granted, for very different sports, but that doesn’t matter.

Boone and his daughter, Suzy, step into the back room, taking a seat at the head of the table, next to me. Suzy sits on Boone’s lap, her head rested on his shoulder, and based on the crater-sized dark bags under his eyes, I’d say he didn’t get much sleep last night.

Nodding at him, I murmur, “What’s up, man?”

“Not shit. Sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Suzy was up most of the night and finally fell asleep around four. Didn’t want to wake her.”

“No worries. Jade sleeping?”

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