Page 29 of The Brave and the Reckless

“Sidewalk rule,” he said.

I just blinked at him with raised brows. That had to be the most outdated crap I’d heard in a long time. As if he could somehow protect me if a car came barreling toward us, just because he was a big muscly manly man walking thirty inches closer to the street.

He sighed at my expression. “It’s just good manners. Like holding open a door or pulling out a chair.”

“Good manners, huh? And you keep calling me a princess.” I shook my head and narrowed my eyes at the dimly lit street before us. It was awfully quiet. My ears were still ringing from the saloon. My pulse still racing. “We should go skinny-dipping.”

“Esra,” he moaned, more exasperation in those four letters than I ever thought possible.

“Climb up on a hay bale,” I said, desperate for anything more fun than crawling into bed and scrolling on my phone. “Teach me how to ride a tractor. Uhm… line dance.”

“You want to learn how to line dance?” he asked.

“Well, what is it that you country boys do for fun, huh? Tip cows?”

He smirked. “Sure, let’s go tip some cows.”

“Really?” I turned on the sidewalk. Too fast. My ankle didn’t stop the spin, twisting too far. My vision was too blurry. I felt my leg give before I could stop it.

“No, not really,” Noah grunted as his hands wrapped around my waist, in the exact same spot they always did. He kept me upright. Except this time, his fingers dug into the naked skin between my jeans and my crop top. While any other man might have lingered, well-mannered Noah Young dropped his touch the second I was steady again.

Ugh. Boring.

“Shoot at cans?” I suggested. “Blow up heads of lettuce with fireworks?”

“Jesus,” he sighed and started walking again. “What kind of hillbilly redneck shit do you think we get up to here?”

“Well? What do you do for fun?” I asked.

He opened and closed his mouth. He furrowed his brow. For a minute or so, we walked in complete silence while his face scrunched up more and more with each step.

“Noah, do you havefun? Not just a little amusement. Actual fun?” I asked as we crossed on to the staff housing lot.

“Sure,” he replied stiffly and opened the door for me. “Time for bed, princess. Big day tomorrow.”

Ugh. Bed. I crinkled my nose at him. “Party pooper.”

“Buzzkill sun, killjoy moon, I know.”

Chapter Ten

COSTUME POLICY

Strap on your cowboy boots and step into the Old West. Guests of all ages are welcome to dress up and become a true citizen of Bravetown for the duration of their visit. No garb at home? Our clothiers and hat-makers will make sure you fit right in with the townsfolk.

Need to locate a member of staff? Look out for the pink or gold badge on their chest or around their neck.

Please read ourExtended Clothing Policys for notes on inappropriate attire.

NOAH

I’d told her.

This was beyond any common sense Sinan may have prescribed her.

I’d fucking told her.

My knuckles turned white around the handle of the kitchen cabinet as I stared at her latest bullshit. Instead of groceries, glasses of water lined my shelf, all of them filled to the brim. She hadn’t even put my stuff on her shelf. It was just gone. Replaced by water.

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