Page 6 of Easy Rider
Ryder nods at the guys leaning on the railing. I see his dimples when he grins and bends down to gently pat the horse’s neck.
Lord, did I want to kiss him last night. But even if my dad’s deal wasn’t on the line, I wouldn’t risk getting crushed again. I have the tendency to get all wrapped up with the wrong person, most notably the man I was engaged to for three years. I haven’t had the confidence to date anyone since that night with Ryder.
The three cowboys ease themselves off the railing, and Ryder dismounts. The man in the white hat opens the corral gate as Ryder leads the horse out of the ring and walks him to the stables.
While Ryder’s preoccupied, I take the chance to move the car. Slowly, so I don’t kick up the dust, I drive past a large open barn filled with cattle. I start to make a left at the same time as a beige truck comes out of nowhere and stops close to my right front bumper. I hit the brakes.
He’s less than a foot away. There’s plenty of room around me. What is this guy doing?
I scrutinize the driver.
Unflinching, cold, beady eyes stare back.
And an icy tingle creeps from the nape of my neck down my spine. Shit. Cletus Johnson is behind the wheel. His brother Buck, who’s just as much of an asshole, is in the truck next to him. They both make no bones about staring me down. Cletus unleashes a sinister grin, and the pretty blue sky around me turns dark and threatening.
My heart races, one hammering beat away from panic mode. Is this payback for throwing the chair last night?
My first instinct is to crank the wheel, hit the gas, and jam. But before I do, Cletus backs up his truck. Fool won’t stop staring. Finally, he puts it in drive. Cletus’s angry ugly face rolls past my passenger side at a snail’s pace. Then he heads out the same way I came in.
I gulp a breath and watch their tail in the rearview, half expecting them to turn around and—who knows what. I’m white-knuckling the wheel, ready to react, but they keep driving. I turn and look out the back window, keeping an eye on the truck until it’s off the ranch and back on the main road.
Whew.Crap. If they wanted to rattle me, they did. I’m not sure what to do now. Should I call the sheriff? He’ll take forever to get here, and I might be pulling him away from a life-or-death situation. The only incident I have to report is someone giving me a nasty look.
I take a few deep breaths and talk myself into calming down.Nothing happened. They’re gone. I’m fine.
After a few minutes, I continue on the path and park in front of a small white trailer. Mr. Lutton’s Rover is parked nearby.
This is it. I don’t have time to worry about the Johnsons.
I’m wearing a new dress for good luck. It’s not anything fancy, but it’s a cute red shirt-dress. I left the top two buttons undone, but it’s conservative. I’m not showing any cleavage. The dress hits me just below mid-thigh and looks good with my tan and boots.
I take a deep breath and roll the windows back up.Let’s do this.
Chapter Four
“Emma Lockhart,” StewLutton booms. “Leave the door open, sugar. I like the breeze.” He’s a big man, six feet something, wearing a blue plaid shirt with the buttons popping at his belly. He lumbers unsteadily out from behind a desk stacked with papers and shakes my hand. Mr. Lutton has a full head of white hair, but he isn’t very old. He’s around my dad’s age, sixty-five. He’s too young to be having such a problem walking.
