Page 55 of Chasing the Wild
The tack room is gleaming, the chicken’s coop has never looked better, and I’ve stacked wood like a woman possessed.
It was only once I knew I’d ticked off everything without a shadow of a doubt that I followed the smell of BBQ and woodsmoke to join the gathering. Colt can’t accuse me of not doing my job, and I’m certainly not going to sit up in that house all on my own.
The way I’ve worked today, I’ve earned a drink and some company to chat to. The generous second helping of whiskey I’ve poured myself is giving me a perfect glowy feeling all over.
All the while, as I sit here chatting with Brett and sip on my drink, I can feel his eyes on me. Even though I can’t see Coltthrough the darkness, I know he’s here, but he’s being too much of an asshole to approach me, or talk to me today.
We make small talk. Chatting about Brett’s life in Crimson Ridge. That he’s lived here, or thereabouts his whole life. I explain a little about myself, but in all honesty talking about my upbringing usually makes people uncomfortable, so I’m an expert at keeping on asking other people questions about themselves.
Deflecting attention is something I’ve grown accomplished in.
Shitty mom I cut out of my life and Aunt who raised me but has advanced dementia and doesn’t recognize me anymorearen’t usually the topics strangers want to get into while enjoying a few drinks and casual conversation. Plus, I kind of like getting to pretend my life isn’t a trainwreck. Certainly, up here at the ranch, it is easy toforget.
An orange glow throws enough light to illuminate the immediate circle around the bonfire. Other than that, it’s all heavy shadows and silhouettes, making it impossible to see anyone’s faces as we gather out here in the snow.
Eyelids drooping, limbs growing heavy, Brett’s voice cuts through my daydream.
“You all good there, Layla?”
God, this drink is hitting me hard and that’s when I scrunch my brows with realization. I’ve been so determined to work my ass off, I haven’t eaten anything all day. Between the lack of sleep, full day of work, and freezing cold, I’m more of a lightweight than usual.
Actually, I’m probably way more drunk than I intended to be.
“Yeah, I’ll be back in a sec. Gonna grab a bite to eat.” I hop off the tailgate and figure I’ll fix myself some food up at the house.
I’m sure there are some leftovers to toss in the microwave, that’ll soak some of this liquor up nicely. Besides, as much as ithas been nice chatting and all, the man I would really love to be snuggled up next to in the flatbed of a truck won’t come near me.
Everyone’s vehicles are parked in a circular pattern spread out around the fire, so I weave my way between a couple of them. Just as I wander between the two parked furthest from the fire, I sense a figure up ahead in the darkness.
A waft of stale cigarette smoke hits me, and my stomach sours.
Whoever this is, he’s blocking the way, and I’m either going to have to squeeze past or double back on myself.
The way he just stands there makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Layla, isn’t it?” The shadowy outline of the man readjusts his stance, leaning up against the passenger door.
“Uh. Hi.” I don’t want to be rude in case this is one of Colt’s friends, but it feels weird that he’s over here hanging around alone. Maybe he’s just taking a piss.
“Headed off by yourself in the dark?”
Something in this man’s energy is setting off alarm bells in my tipsy brain.
“Nowhere, I was just—” I go to step backward, but he closes the distance like a viper. His hand wraps around my elbow.
“Ah, no need to run off, now.”
I donotwant this man touching me.
“Take your hand off me, please.” I try to keep my voice calm. Years of dealing with drunks in the bars I’ve worked at kicks in on reflex. Just be firm with them, but not dramatic. Don’t provoke them, but stand your ground. Remove yourself as safely as possible. The bartender’s handbook for dealing with grubby men who think that because they’re at a strip club, it means they can lay hands on the women working there.
Right now, I don’t have a burly bouncer to intervene. Not that they ever paid too much attention to the lowly barbacks,they were mostly far too focused on the girls working the stage or the customers on the main floor.
“Don’t be like that, we’re just talking.”
“No. You’re talking, and I’m leaving.”
“Why don’t you have a drink with me over here?”
