Page 56 of Chasing the Wild
Bile forms in the back of my throat.
“No thanks.”
“You seemed happy enough to have a drink with Brett at his truck, surely it won’t hurt to do the same for me.”
All I can see is the outline of his head, but I can’t make out any features. It’s pitch black and the snow trickling down from the heavy skies overhead ensures there’s no moonlight to see by.
“Listen. I’m not interested.” I yank my elbow, but he tightens his grip.
“Come on, girlie. It’ll warm you up. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself much better once you’ve had a drink with me.”
Yeah, one that’s probably been roofied, judging by the way this guy is acting. I don’t really give a shit anymore if this is supposedly a friend of the other men here, I’d rather not stick around to see what he’s like when he’sreallyfriendly.
“I said, no,” I growl.
“Layla?” One of the other cowboys from earlier, whose voice I sort of recognize, comes up behind me. One part of me is relieved, while the other is spitting mad that this dickhead doesn’t have the word ‘no’ in his vocabulary, or understand its meaning.
That’s when I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
“Get up to the house, Layla.” Colt’s tone drips with cold aggression.
He’s disguised in the shadows when I turn toward the direction of his voice, but I can sense the tension rolling off him,bouncing between the sides of the vehicles we’re all crowded in between.
At first, I’m relieved as all hell when I hear his voice. Then as I tug my arm out of the dickhead’s grip and step back, I get slapped around by Colt’s next statement.
“You shouldn’t even fucking be down here. Let alone wandering around drunk in the dark.”
Excuse me?
My fists clench by my sides as I fight back the urge to start hurling insults at him.
He’s barking orders before my whiskey-soaked brain can come up with anything to say. “Grange, I’m gonna need you to go on up to the house and make sure Layla gets safely inside. If you so much as take a glance her way while you do so, you’ll be picking lead shot out of your balls for the foreseeable future, you understand?”
“Colt—” I don’t know what I want to try and say, but this feels like the moment back at the Loaded Hog when I danced with that guy all over again. Another scenario when I’m the one being chastised for something that isn’t my fault.
Grange—the only man in this situation who actually seems concerned for me—mutters something in agreement. I find myself stomping away, leaving the tense standoff without so much as a backward glance, with alcohol diluting my blood, using my phone as a flashlight.
“You don’t have to coddle me.” I snap as the man traipses after me, keeping a respectful distance.
“And risk the hell I’ll have at the hands of Wilder if I don’t do exactly as he asked? No, thank you.”
“He’s such a controlling asshole.” I grind my teeth. Talking to myself more than the man behind me. “I’m fine now, see?” I sneer as I slap a hand on the wooden railing, giving him anexaggerated bow to show that I’ve safely made it to the house as instructed.
“He might be that, but with good reason.” Grange gives me a sympathetic look, then dips his hat. “I’ll just wait here ’til you’re safely indoors, Miss Layla.”
“Fine.” My eye roll is unnecessary, but the whiskey and confrontation have jumbled me into a mess. Apparently, the way I’m choosing to handle this situation is to be petty.
As I stomp my way up the steps and head inside, making sure to lock the doors behind me, I sure as hell hope Colton Wilder doesn’t have a key to get in and ends up having to sleep out in the barn with the horses tonight.
I jolt awake.
A sickening clench in my gut makes itself known straight away, wondering if something startled me from sleep, or if I’ve woken up for no good reason at all. Lying still, I strain my ears for a hint of anything that might be the reason I find my heart fluttering madly in my throat.
The room around me is so dark I can’t see my hand in front of my face, yet it feels like it’s swimming a little all the same.
Events from the day before, and what happened immediately before I got into bed, come flooding into my mind. God, was it really only yesterday that I sat out on the porch with my coffee?
Not just that, but was it truly only one night ago that things escalated wildly out of control with the man whose house I’m sleeping in?
