Page 83 of Ace of Spades
If there was one thing to note about my mom, it was that she meant every word that came out of her mouth. If she invited you over, she wanted to see you—and if she gave you the time of day, it’s because she saw something in you that she respected. She was a no-bullshit type of woman like that.
“Hailey here is settling in real well,” I tell her. “Just last week she took in a baby raccoon. Isn’t that right, Sorrels?”
Hailey rolls her eyes at me, the tension from earlier rolling off of her as she tells my mom all about Poncho. Not only had she actually taken in the damn raccoon, but she had somehow convinced me to keep him in the house. Given, she was very persuasive when her lips were wrapped around my cock.
“His name is Poncho, and he’s absolutely adorable,” Hailey tells my mom. “We found him hiding in the stables, and we thought his mom might come back to get him, but the ranch vet said he was severely underfed and not doing too well. It was pretty obvious the poor baby had been abandoned.”
Oh, yeah—that. As if the entire thing wasn’t bad enough, she had convinced me to call the ranch’s on-call vet to come take a look at it. A damnraccoon.
“He’s the cutest,” Kota adds.
“How are the dogs liking him?” my mom asks.
“They can’t seem to tell the difference between a baby raccoon and a puppy—they love him. I think Poncho sees them as big raccoons. That, or he sees himself as a tiny dog, but either way, they seem to all be getting along just great,” Hailey explains.
“Awe, like a happy little family,” Mom gushes, and I can feel the exact moment that Hailey’s walls slowly build back up, brick by brick.
An upbeat country song plays over the deck speakers, and I watch as Hailey’s face lights up.
“I love this song,” Kota beams, grabbing Hailey by the hand. “Let’s go dance!”
She drags Hailey out to the dancefloor, and I can’t help but feel envious of my little sister as the two of them spin around in the summer air, Beau and Chelsea joining them out on the make-shift dance floor, followed by Mike and Rhonda.
I lean back against the railing, bringing my cold beer to my lips as I watch two of my favorite ladies giggling as they twirl each other around, feeling oddly possessive over someone that isn’t even technically mine as I watch eyes from all around latch onto her.
Everybody around town knows better than to look twice at Kota, knowing damn well that not only would I be coming after them, but I’d have my three best friends at my back. Sorrels, however? I guess the memo hadn’t gotten around that she was off-limits.
“Wanna dance?” Kelly asks, her manicured hand landing on my forearm.
“Nah,” I tell her, walking the few steps towards Chance where he plays cornhole instead.
“Come on,” I tell him, tilting my head towards the center of the dance floor where the two prettiest girls here danced. He understands the assignment immediately, tossing down the bean bags as we make our way over.
Hailey is mid-spin when I steal her from Dakota, a startled expression on her face as I pull her into me, taking her hand in mine. My hand wraps around her waist, the material of her dress soft under my palm.
Kota looks at me with a scold, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she turns to walk away, not getting far beforeChance steals her hand and spins her into him. Her face lights back up as he twirls her around next to us.
“What are you doing?” Hailey asks in a hushed tone, looking around at the partygoers who are now all turning their attention our way.
“Can’t I steal a dance from a pretty lady on my birthday?”
“But why is everybody staring at us?”
“Because normally, you’d have better luck wrangling a tutu onto a buckin’ bull than getting this guy out on the dancefloor,” Chance laughs from beside us.
“Is that right?” Hailey looks up at me, a glint in her eye as the corner of her mouth pulls up.
“Dancing isn’t really my thing,” I admit.
“Oh yeah?” she asks, a playful grin dancing across her lips. “Then what changed?”
The fact that it’s you that I’m dancing with.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, because that’s the truth. I don’t know when, or how, but things changed. There hadn’t ever been a time that I’d felt the need—let alone the want—to scoop a girl off the dancefloor. I’d never felt possessive or territorial over a woman, so why now all of a sudden?
She must see something shift in my expression because her eyes soften.
“Well, I’m honored,” she tells me, letting her hand fall to my shoulder, her body melting into mine as we sway to the music.
