Page 56 of Stirring Up Trouble
Their visit, along with the night I found him hanging out with Sylmen, changed the dynamic we had. It further solidified things. I could see my boy relaxing more and settling into a life with me. He hadn't said he was going to stay or asked about our plans for the future.
And while I could wait until the last minute like I wanted to do to avoid any confrontation, I couldn't risk him thinking anything bad about my feelings.
When lunchtime rolled around, I stalked off to try to find my boy. Instead, I found something I really didn't want.
Jacob Cooksey, my former stepfather, was standing talking to a young woman who very obviously wanted to get away from him. Her body was turned, and her eyes scanned the crowd as if hoping someone could save her from his attention.
The asshole had to be twice her age since she was a baby-faced little thing who probably came out to the rodeo to have a good time. She didn't need this jerk bothering her.
I resigned myself to having to fix the issue.
Mostly it was resignation at having to deal with him at all. I could have gone the rest of my life without being in touch with the man.
Yes, he left the ranch hanging without any type of warning, but worse than that, he had tried to desecrate my family name. That bullshit wouldn't stand anymore.
I approached and slid into the space between him and the young woman. Keeping my gaze on him, I told her, "Run along, sweetheart. I need to have a word with him."
Jacob smirked as he watched her sprint away from us. “Now why are you getting involved in my business?”
I stared him down, noting all the changes since I’d last seen him. While I used to think of him as a big, powerful man, I could see the spinelessness behind him now. I could see how dead his eyes were and how the muscle tone that I once thought fierce had withered and fallen away.
Since he'd left the ranch, he must have been through a rough patch. He wasn't thriving. It definitely explained why he would show his face anywhere near the people that he'd hurt before.
"What are you doing here, Jacob?" I said.
He raised his brows. “I never knew we were on a first name basis there, Blaze. I'm still your stepfather.”
I scoffed. "No, you're not. I don't give a shit what legalities you want to try to pull, but you are nothing to me other than a stain in my past I'd rather not think about. Why the hell are you here when you know you're not welcome?"
His brows dipped. "What the hell do you mean I'm not welcome? I can go anywhere I please."
I shook my head as my hands moved to my hips. "Maybe anywhere else, but you hurt this county. Hurt these people. Tried to destroy my family's name and legacy of our ranch. Then you hightailed it out of town when none of your plans worked. Do you think you could just waltz in here and it would all be fine?"
“Now you listen here. Everything you have is because of me. None of these people want to work with you. Just look around. You’re a fraud standing with them.”
His lip curled, and I could tell he was getting ready to deliver his final blow.
“Who in their right mind would trust a —”
Before he could finish his words, he jerked back. I looked down to see his chest lit up with a neon yellow splatter of paint. As he stood there, more appeared, forcing him to step furtheraway. He put his hands up to cover his face while I looked for the culprit.
"What the fuck?"
My confusion turned to awe when I saw my boy marching forward, paint gun in hand.
"Baby?" I asked, my voice full of questions.
He skipped the rest of the way, then wrapped his arm around my waist. Tipping his head back, he asked for a kiss, which I gave easily.
Tapping my finger against the barrel of the paintball gun, I asked again, this time using my words, "You want to tell me what this is about?"
He shrugged, turning to look at Jacob, who was watching us with wide eyes. "Well, you see, I was on my way to find you for lunch. I was walking with Corny."
I growled at the mention of the ranch hand who had been flirting with him.
He smacked my chest lightly. "It's fine, Blaze. He was just trying to help me navigate. He knows not to touch what's yours. But as I was saying, Corny was leading me here, and he froze when he saw this fellow.”
He pointed his paintball gun at Jacob again, who held up his hands once more, like it was a real weapon. I knew his chest had to hurt because when you didn't wear any type of padding, a paintball was sure to leave a bruise. And Jacob was pale enough it was going to create a mess of his chest under that shirt.
