Page 199 of Roulette Rodeo
Poppy's face crumples again, fresh tears threatening, but she nods. "Okay. I'll visit in the morning." She turns to me, gripping my hands carefully. "I'll bring you good food from the bakery. Those maple donuts you love. And special breakfast from Duke—the restaurant Duke, not the dog Duke, though I'm sure dog Duke would bring you breakfast if he could carry it."
"I'm seriously fine," I assure her, squeezing her hands back. "Minor concussion from the fall, some smoke inhalation that makes me sound like I've been chain-smoking for forty years, but other than that, I'm legitimately okay. So no more tears, alright?"
She sobs anyway, mascara Rivers gaining new tributaries. "I really thought you were a goner. When they pulled you out of that hole, you were so still, and there was blood, and?—"
"Me too," I admit with a laugh that's only slightly hysterical. "But I guess heaven rejected me. Too badass for such a typical novel ending." I gesture wildly, nearly pulling out my IV before remembering it's attached. "Like, female main character diestragically in fire after saving her pack of sexy muscular men and doesn't even get to enjoy a pack orgy? The audacity! What kind of unsatisfying ending is that?"
Poppy bursts into laughter through her tears. "SEE! I told you the universe was gonna play in your face if you don't ride those men like you did that mechanical bull! The cosmic forces demand satisfaction!"
I groan, sinking back into the uncomfortable hospital pillows. "Yes, yes, you were right. Bite me. Now let me hurry up and heal so I can take turns with my men bucking me up, down, sideways, and upside down. Maybe simultaneously if we get creative with the positioning."
"That's the spirit!" She claps her hands together. "Though I'm not sure the physics of simultaneously?—"
"We'll figure it out," I say with confidence I don't entirely feel. "There are four of them. We'll make it work."
Malrik pushes himself up from the floor, brushing off his jeans with exaggerated dignity. "Well, since you're officially on medical leave from the gym—paid leave, by the way, because I'm not a monster—you've got plenty of time for your sexual physics experiments."
"You're making me sound like a prostitute," I complain, but I'm grinning. "Now skidaddle before the nurse comes back with security."
He laughs, moving to give me a careful hug that avoids all the medical equipment. "I'm really glad you're okay, Red. What you did was brave as fuck—pulling four grown men out of a burning building? That's superhero-level shit. But never, ever do something that stupid again."
"Well, hopefully they don't get drugged and have their barn burned down at this point," I say, trying for levity but hearing the edge in my own voice. "Though apparently small towns have a weirdly high fire risk considering you all have fire departmentstwo towns over. Speaking of which..." I turn to Poppy. "Why the hell was Briar with the fire department? How is she even here?"
Poppy's grin turns wicked, the kind that usually precedes the best gossip. "Oh honey, you're gonna love this. So apparently, our dear Briar has a talent for cards—shocking, I know—and there's this fire chief from the department two towns over who has a nasty gambling addiction."
"No," I breathe, already seeing where this is going.
"Yes," she confirms with glee. "He thought he could win big at some underground game, put Briar up as collateral because he's a piece of shit who thinks omegas are property, and then?—"
"Lost," I finish, horror and awe battling for dominance. "He lost her to the fire department?"
"Won her," Poppy corrects with finger quotes. "Which apparently means she's 'with' the whole damn department now. All twelve of them."
My jaw drops, and I feel the heart monitor spike slightly. "Wait. WAIT. She's fucking the whole department?!"
Poppy whistles low and appreciative. "Girl, I didn't know your best friend who saved your ass could round up an army of sexy, fit firemen to bow to her command, but damn." She fans herself dramatically. "This small town's going to need that fire station to move right into Jackknife Ridge because I think that's gonna attract us some serious alpha talent. Hot firefighters everywhere? Sign me up for whatever building's burning next."
"How about no," Malrik groans, but he's fighting a smile. "I'm good with just you for now. Don't need you running off with some helmet-wearing hero who actually knows how to use his hose."
"Aww, aren't you sweet!" Poppy coos, linking her arm through his. "Let's go fuck now that I know my bestie is alive and I don't have to do my own crime detective investigation like some horror thriller author."
She pauses at the door, eyes lighting up with that manic energy that means she's had An Idea.
"Actually! I'm gonna write this whole thing as a book! Call it 'Crimson Roulette'—the spicy, steamy cowboy romance! Oh, and it has to be cozy too because it's fall season. The perfect balance of sweet autumn vibes and complete mayhem. Maybe throw in some pumpkin spice lattes and murder. Readers eat that shit up."
I groan, pulling a pillow over my face. "Please don't write a book about my madness of a life. No one would believe it anyway."
"Are you kidding? Omega auction, fake cowboys who are actually real cowboys, underground fighting rings, casino escapes, mechanical bull riding in body glitter, and a dramatic fire rescue? This writes itself! I'll make millions!"
"At least change the names," I beg through the pillow.
"Obviously. You'll be... Scarlett. And the pack can be the... Fortunate Spades? No, wait, the Lucky Diamond crew!"
"That's worse," Malrik informs her. "So much worse."
"I'm a creative genius in progress," she defends. "Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither are bestselling romance novels. Though I bet I could knock out the first draft in a week if I'm properly motivated." She waggles her eyebrows at Malrik. "Want to help me with research for the sex scenes?"
"Out," the nurse says firmly from the doorway, clearly having reached her patience limit. "Both of you. Now."
