Page 44 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Of course, he does.
He looks at the smoky gray plastic dart, blending into the muted tones of his plaid shirt. Then his head tilts. His hat tips just enough to show the long, stern scathing gaze he casts my way. Then his lips twitch like he’s on the edge of saying something.
I deserve it.
But he swallows it down, his jaw tight, and turns, stalking through the main room. His boots thud heavily on the floor in sync with my beating heart. I can’t pull away from watching his solid, muscled back moving through the crowd like the people are barely an obstacle. In a few heartbeats, he disappears down the hallway.
Good.
Good riddance to him. He deserves more than a dart piercing his skin and the itsy-bitsy lil’ infection it might bring. An infection that could spread through his blood, slowly killing him. Because the germs on the tip of that dart, handled by ranchers, bikers, and everyone in between, could be deadly.
Actually deadly.
Well, tie me to an anthill and smear me with honey.
The general manager in me ramps up, realizing he needs to clean the wound, disinfect it, and wrap it up.
My legs move, even though I don’t want them to. Because, as much as I hate Hart, I don’t want him dead on my watch.
But the bleeding is fine.
Maybe I’ll even slap the wound.
“Oh no, you don’t.” The deep voice behind me makes me jump, and an arm slides around my waist.
It’s Vin, the big, burly biker I was having a good time with until Hart barged into my thoughts.
And truthfully, as much as I want to pretend otherwise, I’m just not the kind of woman who sleeps with a guy just because he’s hot—which Vin is. Even knowing he’d make it rough in all the right ways.
“Come over here.” He’s already well into drunk territory and leaning close like the outcomes have already been decided.
I shift. “Uh, I’ve got to—”
His fingers dig into my hip, a little too tight, and a little too controlling.
“Where you going, sweetheart?” The way he says it makes my pulse spike, and not in a good way.
His blonde sidekick, Trish, rubs against my other side, and I jump again.
Where did she come from?
“The night’s young,” she purrs in my ear before moving to Vin’s other side.
I’m not getting tangled up in whatever this is.
I slip out of his grasp. “I’ve gotta go.”
He looks disappointed, raking his gaze over my body. “C’mon, don’t be like that.” He scoops Trish against his side. “We could have a good time.”
I take a step back, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m flattered, but I’m going to sit this one out.”
I try to keep my cool as I turn on my boot heel and bolt. I secretly pray he doesn’t follow and forgets about me altogether. It’s easy, ask Hart. He forgot about me faster than the blink of an eye.
In the back hallway, I spot the first aid kit still hanging between the ladies’ and men’s bathrooms, which means Hart isn’t cleaning the puncture.
Figures. What a macho idiot cowboy.
My fingers brush the cold metal box as I pry it from the wall and step inside the men’s.
