Page 48 of Riding the Storm
That hand shouldn’t feel as good as it does. And I shouldn’t care, but I shoot her a victorious look as we pass.
She notices. I see the flicker in her expression—surprise and irritation—and it gives me a shameful sort of satisfaction.
When we reach the truck, I call, “Shotgun!” before anyone else can.
Because there’s no way in hell I’m sitting in the back seat, next to Bryce, again tonight. Not after that hallway.
Harleigh frowns at me. “You’d better make good song choices, woman.”
“How many times do I have to tell you women that you don’t mess with a man’s radio?” Cabe says as he opens the back door for her.
On the ride home, everyone’s loud except for me and Bryce. Harleigh and Shelby are bouncing around the back seat and singing at the top of their lungs while Cabe keeps yelling for them to keep their asses in their seats because he can’t see out his rearview mirror.
I stare out the window, watching the dark fields blur past, pretending I don’t feel Bryce’s presence behind me like a weight.
He’s silent too. Too silent.
It doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Why are you guys so quiet?” Shelby slurs from beside him in the back seat. “What, y’all have a fight or somethin’?”
I turn just enough to give her a look that says,Shut your mouth, or I’ll make you regret it.
She grins and holds up her hands. “All right, all right. Touchy.”
Just then, Harleigh plucks the cowboy hat off of his head from his other side. His eyes flicker to her as she places it on her head.
“Is it true, what they say about cowboys and their hats?”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“You know, that the girl who wears the hat rides the cowboy?”
I instantly turn and snatch the dark brown Resistol crown hat from her head and hand it back to him. “Leave him alone, Har.”
“What? I was just curious,” she says innocently.
“You were being a brat and trying to get a rise out of him,” I accuse before facing forward again, crossing my arms. I can feel Bryce’s eyes on the back of my head like a physical touch.
“You got a rise out of someone all right,” Shelby mumbles under her breath.
By the time we pull up the long drive to the ranch, I’m more exhausted than drunk. Cabe parks in front of the house, and everyone tumbles out, saying their good nights.
Bryce lingers near the tailgate as the girls drift toward the porch.
Harleigh’s already halfway up the steps, singing something off-key. Shelby backtracks and gives Bryce a quick hug good night, and Cabe claps him on the shoulder before heading in. I start to follow them when I feel him coming closer.
He stops just behind me. I can feel his breath against my neck.
“Sweet dreams, Chuck,” he says, low and rough, right against my ear.
I freeze.
He steps back before I can respond. Then he turns, heading down the path toward his cabin, boots crunching softly in the gravel.
I stand there for a long moment, watching him disappear into the darkness behind the house.
Only when he’s gone do I let out a shaky breath.
