Page 13 of Filthy, Dirty, Cowboy

Fuck that. We need to talk about this. I step forward. “I’ll give you a ride back.”

“No. You’ve done enough already,” she quips, holding her arms over her chest as she slides closer to John to let Waylon in.

I know I should be a good man. The kind of man that lets the girl do whatever it is she deems best. And with the best of intentions, that’s what I want to be. But something about the way that asshole smirks at me when she glides closer rolls over my body like a heavy storm. Without warning, I’m pulling him from the truck like a fucking tornado.

Portia screams, but I can’t stop punching him. I want him to pay for what he’s done. I want him to know what a piece of shit he is.

“You like fucking hitting women? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Again, I’ve said the wrong thing.

With my hands on his collar and his mouth bleeding profusely, he stares up at Portia. “You’re fired.”

At this point, Waylon pulls me off John and helps him up from the ground as though he’s worth being saved. I don’t see it. I think maybe I should be left alone with this ass and whatever happens, happens.

But I know regardless of what I feel, Portia is pissed. This is what she was afraid of… and it’s my fault.

I glance back toward her. My heart pounds against my chest, my jaw hurts from grinding my teeth, and there’s a roaring in my ears I can’t stop. I’m out of control. The dude is an asshole, and he deserves to pay, but I shouldn’t have acted like I knew best.

Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me?

Portia steps toward me, tears streaming down her face. “Whatever happened tonight was a huge mistake. Don’t talk to me again,” she turns away, “ever.”

Chapter Seven

Portia

“I think it’s hot as fuck that he hit him for you. Men don’t do that shit anymore.” My sister has been ranting about how great Hawk is for the better part of an hour. “I mean, Tucker wouldn’t kill a spider for me. Do you know one time a man came up to me at the park and told me how pretty I was ‘for a fat girl’and he just stared at him.” She pauses dramatically. “Stared!That’s it. I mean, you’ve only known Hawk for less than what, three days all together, and he’s kicking asses for you. Ugh… why can’t I find a man like that?” She sinks into the couch and stares up at the ceiling. “Call him back, please. At least let me live vicariously through you. It’ll give me hope.”

I shove the third chocolate frosted cupcake of the night into my mouth and sigh loud enough that I’m worried I’ve woken the kids. “Fighting someone isn’t sexy. It’s barbaric, and he cost me my job! How am I going to make rent, buy food, or do all the things I went to college to do? I have student loans to pay for and—”

“You weren’t even happy at the job. You were staying because you felt trapped by a guy that was treating you like shit.” She sits up and twists her ponytail to the side of her shoulder. “Hawk did you a favor. You should call him and thank him.”

I balk at her statement. “No. A favor implies I wanted what he gave me. I didn’t.”

She shakes her head and chews on her bottom lip for a long while. I know she’s paused again for dramatic effect, but I’m over it all. I’m ready to go home, feed my cat, sit on the couch, and start sending resumes. That doesn’t stop my sister from starting again.

“What did you feel when you were with him? Before he defended your honor?”

My eyes roll back in my head. I want to argue with her on the‘defending my honor’part, but I hold back in hopes of ending this conversation sooner.

“We fought and bickered most of the time we talked. The only time we got along was for an hour on the back of his truck. And half that time, we were fucking around. I hardly see how that counts.” Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. Hawk’s hands on my skin felt like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He’s big and strong. Rough and calloused. And though there was wild in his eyes, he was gentle with me.

My clit throbs thinking about him, so I quickly change the subject.

“Where am I going to find work? I’ve been looking in the city for months. No one is calling back.”

Bree twists her hair to the side and glances up at me with the same look she had when she wanted to start trouble as kids. “Do you remember when we were little, you’d talk about wanting your own ice cream shop? You used to say how fun it would be to let everyone sample flavors and—”

“That wasn’t me. That was you,” I laugh.

“Right,” she says with a grin. “Well, there’s a shop space open on Main Street here. I have the capital to invest, or at least I will once the divorce is final. The only problem is I don’t have a business mind. I need someone to manage the shop so I can do the fun parts.”

“Here? No. You’re kidding. You can’t move here. What about Tucker and the girls?”

“When I told him we were coming out here for the weekend, he waved me off and wished me luck. Apparently, he’s moving to Canada.”

“Canada?”

“Canada.” She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ask questions. The kids will be better without him, anyway.” She leans in as though she’s about to pitch her big idea. “Really, though, we could run the shop together, find big, rugged men to love, and make people smile with ice cream and sprinkles.”

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