Byron clears his throat and turns Ronnie in the direction of the playground. “We’ll just leave you two alone.”
I watch them go as Colton fumes next to me. He’s absently snapping something on his wrist. My eyes narrow on what looks like an elastic band. It’s pink and braided, fraying from age. Weird. But his strange habits aren’t my biggest issue at the moment.
“You’re ruining my good mood,” I tell him.
“Bianca,” he growls. “Cut the shit.”
“You first.”
“Just tell me what that woman said to you.”
My exhale is done with his bossy attitude. “She offered to whisk me away for a few days or longer. The timeline was a bit fuzzy.”
“You better be fucking joking.”
“Seemed pretty serious to me.” Not that I’d ever agree to go along with them, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Stay away from her.”
“Ditto.”
“Don’t even know who she is.”
“The notches on your bedpost are that insignificant, hmm?”
Colton moves with lethal speed, trapping me against the stall at my back. His breath mingles with mine when he leans in. “None of them are worth counting.”
My chest bumps his with my next labored breath. “Why not?”
“They aren’t you.”
Me:You sure about this?
Brody: Do what you gotta do.
Me: She’s gonna be pissed.
Brody: Since when has that stopped you?
The sinking sensation in my gut dips lower while I read over our recent text exchange. Bianca might actually end my life after I pull this stunt, but it’s necessary. My father didn’t bother to wait a week before sending someone else to hassle her.
That bad choice forces me to take more extreme measures.
I lift my gaze from the phone screen. Bianca is leaning against one of the many trucks her family owns. The tight jeans she’s wearing are meant to test my control, especially when her left hip is cocked in defiance. Pieces of her brown hair lightly flutter in the breeze like a contradiction. My confession at Camp Cloverleaf teases the distance between us, daring me to cross the line with more than flimsy words. Her eyes narrow into fiery slits as I continue to stare.
“Let me guess,” she mutters. “My brother put his foot down.”
I nod. It isn’t a question that needs verbal confirmation.
Her pert nose crinkles. “Why can’t Paisley come instead? We’ve hauled our horses all across the Midwest and didn’t need a chaperone.”
My flat stare provides a thorough explanation. “You’re stuck with me, Princess.”
She tucks her arms tight across her chest. “Fantastic.”
“And I’ll drive.”
“Fine by me.”
