Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (20 page)

My mom knew it and, being the compassionate woman she is, made me a bowl of Cocoa Puffs as a consolation prize. Sweet, but it wasn’t the same. Likewise with Denver, from what I’d seen, Denver was my shot at a rich, decadent fudge-covered brownie, making everyone else look like soggy Cocoa Puffs—diluted … processed.

My attention is drawn from the playful group to Maggie and Pete making their way back up to the platform. I decide to quit pouting like a little boy who just had his brownies snatched away and swim back over to our group.

Pete really does have to instruct Maggie on how to swing from the rope. Denver shouts up her support before Maggie plummets toward the creek. Her blood-curdling scream is likely heard for miles. She literally screams until she hits the water, and I find myself hoping she closed her mouth in time.

I start small strokes to move in closer in case she needs help, but she pops up, laughing and talking simultaneously. “That was amazing!” she yells at Denver.

“Told ya,” Denver agrees.

Pete shouts, “Baby, you did good,” before he gathers the rope and swings out after her.

Eventually, pretty much the rest of the team makes it out to the creek. Today had been a long practice since we were getting ready to begin our season next week, and we were deserving of an afternoon of tallboys and swimming. Retrieving our ice chests from the trucks, we make a small campfire to roast some hotdogs. When the sun sets, everybody gets changed real quick into hoodies and jackets and jeans. Montana is no joke when it comes to changing temperature.

After we eat, we all stretch out around the campfire on our blankets. Talk turns to rodeo as usual, and the guys and I shoot the shit about the competition. When I hear Denver talking to the other barrel racers, I get quiet and tune in to what she has to say.

She’s stretched out, talking about technique. The girls are complimenting her on her speed and accuracy. She downplays it for a minute until she realizes they’re sincere. Her brow furrows, her eyes taking on a distant look. I can tell from the way her body has frozen that she doesn’t receive many compliments and is struggling with accepting them.

She finally murmurs a, “Thanks, y’all,” to Lauren and Stephanie. They ask her if she has any tips for them. Then she does something else that gets my attention and my admiration, and I see another hue of her colorful personality. “Well, one thing I noticed that you can work on, Stephanie, is your feet. You keep your feet flat when really you should be digging in with your heels. You can gain a couple of tenths by being able to spur your horse quicker. When you waste time turning your feet, it shows up on the clock.”

“What about me, Denver?” Lauren asks, “You see anything I can work on?”

Denver sits up and pushes her hair over her shoulders, seeming to warm to the discussion. “I noticed something, but it’s actually something we all need to work on and that’s keeping that barrel positioned behind our leg when we make those turns. If your horse’s shoulder is at the barrel, which I saw a bunch of today, he gets spooked ‘cause his peripheral is screwed and will throw his hip out. When he does that, his butt end springs out. Once he’s out of alignment, he either knocks over a barrel, getting five seconds added to your time, or adjusts himself by stopping before cutting in, which again wastes valuable seconds. You’ve got to keep your eye trained on your back cinch to prevent that, which boils down to trusting your horse with his front end. That’s what he’s trained to do, though, so you’re in good hands.”

Hearing her talk confidently like that is like dousing lighter fluid on the smoldering heat she’s been stoking in me all week. And, holy hell, is it hot. Just one more thing that adds up to her being unbelievably perfect for me.

She can’t be that strong, that intuitive, that intelligent, that willing to help her competition,
and
be a girl who allows herself to be used, can she? That just doesn’t match up. My instincts scream that I am right about her, and leaves no doubt that I have to find out for myself.

Abruptly, like she can read my thoughts from across the fire, her honeyed eyes meet mine, locking on them, and that stinging bite that starts at the base of my spine and works its way up—the contradicting, yet perfect, combination of fear and confidence I get when I’m about to take on the beast—makes itself known.

Pete slings his arm around my shoulder. He claps me on the shoulder, awakening me from the spell she cast over me. “Bro, you been quiet all day.”

“Always am.”

“Nah, you’re quieter than usual. What’s up?”

“Nothing, man. It’s all good,” I say, taking a pull from my beer.

“You hurtin’?”

I laugh once. “Yeah, but no more than usual. None of us are sitting here pain-free.”

“True.”

My attention is drawn to Denver again as she heads up the trail to the vehicles. I glance over to see Greer engaged in conversation with the other ropers and decide to go see about her.

“I’ll be back,” I tell Pete.

Pete’s gaze has followed mine. “What are you doing, Ransom?”

“Going to see about a girl.”

He glances over to Greer. “Greer’s a good guy, and any fool could see he’s in fucking love with Denver. Sounds messy.”

“Would you have held back from pursuing Maggie just because someone else had feelings for her?”

His eyes find her across the campfire. He doesn’t answer me, though. He just gets up and moves behind her, sliding his legs around hers and pulling her back to his chest. She turns her face up to his, and he captures her lips hungrily.

“That’s what I thought,” I mock with a laugh and a decisive nod. He raises one hand very slowly and flips me the bird.

Chapter Sixteen

Denver

L
OWERING MY TAILGATE
, I hoist my ass up on it and lie back, exhaling like I just ran a marathon. Looking up at the stars, I laugh at myself and my cosmic joke of a life. Who the fuck gets teary-eyed and overwhelmed when people are nice to her? It’s not like I wanted those high school assholes to be friends with me ‘cause, obviously, they’re assholes. But it had sucked not having anyone besides Greer all those years. You always need at least one back-up friend. I swipe a wrist across my eyes before my body actually resorts to shedding tears. God, I’m such a loser.

The truck sinks as someone slides next to me. I turn my head to see who’s joined me, only to meet clear, green eyes gazing back at me, practically daring me to say something about his brazenness.

“Hi,” he whispers with a smile. “Whatcha doing?” A playful Ransom? That throws me off-guard.

“Lying here cursing the cosmos for being such a loser,” I whisper back before I can stop myself.

His brows shoot up as he sucks a breath through his teeth, and my mouth widens into a smile. I can practically smell the sarcasm rolling off of him. “Yeah … I didn’t want to mention it before, since we haven’t known each other long, but I did notice that you were of the loserish variety.”

“Well, thanks for not harassing me about it,” I laugh.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re the biggest loser I’ve ever met.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it now. Give it to me straight. I can take it.”

He folds his arms behind his head and turns his head to the stars. “Well, there’s the fact that you are, without a doubt, the worst barrel racer in the world. I’ve never seen anyone who is as mean to her animals as you. I heard you were really dumb too. Oh, and let’s not forget how disgusting you look in a bikini. Did I leave anything out?”

“Nope, I think that about covers it,” I murmur.

“Ah, wait,” he muses. “I forgot a few things.”

“Well, let’s have ‘em,” I mutter.

He rolls and comes up on his folded arm, resting his face in his palm. His face must be a foot away from mine, but it feels like an inch. His scent hits me full force—fresh like the water we swam in, strong like the kind of man he is, and absolutely unique. I focus on those scars again and find myself wondering about him. What makes him tick? What drives him? I have this insane urge to discover everything that makes him—him.

“Everything I just said?” I’m drawn back to those reflective depths.

“Yeah?”

“The opposite—you’re the best barrel racer, the kindest horsewoman, the most intelligent, the sexiest.” His fingers move to play with the wildly mused hair resting on my shoulder. I have to swallow hard before I can speak.

“You don’t even know me.”

“Call it a hunch,” he says with a shrug. “I have excellent instincts. But I do have the strangest desire to know everything about you.”

He’s just like Greer in that regard—only sees what he wants to see in me, or more like, what I want them to see. Even though his instincts are off about me, I’m dying to know if his other instincts are as excellent as he claims. I need to know that just like I need to know everything … about
him
.

The slut in me wants to start with his lips. I make the mistake of dropping my gaze to his mouth. His bottom lip is thick and full while his top is a little less so. I have the strangest craving for him, for those lips. How can you crave something you’ve never tasted? My tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip as I imagine sitting up and testing the softness of him. Would he be salty, sweet, spicy?

I prop myself up slightly on one elbow. My hand reaches up and flattens itself on his neck, my fingertips running over the collar of his shirt. Those full lips curve into a small, inviting smile. My mouth reciprocates. I can feel my eyes shining with unshed tears, and now excitement, so I seek out his to see where he stands. They’re brighter and more alive than ever.

Blue eyes flash through my mind like the blinding lights from a police cruiser. I’ve caught myself red-handed. My smile falls, and the hand that was touching him experimentally, now pushes him away. I sit up quickly, an apology on my tongue.

“Uh, I’m so sorry, Ransom. I, uh—”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too, but only because you didn’t follow through. I’m not gonna beat around the bush, Denver. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you, but more than that, I’d like to get to know you.”

“Umm … Greer,” is all I can mutter.

His brow pulls together. “I thought you said you weren’t together.”

“Well, we’re not technically, but I told him I’d consider it. I don’t think it’d be cool for me to run around kissing other guys while I’m supposed to be giving him a fair shot.”

His eyes zero in on me like he’s trying to piece together all parts of the puzzle.
Good luck with that, buddy.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say anyone who has to be ‘considered’ is probably not the best option.” Massaging his shoulder with his palm, he confesses, “I’m also gonna say that just being around you makes me feel more alive than I’ve felt in a long time.”
Oh my. Me too
, I want to say. He needs to stop, but he doesn’t. “I watch you. And I know you watch me too.” One side of his mouth quirks into a slanted grin. “I can’t even imagine what else we can get into if we move past that chapter. Tell me it’s not my imagination.”

Every word he uttered has clawed its way into me in the most painfully, delicious way. Of course I want he wants. Of course I feel what he feels. But … again, that’s just the insatiable, gluttonous succubus that I am. And he should steer clear. “It’s not your imagination,” I voice stupidly.

“Denver?” I hear Greer holler.
Shit!

“H—” I clear my throat. “Hey, Greer, over here.”

Greer rounds the hood of the truck parked behind mine. His eyes go from me to Ransom in a single heartbeat. He tenses slightly before forcing himself to relax again.

“Everything all right?” he asks without taking his eyes from Ransom.

“Yeah, it’s all good. I just …”
have no words to finish that statement.

“Can you believe she’s worried because she’s only beat her own record once in the past couple of weeks?” Ransom expertly covers. My head swivels toward him, though, because I
had
been secretly worried about that. He’s been watching and learning. “I told her I think it’s pretty crazy to sweat that. She’s still almost a full second ahead of her closest competition.”

“That’s true,” Greer agrees. He steps up to my tailgate, his thighs resting along the curved metal. Before I know what he’s about, he snakes one arm around my waist and pulls me into him. My legs divide, sliding around his. His other hand grabs my hip and fits me to him. I can’t help but gasp as I feel him against the inside of my thigh. He’s not completely hard, but he’s not soft either. My eyes dart up to his, and he looks so damn smug, practically daring me to say something, to move away.
I’ll be damned
. “But, if you knew anything about Denver,” he continues, his eyes blazing into mine, “you’d know that she won’t rest until she beats her own record. She’s that damn competitive. Hell, she’s so competitive she was born three weeks premature, just so she could be thirteen hours older than me,” he jokes.

I can’t help but laugh. He loves telling that story. “Not my fault you were asleep on the job and were two weeks late, momma’s boy,” I say, placing my arms on his.

Suddenly, Ransom is the intruder on our private moment, and he needs to leave. Oh, God. He had me all worked up, and now Greer’s here to finish the job. Old habits die hard.

Ransom clears his throat and has my head swinging toward his with his next comment. “Well, I’ll let you two reminisce about days gone by and whatnot. I just wanted Denver to know that I admire her. Telling her competition how to be better and how to possibly beat her was mighty big of her. It takes a special kind of person to care about others’ success.”

The soft look in his eye—it makes me buzz. I’d give anything to bottle it up and get drunk on it every day for the rest of my life. He really does admire me. How ‘bout that?

“Well, don’t be confused. I still wanna win. I still
will win
,” I brag, trying to derail my conflicting thoughts. “I just want everyone else to run a real close second.”