I pull back, giving her a simple “thank you” while my eyes dart over her head, to where Julia stands.
She looks substantially more subdued than she did mere seconds ago. No smile. No bounce.
My brows drop in concern, and Evelyn must notice because she pulls me away. Her hands grip the sides of my head, and she tries to pull me down into a kiss.
I shoot back, pushing her away harder than is necessary. But I’m startled by her audacity. I just hopped off a bull, and this woman I barely know is trying to kiss me, right here, right now, in front of everyone.
Including Julia.
I’ve kissed her once already while looking at Julia. While wishing she was Julia. Something that willneverhappen again.
“What the hell?” she says, looking offended.
But I don’t care. I step back even farther.
“What’s wrong?”
I bark out a disbelieving laugh and throw caution to the wind. I blurt out what’s been on my mind for weeks. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that you have zero respect for my boundaries. What’s wrong is you’re all over me at every turn. Read the fucking room, Evelyn! You’re only here because—”
I’m on the verge of telling her that she’s only here because Richard wants her to be.
But like I thought him into existence, Richard storms into the sand ring, his dress shoes slipping as he struggles to gain purchase. I blink, startled by his presence. I was so in the zone with my ride that it’s as though I forgot about him and the cameras entirely. Riding bulls is natural for me. So is finding Julia in a crowd. But putting on a show for the cameras is as unnatural as it gets.
“Emmett,” he practically shrieks. “Get back out there and redo this take, right fucking now!”
I glare back at him, offering a simple, flat, “Over my dead body.”
Then I check beyond him, wanting to make sure that Julia hears this part… but she’s gone.
My stomach plummets. I feel fucking sick. I feel out of control and undone. My chest hurts. My head hurts. My stomach hurts. And all I can think about isher.
Where Julia is now and how upset she must be.
I spin on Richard. “New rule, Dick Wad. No physical contact unless both parties are into it. You’re going to stop telling these girls to put their hands in my pockets or kiss me or rub my back. It’s fucking weird. It’s fucking uncomfortable. I fucking hate it. So, stop. Game over.”
Richard steps in close, dropping his voice to a venomous hiss. “This game is only over when I say so. You signed a contract. This is the job, boy. Suck it up. You’ve got beautiful women vying for your attention. All desperate for your dick. And here you are, acting all virtuous and shit. Pull it together. Go cry somewhere else. I chose you for a reason. And it wasn’t so you could fall in love with the help and turn into a total fucking prude.”
My molars grind. I fucking hate when he calls Juliathe help. It makes me want to flatten his stupid, orange-tanned face.
“Redo the take. Now.” He spits the word out hard enough that his saliva hits me in the face. Carl used to get spitting mad, too.
But I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not scared of Richard Wadsworth.
I am scared of losing Julia, though.
Which is why I look down my nose at him and wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, clearing the wetness from my skin.
And then glare back and spear him with a simple, unaffected “No.”
CHAPTER 32
Emmett
IDRIVE.
And I drive.
And I drive.
