Page 25 of When The Dust Settles

“I thought he wanted to play,” he said, leering at me.

“What’d you do, go in there and try an’ attack him?” I teased even though my throat tightened and my mouth went dry.

His big blue eyes widened almost comically. “I—no, not exac—”

Lifting my hand, I stopped him and he relaxed against me. “He can’t, not on a drive. He’s the foreman of the Red Diamond; he’s in charge of all these men and basically everyone’s safety. He can’t do anything that would compromise that.”

His gaze flicked past me to Mac and then returned to my face. “It’s more than—it’s not just because of the drive. I’ve been out to the Red Diamond before.”

“Oh,” I managed to get out. I wanted him off me. Now. Clearly Robin was already a notch in Mac’s bedpost.

“Tell him how long ago that was,” Mac ordered, his voice icy.

“What?” Robin asked, and I took that moment to drop my arms and take a step back.

I’d walked into a lover’s… what, discussion? I needed to get out of there so they could talk. I was a giant third wheel. “I should leave you two alone so—”

“No,” Mac demanded, striding forward, taking hold of my bicep so I couldn’t leave. “There’s no reason for you to go,” he clarified, then pinned Robin with his stare. “Tell him.”

“I—” He was squinting at Mac. “—what? Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Screw you, Mac,” he snapped, and I saw him wobble just a bit, unsteady on his feet. “I don’t owe you a goddamn—”

“This here is Robin Halsey,” Mac explained, talking over the inebriated Robin as he eased me sideways, closer to him, back toward the flap of his tent. “And he coordinates vacation packages for the resort.”

“At King’s Crossing?” I asked even as Mac drew me forward, stepping around me so I stood between him and the tent.

“Yeah,” he said, tipping his head at Robin. “We met when he came out to the ranch with Mitch Powell before anything was even built out there.”

I looked back and forth between the two. “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said quietly. “I just needed to talk to you right quick.”

Mac nodded and gestured into his tent. “Come inside, then, and talk to me.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” he assured me before glancing back at Robin. “Ain’t that right?”

“No,” Robin said with a shake of his head. “That’s not right at all. I told you I wanted to talk to you and—”

“And I told you,” he growled. “We’re done.”

“You make no sense.”

“Go sleep it off, Robin.”

“Are you kidding?” His voice rose angrily. “How could you possibly want him instead of me? That’s insane.”

“No, it’s really not,” he conceded, shoving me into the tent.

When I rounded on him, he was zipping up the flap.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, then closed the distance between us, taking my face in his big, rough, hard callused hands.

I suddenly could barely breathe.

“Tell me what you wanted to say.”