Page 65 of Drifter’s Heart

Casting aside my need to seek out Winnie and end the burning in my own heart, I stride forward, waving a finger over my head in a circle. Levi gets the hint and drags Billy out in a rodeo-clown costume for a safety talk. This time I don’t bother to suppress my smile. The kid puts on a good show, but his discomfort is clear as he shoots daggers at Levi each time he turns about.

Mind, in his position I wouldn’t display half as good humor.

“He’s taking it well. I’d have that stick stuck halfway up his a⁠—”

The riff from AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” drowns out Winnie’s sass as Billy turns cartwheels in the sawdust.

“That’s gonna get everywhere,” I murmur, whipping an arm out to snag her waist. Tension draws my shoulders in a tight line as Winnie’s yelp is devoured by the music. Everything about her reminds me forcibly of the sorts of sounds she made in the back bedroom of Coyote Falls’s homestead the night we shared there.

I can count on one hand the amount of nights that I’ve stayed under that roof instead of the bunkhouse. I’ve shared every one of them, never felt like I deserved to be there… except for that one with her.

I held her through the few dark hours that we had left, and I woke up with her in my arms, stroking her hair and it felt… perfect. Like that was where I was supposed to be.

And now, after what I’ve learned from Trixie, I feel like the beauty of that moment has been stripped away.

“You’re an asshole for walking away.” Her voice is muffled in my shirt.

You have no idea.

“I am,” I agree.

Trixie finally makes it to the arena and her horse without Slade in sight. Whatever happened between them, I’ve missed it, and I’m glad. We have enough going on between us without adding to the mess. I just hope the rest of the town missed the drama too; otherwise they’ll be the hot new topic for an age.

As Trix gets ready for her ride, the music draws back and the chatter behind us ramps back up. We’re standing in people’s view, but the lanyards that both of us wear allow us free rein to be anywhere on the property tonight, so I really can’t care less.

“You’re not fighting me?” I revel in Winnie’s warmth pressed to me, pleased when she doesn’t shove me away or make a scene of our own.

“I want this, West. I want you,” she stage-whispers back, in a voice loud enough to carry to the next county.

“Yeah?” I stare down at her, my throat tight. “Even when I’m the asshole who tried to quit on you?”

“Even then.” Hope lights her eyes.

I’m more than conscious of the crowd at our backs as I gaze soul-deep and pray for a truth. Whatever truth is in her, and that I’ll recognize it.

“And when you say you love me?”

The flicker of hope falters.

Her mouth opens, but then shuts. Opens again. “Who told you about that stupid thing I do?” she whispers.

My chest cramps, cold and tight, on nothing at all.

“It doesn’t matter.” I keep my voice low, my face carefully blank before the crowd. I guessed as much when she gave me those words I craved from her so easily back at Coyote.

Color drains from her cheeks.

“What matters is whether or not you lied to me the first time you said it.”

The panic I thought I wanted to see twists into fear, and I know in that second that I’m right. But I’m also wrong. Because whatever she has to say, it’s hurting her a whole lot more than it’s hurting me. And no part of my heart wants that.

“West—”

“Forget it.” I cut her off, my voice harsh. Fuck knows what my face looks like as I grip her waist. “I don’t care.”

“But I do.”

The pure fear in her face that twists her lips sickens me. This isn’t what I wanted. “What I want is to pretend I didn’t hear rodeo gossip. Pretend I never⁠—”