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They let him go too, and he came at me fist first.
There was no time to dodge him, and I took the hit with a crack in the mouth that split my lip wide open. Stars burst in my vision, ears ringing, stunned as I staggered.
“That is for nearly killin’ her for no reason outside of you bein’ a dick,” Wyatt spat, spearing his finger in my direction. “She doesn’t know what she’s doin’ out there.”
“I didn’t make the rule.” I spit a gob of blood into the dirt and straightened up.
“No, but you enforced it. Get the fuck outta here, Duke. You did what you came to do. And I swear to God, if you hurt her again, I’ll put you in the ground myself.”
I stood, weathering the hard looks of the surrounding men. They told me all I needed to know.
I wasn’t welcome here.
With a nod, I bent to pick up my hat, dusting it off on my thigh. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry she got hurt.”
“Your word ain’t worth shit. Walk faster.”
Settling my hat on my head, I turned to leave. Evangeline had initially made her way out behind me, but stayed back on seeing hands were about to get thrown. The cluster of men nodded to her, a few mumbling ma’am as she passed them, white-faced and wide-eyed.
“Jesus Christ,” she said under her breath, struggling to keep up as I stormed out of the building. “I didn’t realize the men here were feral. I didn’t realize you were feral.”
“I’m not.” I ripped my hat off once we were outside.
“Yes, you most definitely are.”
I stopped and turned around on her so fast, she nearly ran into me. “I’m playing the part, Angie. I know these people, and I know how they work. You know me well enough to know I’m not like them. Not anymore.”
“All right,” she said calmly, gently, not daring to reach out and touch me. “I hear you. Can we go get a drink now?”
“Fine,” I growled, turning for the Escalade, sliding into its opulence in my dusty, grimy cowboy clothes.
“I know what I’m doing,” I said to no one as I started the ignition.
And I almost believed it.
7
WHY ME?
POPPY
I didn’t see Duke for a week, though not because he’d discovered a smidge of self-preservation.
Concussions, I learned, were not like on TV. I slept for two days and watched movies in the dark for the rest. By day seven, I was ready to riot if my family wouldn’t at least let me out for a walk. I mean, as much rioting as I could have done with shit for balance.
Meanwhile, my sisters and mother were busy working on my campaign, now that it was official. We already had signs, stickers, and T-shirts made, and our first outreach would be at our monthly farmer’s market. Which was where I found myself today, standing at a table next to my family’s honey booth with Evan at my side. Said table was covered in pro-Poppy goodies, and our hands were busy passing out stickers and pamphlets.
People apparently went bananas over stickers and yard signs, even though the data stated they were all but useless. Try telling that to Uber Stan, who I caught taking a stack of bumper stickers with a plan to plaster them on the back of the Suburban he used to taxi the town around. He didn’t actually work for Uber, just passed out a card with his phone number and told us all to text him if we needed a ride. Even made a fake Uber sign for his back window. Nobody told him that wasn’t quite how it worked, too proud of the sweet old man for managing to figure out texts and Venmo to break his heart.
The day was warm and sunny, the farmer’s market packed with familiar faces. Our honey booth had been slammed all day, keeping my sisters too busy to help me. Fortunately, it was only a two-person job.
Daisy had put together pamphlets outlining my platform around photos of me on the farm. We’d had a photographer come to take pictures for our website, and they were perfect for this too. I looked all kinds of wholesome and responsible and family-oriented, even though I only hit two out of three on a good day.
The throng had been too dense to see much of Duke, whose booth was two down and on the other side of the aisle. He’d set it up this way on purpose, I was certain of that—he’d been fucking with me since he entered city limits. But I hadn’t thought of him much today, able to pretend for a moment that he wasn’t here at all.
Until, of course, the crowd thinned, and there he was.
It was just unfair, him standing there like that, so tall and sturdy and too handsome for his own good. It wasn’t fair that his clothes fit him like they did, accentuating every lean, strong curve of his body. It was universal bullshit that his smile made my heart flip-flop, or that his green eyes were so inviting, so enticing.
