Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
No, actually it’s everything about Rawhide. All my life I heard so many horror stories about the family that I never considered them to be anything other than the monsters we were told they were. But just look at them. They’re truly a family, all these brothers and Haven. They care about one another. Or at the very least, they don’t hit children or abuse women like Peyton’s and my father did.
“And you know, he’s really gentle. I know he looks all big and fierce and of course, he kidnapped you and all that,” Haven says to Peyton, drinking her own beer and wrinkling her nose. “But he really is the sweetest. He detests violence; he really does. He’s the only one among them who won’t go hunting. He refuses, says killing animals for food is enough, doesn’t want to kill them for sport too. He hates guns. He—”
“What?”
That’s me. So far, I’ve been really quiet. I’ve been given a lemonade, my drink of choice, but I’ve yet to take a sip. All I’ve done ever since we arrived at the party is stand in this very spot, staring at the fire and not at him, and occasionally murmuring a noncommittal sound as Peyton and Haven talk about things.
So I get that both of them are a little shocked at my sudden interruption. Plus, I was a little loud, too, but I can’t help it. Not at what I just found out. “He doesn’t like guns?”
“Uh, yeah, no,” Haven says, overcoming her shock quickly and smiling. “I don’t think he’s ever shot one. Or maybe once or twice but—”
“Can you hold my drink?” I turn to Peyton, cutting Haven off.
I know it’s rude, but again, no helping that. I thrust the drink at Peyton, and she has no choice but to take it as she asks, “Riri, you okay? What—”
“I’ll just be a second,” I say to them both and take off.
Toward him.
Toward that asshole who lied to me. Again. And again and fucking again.
Halfway through my journey, I realize he isn’t there anymore and I come to a halt. Frantically, I look around and see a flash of his Stetson disappearing around the barn. The one just by the corral where Axton was trying to break the bronco. I make a beeline for it, and soon I’m rounding the corner of the barn. I don’t care if Axton or Haven or their entire Grayson clan follows me and then locks me up in his stupid room after I’m done with him; I’m not going to let him get away with this, with lying. He doesn’t—
I scream the moment an arm wraps around my waist. Or I try to, but the sound gets muffled because simultaneously, a hand wraps around my mouth, too, and I’m picked up off the ground. And then I’m being taken somewhere. All of this happens so suddenly and in under two seconds that I should be reeling. I should be confused and panicked out of my mind.
But I guess he trained me well.
He taught me how to react to a sudden grab in a dark alley–esque situation. So I’m freaking out, yes, but not because I’m afraid but because I know it’s him; and how dare he grab me again like a freaking criminal? Like this is the first time we’ve met and he hasn’t done all the things he’s done.
As he takes me wherever he wants to take me, I twist and struggle in his grip. I scratch his arms. I elbow his ribs. I even try to kick back and hit his thighs and calves. Not that it has any effect on him. He still keeps walking, keeping me plastered to his hot and hard chest, without once breaking his stride.
When he finally arrives at the destination, all the way to the back and away from the party, he puts me down, spins me around, and pins me to the wooden wall of the barn. And I finally lock eyes with him in the dark, both our breaths hard and fast and noisy. His Stetson is gone and his hair’s all mussed up, strands falling over his forehead, so I guess I did some damage.
But why does he look so beautiful, still?
And why does his voice sound so much rougher than it did only a few hours ago when he says, “Thought I told you not to tail an ex-con.”
My breaths are still loud, but at his words, irritated like I’m some kind of a bother, they grow even faster and instead of replying back, I do what I’ve wanted to do all this time. I punch his face. It’s not as hard as Axton’s was yesterday or even Haven’s, and I think it hurt me more than it did him, because all it did was make him blink and breathe through his nostrils, but I’m glad I did it.