Freed (24 page)

My mom’s pat on the head after I won Nationals two years ago
.

My dad jostling my shoulder with his when he met me at the airport last summer.

A pinch on the arm the last time I got suspended from school.

Wow, I blow out a breath. After searching my memory for a few seconds, a memory from when I was ten, surfaces as evidence of the last hug my mother gave me. My father’s goes back even farther than that. That’s not good, right? God as my witness, I’d seen Ransom and Karen exchange no less than three or four hugs a day. A day! Shit. No wonder I’m so fucked-up.

I vow right here, right now, that when I have my babies I’m going to tell them and show them how much I love them. When they cry, I will hold them, no matter how old they are. When they accomplish something, even if it’s pouring a glass of milk without spilling it, I will praise them. When they make their dreams come true, or see their dreams turn into dust, I will hug them. My children will know they are loved, that way when other people show them love, they’ll be able to trust it. They will not have panic attacks just because someone shows them a little kindness.

Maybe someone like me shouldn’t even have children. I mean, what do I know about raising a human being with a healthy psyche? But I’ve always wanted kids, and I hadn’t altered that vision, even after all the bad crap. I determine I won’t screw ‘em up too bad, since I’m sitting here promising myself that I will hug them even though they’re not even a blip on the radar yet.

Ransom’s door creaks open, and there he stands. Grinning at me, he crosses the room swiftly, laying another one of those soul-brightening kisses on me.

When he shifts and sits down to kick off his boots, it suddenly occurs to me that since Edwin had been here laying one on Karen, then Victoria had definitely used her father as an excuse to get Ransom away.

“What did she want?” I ask, just wanting to get this out of way.

He spins back to me, and the look of confusion nearly makes me laugh. It could have been so much worse—regret, pain, or longing. I don’t know that I could’ve taken it. “What is it about people who only want something when they see someone else with it? I’ll never get that. Here I was, thinking she was as over me as I am her. I may have been the one to break things off, but hell, she’s the one who cheated.” Puzzled, is not an emotion I’m used to seeing on Ransom, so it definitely distracts me from overreacting.

“Did she ever say why she cheated?”

“Oh, yeah. She told me years ago. Said I was too single-minded, and she wanted to experience things before we settled down. Back then, she was adamant that, even though we were breaking up, it wouldn’t be forever.”

“Shit,” I breathe. “She wanted you on reserve.”

“Yep. I told her then she was out of her mind—that we’d never get back together. You know, if she’d talked to me before she messed around and told me she wanted a break, might have been a different story. But, even at seventeen, I knew I could never be with someone who had so little respect for me.”

“But if it weren’t for that, I guess there would be nothing to keep you apart.”

He chuckles, grabs me around the waist, hoisting me up to straddle his lap. “You’ve met her. You know me. Does she seem like she’s woman enough for me?”

“Oh my God! You are so damn cocky.” But in a sense, he’s implying that I am woman enough.
Hmm
… that’s nice.

“Baby, I’ve told you that’s confidence, not cockiness. I know what I want, and I know who I want.”

“And you want me.” A small measure of pride runs through me as I realize I phrased that like a statement and not a question.

“Better believe it.” His intense gaze locks on me, and I’m spellbound. Those powerful arms tighten around me—arms that make him strong enough to conquer bulls and boxing opponents and … me. Arms that are strong enough to become gentle and hold me and love me. “You’re it for me.” And in that gravelly voice that makes it seem like his words are scraped from the bottom of his very soul, he whispers, “God, woman. You’re the bulls, the horn, the whole
fucking
ride—everything.”

Chapter Eighteen

Denver

I
QUICKLY DISCOVER
that, for a college student, the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is the oddest combination of working your ass off and partying your ass off. You work so hard that when you do finally get a break, you make the most of it. Ransom and I stole little moments as much as possible, but there comes a time when you need a crazy night to work all that stress out because you know the next week is going to be more intense than the one before it. That calls for a girls’ night out.

Or so we’d planned.

“Denver!” Maggie shouts from behind me. “They’re here. Can you believe it? Of all the bars in Bozeman, they just happen to show up here? Yeah, right! They’re spying on us.”

“What are you yelling about?” I ask, spinning around to take her in. Her hands are splayed on her hips, jaw set, but amusement dances in her eyes.

“The boys. They just walked in. Look at them. Sitting at the bar, pretending they don’t know we’re here. Do they not trust us?” God, she’s all over the place.

I glance over her shoulder, and sure enough, Ransom graces the barstool with an air of casual indifference, flanked by Pete, Austin, Gage, Stone, and a couple of the other bull riders. Rolling my eyes at them, I focus on Maggie again. “Nah, it’s not that. If I know them, they’re watching out for us, and more importantly, staking their claim.”

She gives an exasperated huff. “Oh, two can play that game. I say we ignore them and go about our business.”

Stephanie has joined the meeting of the minds by this point and adds, “Yeah, and at the end of the night, we’ll pick them up and take them home with us like a one-night stand or something.”

I’m nodding before she even finishes. “Oh, I like the way you think, Stephanie. It’s so on. Let’s drive ‘em crazy, girls.”

Lauren pipes up, adding, “We should dance with other guys too. Make ‘em jealous.”

“Um, I’m not sure about that,” a quiet voice interjects. “They look a little menacing.” Stephanie and Maggie shoot her baffled looks—
her
being Austin’s love interest, Meredith. I’d finally wheedled her identity from him. It had only taken half a bottle of Jack after we’d spent the entire day working on our group project. He made me promise not to do anything embarrassing, and I hadn’t. I just wanted to know her. See if she was good enough for him. So, taking a page out of Stone’s book, we’d had a couple of study sessions together, which gave me the perfect opportunity to invite her out and really get to know her. So far, I like what I know.

“They’re harmless,” Maggie assures her. “Underneath all that caveman posturing they usually project, lies actual gentlemen, if you can believe it.”

We huddle together off to the side of the dance floor and make plans to torture our well-meaning cowboys. Meredith surprises me by adding some intriguing plays for us to implement. “OK,” she says, “so, let me get this straight, it’s Denver and Ransom.” We nod. “Pete and Maggie. Then Stephanie and Gage.”

“Most days,” Stephanie grumbles. And we laugh at their penchant for breaking up and getting right back together. Stephanie finally confessed to us that once they’d discovered how fun making up was, now their break ups are more staged than anything else.

“All right,” Meredith continues. “That leaves Austin, Stone, Trent, and James. I’m single. Lauren’s single.”

“Lauren’s totally good with being single,” she rushes out.

“And Stone’s off limits,” I assert, feeling a protective urge. The girls just roll their eyes at me. “What? He’s young.”

“You have your eye on one of them, Meredith?” Maggie asks.

A slow blush steals over her porcelain skin. “Maybe,” she teases. “I’ve never dated a cowboy, let alone a bull rider.”

“It’s an experience,” Stephanie quips.

And I can’t stand it. If she goes over and flirts with one of the other guys, I have no idea how Austin will react, and it’ll be all my fault. “Austin’s nice,” I say lamely, not wanting to be too obvious.

“He really is,” she agrees quietly. “He’s so cute, and of course, he’s quite the character.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Oh my God!” Maggie squeals. “Austin would make a great boyfriend. He’s so funny and totally inappropriate, but really, can’t you just imagine all
that
honed in on you?” She squeals again, oblivious to the death glare I give her.

“I didn’t realize you knew him,” I prompt Meredith, trying to get us back on track.

“We’ve had a few classes together over the last year or so,” she pauses, taking on a thoughtful look. “I thought he was interested in me for a while there, but he never asked me out. Just kept things friendly. Maybe we’ll change things up a bit tonight,” she adds with a sly grin, shocking the hell out of me.

You’re welcome, Austin!

Plans made, we break. I saunter over to the bar and wedge myself between Ransom and Pete. Ransom turns and props himself up on his elbow, giving me a lazy grin. Then he winks at me. And damn it, he knows that wink is all-powerful. It almost throws me off my game. Almost.

Grinning back, I say, “Fancy meeting you boys here, huh?”

“Yeah, crazier things have happened,” he teases in that husky voice of his. Well, he’s just deploying all his weapons, isn’t he?
Voice, grin, and wink … oh my!

“Oh, so this is just a coincidence then?”

“Looks like,” he whispers, having moved right in next to my ear. “You’ve braided your hair.”

My ability to speak deserts me, since he’s got all my senses overwhelmed now. I actually nuzzle at his neck for a split-second before shaking off the sensual fog. The girls will be so disappointed in me. “My boyfriend likes my hair like this,” I finally point out. “And I’ll be seeing him
later
tonight.”

“What can I get for you?” the bartender interrupts. Like any college student worth her salt, I have now acquired myself a very convincing fake ID, so I order myself a Jack and Coke. Ransom just quirks a brow at me. Hey, his rules have been revised to
drink but don’t get drunk
and
only drink around him
, and since he’s decided to grace me with his presence, I’m going to indulge a little.

We have kind of a friendly stare down while I wait for my drink. Once the bartender slides my drink in front of me, I snatch it up, and on a whim, steal Ransom’s cowboy hat off of his head. “I’m gonna be needing this. Thanks!” I smirk and spin away from him before he can protest. I slide the hat down on my head, take a sip of my drink, and make my way across the bar. And I feel his eyes caress my every step. I make sure to give him a good floorshow.

I’ve timed it just right. I nearly cheer when the mechanical bull rider operator motions me over for my turn. Another girl dismounts the bull, and the guys crowd around her, going nuts. She’s flushed, barefooted, and seems to have a hard time pulling her skirt out of her ass.

“What kinda ride you looking for, cowgirl?” the operator asks me.

“As close to the real thing as you can get. I’m not interested in one of those sexy, slow rides, so that means start me off at a decent speed, crank it up quick, and keep me guessing.”

“Oh, I see. And I like,” he grins. “Any song requests?”

I mull that over for a second. “Got some Charlie Daniels? ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ in particular?”

“Gotcha covered, sweetheart.” I sign the little waiver, acknowledging that I’m the only one at fault if I get my ass kicked, and bounce up onto the inflated riding ring. My cowgirl boots dig into the foamy, protective surface. I position myself at the side of the surprisingly lifelike bull, taking a deep bow as the announcer calls out, “Give it up for our next bull rider, Miss Denver!” His voice echoes out over the cheering crowd, and a rush of adrenaline floods my veins. I fight the urge to look for Ransom in the crowd, but I can feel him watching me.

Hitching one leg over the bull, I hop on and straddle it. The operator comes over to make sure I’m situated, and to remind me of the finer points. “Hey,” I shout, as he turns back to me. “Don’t stop him if you see me falling off. Either he decides when this ride is over or I do, got it?”

Laughing, he nods at me. “What about if you’re going over his head? Most girls don’t like that.”

“Let it play out,” I demand.

Tightening my grip on the leather handle, I ready myself to either look like a god or a fool. The operator gets behind his controls, and of course, does that thing where he jostles the bull so my ass jiggles slowly and suggestively, as he makes harmless innuendos.

The first forward jolt has me clenching my legs tight before he puts me in a spin, and it’s everything I can do to keep my arm extended over my head when my instincts kick in for me to hold on. Just when I get used to the spin, he sends the bull into a forward lurch that gets a yelp out of me, and then I’m in a backward lurch before spinning again. I find my rhythm though, and like Ransom had told me not too long ago, I just feel the bull and go with it.
“Get out of your head, and don’t try to anticipate what he’ll do,”
he told me once when I’d asked him to describe what it felt like to ride.
“Feel him.”
And boy, do I. He shakes and jerks and pitches, and the crowd is roaring now, but they’re just white noise being drowned out by my thundering heart.