Three

Rider came awake to the sound of hammering, before his eyelids could fully open. He lay on something soft, but not as soft as his own bed. And he’d been dreaming. Of sexy curves in his hands, a sultry scent in his nose. And sassy words in his ear. Sally…

Shit.

He struggled to open his eyes, pushing to a sit at the same time. Bright rays of light beamed in through a crack in the heavy drapes. But the room, the bed, was unfamiliar.

A whole lot of oh shit settled over him. He never stayed until the sun came up. He never let morning find him in his flavor-of-the-night’s bed. For both parties’ sake, he left after a few hours. Usually after she fell asleep. It cut out the awkwardness of saying goodbye after sharing the lonely night.

The hammering nearby made it feel like his head had bricks instead of brains, and he pushed at the pain behind his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Mother of fuck,” he muttered.

“Nope. Just Ragan and Mac working on the roof repairs.”

Hearing Sally’s voice woke him up faster than a splash of ice water.

He turned to see her beside him on the mattress, bare legs tangled in the messy sheets. His gaze followed a path upward until it touched on the curve of her ass. American flag panties. Well, fuck him stupid. The sight was a hell of a lot hotter than he’d anticipated. Stars and stripes forever and ever, amen.

Swallowing hard, he continued up, gliding over her tank covered back, over her shoulders and neck until he reached her head.

Holy hot mess.

Ratted-to-hell hair crowned her head, and her makeup-streaked face was smushed into the pillow. Her eyes were closed but she clearly wasn’t asleep.

Only her mouth moved as she murmured, “Don’t be lookin’ at me with disdain, Rider Daley. You caused all this. I normally wake up looking like a sweet fucking dream. But not after last night. Not after that party between my legs.”

Oh. Fuck.

Oh, hell.

Aw, shit.

“Party?” he gulped.

Her eyes flew open but the rest of her remained still. “Yeah. Party.” Her gaze rolled over him much like he’d just done with her.

“What party, Sally?”

She sat up, staring him down like a grandma in church, while he dug back through his dull memories, trying like hell to recall what happened. The fact that her tits were poking against the white tank top, braless, weren’t exactly helping.

“You don’t remember?” she asked, incredulous.

Rider scratched his eyebrow. “It’s a little foggy.”

She tipped her head to one side, sizing him up.

“You don’t remember a thing, do you?”

He said nothing.

“You don’t remember how you made it purr?”

Again, he kept quiet, and her expression turned naughty

“Or how we went so fast and hard? And for so long? Goddamn it, Rider. I can’t believe you don’t remember.” She threw her pillow at him, and he didn’t even try to stop it from smacking him in the chest. “You promised me you weren’t too drunk. You promised you’d remember what we’d shared!”

Holy shit. Just how far did they go last night? It couldn’t have been what it sounded like. No way. He’d remember rocking Sinful Sally’s world. He’d only been thinking about it for months. And fuck, how was he missing everything from the pool table on?

“Goddamn it, Sally. Tell me what happened last night.”

She took her time wrapping her ratted gold locks into a bun on top of her head. Damn, that was cute.

“You really don’t remember?” There was a touch of humor in her voice.

Cute or not, if she didn’t clue him in fast, he was going have to resort to something nefarious.

Threats. But what would scare Sally into spilling the deets?

“I swear to god, woman…”

Something flickered in her eyes. Something wicked and a little animalistic. He’d noticed it before, with her and the other vixens. Aaron said it was their inner fox coming close to the surface. Rider had to admit, it was hot as hell.

Like every fucking thing about her.

“You took me for a riiiide,” she purred. “Or rather, I took you for one. It was good. Real good. It’s a shame you don’t remember it.” Her tone was light, and she plopped back to the bed.

But her words hit him like a punch right in the soft spot beneath his ribs. It felt like all the air in the room had vanished. Like he was the piece of shit in a toilet bowl, swirling and swirling, getting closer to that drain.

In all his man-whoring days, he’d never fucked up this bad. Never was so drunk he couldn’t remember banging his girl. And never was he drunk enough to bang one he cared about.

But then again, he’d never cared about one like he did Sally. Not since…

Evie.

“No.” He dropped his head to his hands. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Sally. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Rider stood from the bed to pace the small room. He was relieved to find he was still in his jeans. Except how the hell did he give it to Sally good with his jeans still on?

Shit, she must’ve been dipping in the dry-hump bastard pool if she thought jeans-on was good. Real good, in her words.

And he recognized where he was now. They were at Old Man Hubbard’s place. The little motel on the fringe of town where the vixens lived and worked.

“Look, I can’t remember any of it, and I’m damn sorry. I’m not that kind of asshole, okay. But we shouldn’t even be in this mess. I never would’ve fucked with you. Not you. Never in a million years. What the hell did I drink?”

He found her gaze across the room. She was quiet, lying back against the pillow, eyes narrowed to mere slivers. She’d lost any hint of playfulness. But there was something else… she looked furious.

“Sally—”

“Jack Daniels. Many shots. Too many, apparently.”

Jack. Well that explained it. JD was his kryptonite.

Or she was.

Or both.

She stood, walking to the closet and yanked some jeans free from a hanger. Quickly, she jerked them on over her American flag panties. And then, like it was no big thing, she ripped her tank over her head and replaced it with a sporty half-shirt bra.

Rider was drooling even with her back to him. Just the fact that she was bare in his presence was a knife in his gut.

What had he done? He’d never be able to fix this.

“I was playing with you,” she said low. “Taking a dig at you because you couldn’t remember last night. But don’t worry, Rider. You didn’t fuck with me.”

“What?”

She twisted to face him, her expression showing sadness just before the shutters came down to look like normal carefree Sally.

“We didn’t fuck, okay? We did exactly what I said. We went for a long ride on your goddamn Harley. You were too drunk to drive so I drove. We took all the backroads. Watched the stars. It was fun. We cut up. We laughed. We ended up here. You wanted to see my stars and stripes panties, so I showed you. You passed out in the bed. I crashed next to you. We woke up to Mac’s hammering. The end.”

“Wait, we didn’t…”

“No, asshole. We didn’t. So you can quit your frimping and fretting. Your integrity is still intact.”

Rider blew out a breath of relief so hard he went dizzy from it. He bent forward, hands on his knees, sucking in air to get steady again.

“Holy shit.” A relieved laugh bubbled out of him. It was obscene but he couldn’t help it.

He was so damn happy he hadn’t screwed Sally and forgotten it. Used her for relief. Yes, she matched his lonely side, and maybe he could have eased her the way he did other ladies. But… damn it, Sally deserved better than him. She deserved what Lexington had. Someone who could give her the goddamn world. Give her his entire fucking heart, that’s what Sally deserved.

And Rider wasn’t that guy.

“It was a joke,” he said, sobering a little.

“Yeah,” Sally deadpanned. “Like your abs. Put a shirt on.”

Rider frowned, collecting his shirt from the floor. “What’s wrong with my abs?”

Sally eyed his middle. “My guess is too much beer and not enough sit-ups.”

Rider looked down, flexing. There was plenty of definition there. Maybe not as much as those werewolves, or even Aaron. But he was doing just fine. He didn’t need sit-ups. He flexed his abs enough when he was doing the dirty.

But he kept that part to himself and pulled his shirt on.

“Sally… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“What? Assume that I’d fuck you?”

“—get that drunk.”

She shrugged. “You don’t see me crying, do ya?”

No, but maybe she needed to. Maybe she was hurt, and covered it up so he wouldn’t know.

Rider watched her pull on a muscle shirt. The front of it said Sexy As Brappp with two dirt bike tires where her tits should be.

“So… we went riding, huh? Where’d we go?”

“Took some shitty road with no name out to Devil’s Bend.”

“Hog Swallow.”

She frowned. “Getting damn tired of your insults, Rider Daley.”

He barked out a laugh, wishing there wasn’t a bed between them. No, wait. The bed was a good thing. Otherwise, he’d be trying to touch her. Take his finger to the crinkled spot between her brows and try to iron it out.

“The name of the road is Hog Swallow.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Naw. I’m not.”

“What the hell kind of name is Hog Swallow?”

He shrugged. “It’s what we do in Arkansas. Give things ridiculous names so people think we’re crazy. Toad Suck. Bald Knob. Possum Grape.”

Sally crinkled her nose. “I’m feeling violated right now.”

“Be glad you landed in Cedar Valley. Pretty safe as far as names go. We do have Hog Swallow Road though. There’s also Sog Hallow. It runs along the river out by the DTD club.”

Sally blinked. “Yeah, okay.”

He was talking too much. Rider never talked this much. He just needed to know she was okay. And the more he talked, the more he could gauge her.

She slung her hands around her hips. “Well, since you’re here, I’m calling in a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Yeah. You owe me for getting you to a safe place when you were drunk off your ass last night. I took care of you. Plus, we really did have fun. Even if you don’t remember it.” The pain creeped into her voice. He was getting better at detecting it, the little things that told him she wasn’t as solid as she pretended to be. “So… hell yeah. You owe me.”

Rider crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. “Awright, peach,” he murmured, stealing the nickname she liked to use on damn near everybody. He liked it. It suited her ass. “Tell me what you need.”

She pressed her lips together, but it wasn’t in the normal sex-drunk way she did when she was in full-blown seduction mode. This time it was more natural, and he wanted to catalog it in his mind to think about later.

“Follow me.”

Anywhere, he almost said out loud. But he stopped himself just in time. Inside, his heart only felt sicker as he gave himself a metaphorical punch to the gut. Do not feel more for her. You’re already too deep.

But his vixen was reeling him in like a hooked fish. How would he survive her? And why was every woman his heart chose, something he had to survive.

A guarantee. That’s what Rider wanted. When his heart chose a woman, he wanted to know he wouldn’t be left bleeding on the floor.

But Sally had taken care of him last night. So he followed her out of the room, watching her ass sway in front of him the entire time.