She crossed her arms into herself and regarded me from the corner of her eye.

Click.

Where so far our “clicks” brought me nothing but unimaginable pleasure, that night I felt only crestfallen.

“Hey,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“You’re awfully distracted.”

I smiled at her. “I suppose I am. I’m sorry,” I apologized.

“It’s okay. Got a lot on your plate lately, I know.” She had no idea. “I don’t think the stresses of the ranch are very good for anyone, but especially for those with an already full plate.”

“No, it’s really okay. I actually love the ranch a lot,” I said, surprising even myself with that statement.

“You should tell Ellie as much. She would be tickled pink.”

I laughed. “Okay, I will.”

We were quiet for a few minutes, just watching the crowd and laughing at a few.

“I, uh, I finished your sculpture,” she told me, but her face never left the crowd.

My stomach plummeted to my feet then leapt into my throat. “Cool,” I said, feeling anything but.

She turned and studied me for a moment before returning her gaze back toward the crowd. “I think I’m gonna join the others,” she said, standing up and disappointing the crap out of me. I watched her take a few steps before turning back around. “Coming?”

I was surprised by her offer and stood to join her. I followed behind her and drank in her walk, determined to retain it so I could recall it for years to come. No one walked like Cricket Hunt. No one.

We joined the others, and just as I expected, I was the fifth wheel in that night’s scenario. After an hour of pity conversation with Cricket, I decided I’d had enough, and surveyed the girls around me. Not a single one could hold a candle to Cricket, but I wasn’t going to sit there and be miserable if I could help it, so I decided to ask a girl to dance, finally deciding on one from a group that had been staring at me all night.

I stood up and told everyone I’d be right back then headed the direction of the group. They did that stupid girl thing where they whisper frantically, then make a feeble attempt to be cool and collected when you’re within ten feet, as if we are blind until that ten-foot mark. The move almost made me turn back around, but I remembered what awaited me and trudged on.

“Hi,” I said to the blonde with the long hair.

She was tall and provocative and chose a more vulgar style compared to Cricket. Essentially, she was the antithesis of Cricket. She was what I needed to distract myself from the one I really wanted but couldn’t have.

“Hi,” she said in an irritating baby voice. I crinkled my nose a little in annoyance, but she didn’t catch on.

“I was wondering if you’d like to dance?” I asked.

She popped off her stool and unattractively tugged at her short skirt, then adjusted her breasts so that optimal cleavage was exposed. Girls, another little clue here: Only skanky guys want skanky girls. You’d be surprised what a little bit longer hem can get you in the long run.

She awkwardly tiptoed on her ridiculous heels to my side and leaned in way too close. I had to slant my head away just to talk to her.

“So, uh, are you from around here?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. I live in town.”

“Cool, cool,” I said wondering if that was all the answer I was going to get.

“I don’t even have to ask if you’re from around here. I can tell you’re not.”

We’d arrived at the dance floor and I placed a hand at the broad of her back to guide her, but she took my hand and pushed it to the top of her ass. I moved it up to the small of her back and sighed in exasperation.

“Uh, how do you know I’m not from around here?” I asked her as we swayed to the slow song.

“Because I know all the local boys,” she said, pressing her breasts against my chest.

“I bet you do,” I said under my breath.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

I felt like I was fighting a slithering snake. She was all hands, legs and breasts, and it was irritating as she attempted over and over to touch me with them at all times.

I was uncomfortable. Before Montana, this was the type of girl I searched for in the clubs. To my friends and me, these were the expendables. The girls we had fun with and cast aside. The thought of the guy that cast aside Bridge burned a hole in my gut. I’m such an asshole.

I felt a heated stare bore into the back of my neck and I rubbed it to rid myself of the sensation. I turned around and found the eyes the stare belonged to. Cricket sat glaring at me—a look of utter dejection graced her face. I found myself questioning her with my eyes, but she noticed herself then and turned her face toward the ground.

I looked to her left and right and saw that she was alone. I studied the dance floor and saw Jonah and Bridge dancing. I looked over at the bar and saw Ethan talking to what looked like a friend of his.

“So, what are you doing after?” the blonde asking me.

“What?”

“I was asking what you were up to later. I have my own place just up the road and…”

“I’m sorry. You seem like a, um, nice girl? But I’m not interested. Thanks for the dance,” I told her, leaving her there stunned, but I didn’t care.

I felt a magnetic pull to Cricket and immediately made my way to her. She noticed me coming and awkwardly contemplated the ceiling above.

“Cricket?” I asked.

She met my eyes. “Hmm?” she asked with an attempt at cheery.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Because I saw you here alone.”

She swallowed. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said sweetly.

I sighed and fell into the stool next to her. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

We sat in silence for five minutes and the songs changed twice. When a slow song came on, I stood and held out my hand.

“Dance with me?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good—”

“Excuse me, but Ethan is a fool if he doesn’t take every opportunity in the world to hold you closely.”

She smiled and stood. “Thank you,” she whispered.

I led her to the dance floor and swept her into me. She was so polished, so refined, so unlike the blonde. I was baffled at her upbringing. I had no idea someone so elegant could come from such an interesting place like a cattle ranch. When I actually thought about it, though, every single one who worked on Hunt Ranch, down to the ranch hands, were polite, genteel and humble, even more so than the circle of wealth I grew up around.

I held her gallantly, respectfully, the way her demeanor, her confidence, her dress called me to hold her. I found myself gulping for air whenever she and I shared personal space. She stole away my sanity, every bit of my control and I felt frenzied, frantic whenever she was near and grieved the loss severely whenever she was not. The sensation was so new to me. She was more than lovely to me. She was painfully interesting, the best conversation I had ever had and I found myself wondering what she was thinking at times, instead of what she was wearing beneath her clothing. No one had ever affected me as she had. No one.

My left cheek rested against the side of her head as we swayed to the melody. We stayed completely quiet. I was unable to speak, too engrossed in making sure I learned her by heart. I felt so damaged holding her. My chest felt bruised, sore and hurt. “Hurt” was the perfect word to describe that misery of not belonging to her. My head kept calling out to me to save myself, to stop the torture, but I couldn’t, just could not, let her go.

“Cricket,” I whispered.

“No,” she spoke into my ear, then sniffed, her voice breaking at the end. “Don’t say it,” she ordered, taking a buried, raspy breath. “I-I can’t tell you why, but I can’t leave Ethan.” I nodded against her head and pressed her face into my shoulder. “I’m going to tell you something, but this can only be said once,” she began, and took another shaky breath, “I suffer for you,” she barely got out. “I want to be near you always. I’m falling in love with you and it’s-it’s a sweet agony, however, it’s still an agony.”

Instead of torturing myself by begging for more, I continued to dance with her, teetering on the verge of just throwing my forearm below her knees and stealing her away, taking her home, to a home, any home, our home...forever.

The song was too short and that cut to the bone. In just a few short weeks, I was almost in love with Cricket Hunt. In just a few more, I’d be a goner but couldn’t convince myself to protect my heart.

I leaned into her face and kissed her cheek, relishing in how soft her skin was, how sweet she smelled. My eyes closed and I decided to keep that kiss forever.

A tap on my shoulder shattered my perfect world, and I hesitantly left the warmth of her skin. I rose, fully ready to accept my fate, expecting to find Ethan, but instead I found a tall, broad-shouldered man in a fine, black suit and odd glasses. There was something familiar about him, and I studied him a moment before placing it. I remembered August’s words “weird old-fashioned spectacles.”

Suddenly, my world crumbled at my feet.

“Who are you?” I asked the man, frozen in fear.

“Mr. Blackwell?” he asked, confirming my worst nightmare. “My name is Dominic Griffin,” he explained, sending me spiraling. He removed his glasses and began polishing the lenses with a handkerchief. “I represent your father.”

When he mentioned my father, Cricket leaned closer into my side and grabbed my forearm.

I reached into my pocket and removed my keys, discreetly placing them in the palm of her hand. She looked up at me, nodded and left. I turned back to the man.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to control my voice.

He smiled chillingly at me and placed his glasses back on his face. “He wants you ruined,” he said candidly, sending a chill up my spine.

I opened my mouth but couldn’t respond. He placed his hands in his pockets and continued.

“He wants you to know that he’s going to ruin you and your sister.”

My blood began to seethe underneath my skin. “You tell him that if he so much as comes near us, I will take every documented piece of evidence I’ve kept against him and I will turn it into the authorities.”

The man looked surprised. “I don’t think you’ll do that,” he said after a moment’s consideration.

“You don’t?”

“No, that means you’d be incriminating yourself.”

“Believe me, I would be more than happy to rot in jail right beside him if it meant he couldn’t hurt my mom or Bridge ever again.”

The man thought on what I said before nodding. “I’ll tell him what you’ve said.”

He turned to walk away, but I stopped him. “And?” I asked.

He pivoted my way once more. “And what?”

“How will I know if he’s decided to back off?”