Authors: Lynetta Halat
If anything good has come out of this, he’s learned that Greer’s actions were not completely unprovoked, and it’s felt good to set the record straight on that with him. I can’t have anyone going around thinking the absolute worst about Greer, especially someone I respect as much as Ransom.
I swipe over his last text from the night before, remembering how much fun his game of
Hot or Not?
had been. It started off kind of silly and innocuous—Brad Paisley for me? Nerd Hot! Miranda Lambert for him? Hot! Mullets? NOT! Camel toe? NOT! His last query caused a cold sweat to break out over me. I know exactly how he meant it—playful but seeking all the same … Rope? I stared at the word, my eyes wide, my pulse beating as quickly as the hummingbird’s wings.
Hot
.
And good night!
I shot back.
One word and he had me quivering like the heroine from one of my bodice-ripping, historical romance reads.
The door opens to the classroom, so I turn my phone off and slip it into a pocket before I pull myself off the wall and enter. After a few minutes, I notice Austin’s still not here for the second class in a row, which is odd because he usually beats me and talks my head off until class starts. Just as our professor begins, Austin slips in the door and slides into the seat beside me. He looks worried, so I mouth, “Are you OK?” He just nods.
When class ends, I lean over to ask what’s up with him since he didn’t write me the first dirty note today, but before I’m able, I feel someone standing over my desk. Looking up, I almost gasp, as clear, green eyes that are as familiar to me as my own stare down at me, but I don’t know this guy. I fight a shiver at the odd likeness.
“Umm … hi, Denver,” he says. “I heard you were good with all this history stuff. I was hoping I could buy you a coffee and we could talk … about it.”
Gotta give him props for his courage, even though I’m a little taken aback. “I have another class now …”
“Stone,” he supplies. “Yeah, no. That’s fine. We can meet up whenever you’re available. I transferred in late and could really use some help getting caught up. Dr. Anderson said I should speak with you.”
I glance at Austin, not believing he’s staying quiet, and not interceding with talk of me being Ransom’s girl. He’s staring at his cell and looking thoughtful. Again, totally unlike him.
Looking back to Stone, I hear myself volunteering to meet up and help him out. We make plans to meet after my last class today. He jots his number down for me in case anything changes.
My gaze follows him as he exits, and I can’t help thinking he reminds me of my favorite bull rider, which is crazy, because no one compares to John Ransom.
Focusing my attention back on the oddly contemplative Austin, I say, “Penny for your thoughts.”
Nothing.
“Austin Ransom?” I singsong.
His head snaps back, and he blows a light breath. “Yes, Denver Dempsey?”
“What’s got you all quiet and nearly late for class? You OK?”
He jerks his hand through his shaggy, dark brown hair. “Yeah. Got a lot on my mind. Just thinking.”
“’Bout what?” I ask, standing to head for the door so I’m not late for my next class.
He looks serious for a moment before a mischievous glint takes over. “About getting my boner bedazzled,” he says with a lopsided grin.
My chuckle bounces off the walls. He just stares at me, making my laughter die out. “You’re serious?”
“Do you girls find that hot? Seriously?”
“Uh, umm …” I stammer.
“I’m kidding, Denver,” he replies, letting me off the hook. “Kinda.”
“What’s made you think of that?”
“Well, I was hanging with this chick, and while she was in the shower, I grabbed her book. Not a real book, but one of those …” He gestures a swiping motion.
“E-readers?” I supply.
He waves an impatient hand. “Yeah, e-readers. And the dude she’s lusting over has an alpaca.”
I snort. “You mean, apadravya?”
He finally stands and throws an arm around my shoulders as we move to our next class. “How do you chicks know about this shit? Seriously?”
I can only laugh. “Those e-books?” He nods. “Very informative,” I state, thinking that if I hadn’t read my own share of them, I’d have been even more blindsided by Ransom and his “interests.”
“Ah … yeah, so this dude, Ruler—”
“Rule,” I correct, knowing exactly the pierced hottie that this “chick” was reading.
“Whatever,” he mumbles. “Rule has a way with the ladies, and apparently that way is fuckhot, in part, due to his piercing. I really don’t know if I’m committed enough to get my junk pierced.”
“That is definitely something you should be fully committed to,” I agree, just as he flashes me a pierced penis pic from his phone.
“Oh, God,” I giggle. “That’s a Prince Albert.”
“Huh?” I glance around, making sure no one’s privy to our conversation.
“Lemme see,” I say before grabbing his phone, quickly pulling up what he’s looking for, and shoving it back to him. “Apa.”
“Ohhhh,” he whistles between his teeth. “Ow.”
“Yeah, and before you commit—” I grab his phone and pull up another image “—make sure you’re well-informed.”
“Ew. My dick just crawled inside my stomach. Thanks for that,” he deadpans.
“Hey, you gotta know the risks involved when messing with the … family jewels,” I laugh.
“I probably won’t be able to get a hard-on for a week now, Denver.”
“Better no hard-on, than
that
.” I gesture at the hideous picture.
“Yeah.” Wincing, he clears his phone, and we prop ourselves against the wall from our next class. “So, you coming over to Ransom’s tonight?”
“Uh, I don’t know. What’s going on?”
He waggles his eyebrows at me. “We’re having a little par-tay.”
“Oh, well, I wasn’t invited,” I pout playfully.
He pokes my lip back in with his finger. “I’m inviting you, and I’d bet money you have an invite waiting on your phone. We just decided this morning.”
I narrow my eyes at him, pull out my phone, and power it up, grinning when I see Ransom’s text.
You are cordially invited to my apartment tonight to hang out with a bunch of drunk, peckerheaded bull riders. Must RSVP. Must wear skirt.
“I can tell by that mischievous smile you have been invited.” His eyes widen, and he tips my phone down. “Is my cousin a naughty texter? I’ve always wondered.”
“Hey,” I protest. “None of your business.” A guilty blush warms my cheeks.
“He is,” he whispers. “Dirty little minx.”
I give a bark of laughter. “I don’t think minx fits him, Austin.”
“I was talking about you, Denver,” he laughs and smacks me on my butt as we move into class. “By the way, you’re not meeting that dude by yourself. Don’t trust ‘em.”
I didn’t even think he’d been paying attention to my conversation with Stone. Looking back over my shoulder, I see he’s serious. “Austin, our professor told him to talk to me about helping him get caught up. He’s harmless.”
“No dude is harmless. No. Dude,” he reiterates.
“Fine. Wanna go with?”
“I already was, sweet cheeks, but thanks for asking,” he smirks.
“You’re sure you just want coffee? They have, like, a billion flavors,” Austin offers, throwing his hand at the mind-numbing selection of coffee.
“Absolutely. All that crap gets in the way of my coffee,” I tell him, looking around for Stone. “Oh, get me a blueberry muffin,” I toss over my shoulder.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I’ve turned in a complete circle when I hear a low voice call my name. He’s standing up now, and I pick him out easily amongst the crowd.
He gives me a tentative smile that I can’t help but return as he pulls a chair out for me.
“Hi, Denver, thanks for coming,” he says sweetly. He may look like my bull rider, but his demeanor is the exact opposite. He’s rugged-looking like Ransom, but with soft, faded edges, rather than the jagged ones Ransom sports. His hair is a shade or two lighter, and he wears it longer so that it has a bit of a wave to it.
“No problem, Stone. What do you need help with exactly?” I say, getting down to business.
“Umm … well, I’ve been in class for a few weeks now, but I can’t seem to get a handle on the response journal he’s got us working on. Also, I was hoping to get copies of your notes from those first couple of weeks. I thought I’d be able to get caught up on my own, but this class is giving me trouble.”
“Yeah, sure. That’s easy enough.”
“Incoming!” Austin declares before piling our table with three little bags of food, bottles of water, and coffees.
“Geez, Austin,” I complain, scooting my binder out of the way just in time.
“What? I’m hungry,” he mumbles around another bag dangling from his teeth. I reach up and snag it, hoping it’s not my muffin he’s slobbering all over.
“Stone, this Neanderthal is my friend, Austin Ransom. Austin, this is Stone …”
“Hudson,” he finishes, shaking Austin’s hand. I don’t miss the nervous dart his eyes make to mine. Odd. Was he hoping to get me alone? I don’t get that
looking to get in your panties
vibe
from him.
“So, Stone. You rodeo?” Austin asks, sliding my muffin and coffee to me. “Stay hydrated,” he demands, giving me one of the bottles of water. Okey dokey.
“Nah, no rodeo for me. What about you two?”
“Dude, you’re sitting with a fucking legend.”
“My bad, Austin,” Stone laughs. He has a nice laugh and a nice smile. “How is it you’re a legend exactly?”
Austin crams a piece of muffin into his mouth and mumbles around it, “Not me, dude. Her.” He gestures to me.
“Aw, Austin. You’re so sweet and modest,” I coo and pat his head.
Nonplussed, I grin at Stone and pinch Austin hard on his cheek. He lets out a squeal. “Austin just told you about me so that I would brag on him. He’s currently ranked fourth in the college bull riding circuit.”
“Damn, man,” Stone praises. I glance to Austin to see if the way Stone’s eyes light up remind him of Ransom, but I don’t see any recognition. Maybe I’m just seeing Ransom everywhere and in everyone. I’ve heard that happens when one is in lo— Whoa!
What in the ever-loving hell?
“That’s awesome. Congrats.”
“Thanks, but her boyfriend’s first.” I throw Austin a look at his not-so subtle comment. He just smirks at me. “Not to mention, ain’t nobody got nothing on Little Miss Sunshine, here. She’s first,” Austin brags.
Stone’s intense glance is eerily familiar and almost steals my breath.
What the …
seriously, does Austin not see this? “Barrels?” he asks.
“Yep,” I mutter.
We get Stone squared away, and I give him my notes to copy, making him promise not to lose them. Even though I have them typed on my computer too, I still like to have my handwritten ones for whatever reason.
Saying our goodbyes, Austin and I head out toward the dorms and apartments, but I can’t shake the feeling of déjà vu Stone treated me to.
“You wanna come up to Ransom’s now? I know he won’t mind you being early.”
“No, I need to get changed and grab Maggie anyway. I’ll meet you over there later, ‘K?”
“Later, sweet cheeks,” he says right before he licks my cheek. I barely protest. I’ve long since learned it’ll do me absolutely no good.
“Later,” I mutter to his back, already distracted by Ransom’s invitation and his demand that I wear a skirt. Is it some kind of test? Power play? I mean, what the hell does Ransom care about what I wear? Should I defy him?
Hmm
… what would he do if I did?
Chapter Four
Denver
“
W
HOA!
Y
OU’RE WEARING
a skirt?” Maggie screams when she exits the bathroom.
“What’s wrong with my skirt?” I glance down, taking in the dark, blue jean mini skirt.
“Nothing, honey. You look hot. It’s just I’ve never seen you wear a skirt. Oh, I’m gonna wear one too, then!” she squeals, clapping her hands.
I finish buttoning my navy blue, daisy-covered shirt and tuck it in before I look back at her. “Promise it looks good?”
“Oh, I promise,” she assures me. She twirls out a couple of skirts, and I agree with her about her wearing wear the cream skirt with her ivory sweater and decking it out in turquoise. Why she asks me for advice, I have no idea. I’m not that great with clothes. I just wear what I like. Speaking of like, I move to my closet and dig in the back to pull out a garment bag. Hanging it on the door, I unzip it and hear Maggie’s gasp behind me.
“Oh my God!” She moves in close and runs her hand over it, not touching it but hovering over, like she’s bestowing a blessing upon it. “Denver,” she whispers in awe. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Please say you’re gonna wear it.”
“I am. I can’t very well go out in the cold in this thing.” I said, as I flick a hand at my mini skirt. More like micro-mini, I muse, but it does touch my thighs so there’s that.
I pull the buttery-soft duster from the bag and slip my arms in it. It’s a shade lighter than my beige suede boots.
“Just … wow,” Maggie breathes, finally touching the fringe that hangs artistically from the long coat. Laughing, we exit into the hallway and run into Stephanie.