by T. S. Joyce
“Awwww, babe,” Raven murmured, slipping into her mate’s lap. “Do you want to sing with me?”
Dead sniffed. “Can we sing the ‘Thong Song’?”
Raven looked all mushy and nodded her head, cupped his hairy face and said, “Of course, we can.”
Two Shots stared at Dead with the most tired expression Quickdraw had ever seen. “I need another drink.”
“I’ll buy it for you!” Dead yelled. “I’m buying. Here is my money.” He slapped a twenty on the table in front of Two Shots. “I’m buying.”
“You’re so fuckin’ weird,” Two Shots muttered as he grabbed the money and pulled Cheyenne by the hand toward the bar.
Annabelle was wearing that pretty smile again, and her cheeks were even pinker now. “That was so fun,” she whispered, leaning into him. “We really just did that. You really sang with me.”
Quickdraw chuckled and draped his arm around her shoulders. God, she smelled good. Warmth tingled up his arm from where his skin touched hers. Her tits pushed up against whatever black-lace bra she was wearing. The edge of the lace peeked out right at her cleavage.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Nothing sweet. Thinking about pumping my dick into the crack between your tits until I come all over your throat.” He gripped the back of her hair and leaned in, whispered against her ear. “There’s nothing that would make me happier than watching my cum run down the sides of your neck. These boys in here can watch you all they want. They can think you’re a rare beauty, because you are. But I’m the one who gets to take you home and make you feel good. That’s what I’m thinking about.”
When he eased back, her eyes were round and her full lips were slightly open with shock, and then the naughtiest smile turned her lips up so slowly. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
God, she was so sexy.
He could smell her want now, her desire. He bet he could have her screaming his name in ten strokes in the bathroom. But as much as he wanted to fuck her like some rutting animal, he also wanted more.
So he leaned in and kissed her on the lips, just a soft peck, instead of taking her in the bathroom, locking the door, pulling her panties down, and shoving his swollen cock deep inside her.
Because he was a gentleman.
For now.
Chapter Seven
Annabelle was high.
Now, she’d never actually been high because she’d made a promise to her parents when she was eight that she would never smoke anything and she’d stuck to it, but this had to be what being high felt like.
She was all floaty and happy, and none of the things she’d been worried about a few days ago mattered right now. Early dawn light cast the bedroom in gray hues, and she stretched her toes against the warm covers. She hadn’t slept that good in a month.
Rolling over in Quickdraw’s bed, Annabelle sniffed his pillow like the psychopath that she was and smiled sleepily. She sat up and craned her neck to the side, trying to see the couch where Quickdraw had slept last night, but all she could see through the open bedroom doorway was the small kitchen. He must’ve been sleeping in since he was so quiet.
Last night, he’d brought her here to grab her suitcase, then offered to take her to a hotel. And when she’d decided to stay in the RV, Quickdraw had given her his bedroom, no pressure for anything more, and no weirdness.
Now, one might think that was a rejection, but he’d cuddled her for a few minutes until she’d gotten tired, and then told her straight-up that he couldn’t wait to fuck her again when the time was right. Then he’d kissed her forehead, painstakingly tucked her into his soft gray comforter like a little burrito, and told her, “I really like you,” before he turned off the light and left the room.
That man didn’t leave any room for an imaginative girl like her to feed insecurities.
She really appreciated that about him. He stated how he felt and what his intentions were, and that was that.
And now she was all mushy gushy with that first-love feeling orbiting her heart. How could she miss him this much when he was just in the next room?
She strained her ears. Quickdraw was a really quiet sleeper.
She listened for his breathing but didn’t hear anyone else in the RV. The only heartbeat she heard was her own. She scented the air, but she didn’t smell him. Only the remnants of him. “Quickdraw?”
No answer.
She pushed off the bed and padded into the living room, but his couch bed was made, complete with folded blankets and pillow resting on the farthest cushion. On the kitchen counter was a note, held in place by a cannister of coffee grounds. She plucked it out and read it to herself.
Gotta practice. There are some chutes near the arena that Cheyenne reserved for us. Me and the boys headed out early before the camera crews wise up. I don’t like practicing in front of people. You would be okay though. I came in earlier to wake you up and see if you wanted to go, but you were sleeping so good, I felt bad waking you. I have interviews starting at ten. I know you probably don’t have any interest in that, but the girls are going. Nah, fuck that. I’m asking because I want you to go. If you want to, be ready by nine and I’ll stop by and pick you up. Either way, I’m bringing you breakfast.
I have a creepy admission. I laid by you for an hour this morning.
Don’t run.
Quickdraw
He’d laid by her? Had he cuddled her? Had he big-spooned her? How had she slept through that?
One glance at the microwave clock said it was eight o’clock. Okay, she had an hour to get ready. No, she wasn’t interested in the people or the notoriety or the attention on Quickdraw. That was actually something that made her step back. But she did care about spending time with him. And if he wanted to include her in this side of his life, she wanted to learn everything.
She hopped in the shower, and by the time she got out, Cheyenne was knocking on Quickdraw’s door.
Annabelle answered in her towel. “Hey, Cheyenne! Quickdraw isn’t here right now.”
“Oh, I know,” Cheyenne said with a giggle. “That man better be practicing and warming up those muscles. The boys are all at the bucking chutes and so is Raven. She’s going to be bucking in the finals, too. I came to check on you.”
“Check on me?”
“Yeah.” Cheyenne looked around. “This is a lot. And you’re coming in on finals, which is even more intense, and I didn’t want you getting overwhelmed. Oh, and I got you something. It’s not much,” she said over her shoulder as she reached outside the front door for something on the ground. It was a basket of different flavors of beef jerky. “I asked the Kaid brothers what I should give a werewolf, and Wes Kaid just said, ‘Meat.’”
Annabelle laughed and sat on the couch in her towel, rifled through the different flavors. “This is so nice of you, Cheyenne, but you didn’t have to get me a present.”
“Well, it has to be weird for you to come here and see Raven’s new life. And her being friends with someone else, too. I would feel strange if I watched someone I knew my whole life create an entirely new existence. I guess I didn’t want you thinking I’m out to steal your friend. I really liked hanging out last night and getting to know you better.” Cheyenne shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. “I don’t really have a lot of friends. I mean outside of this herd. And you’re special to Raven and Quickdraw, so I guess…”
“You guess what?”
“I guess I want to be okay by you.”
Okay, respect for Cheyenne for coming to her and having this talk. Annabelle pursed her lips. “I do really love meat.”
Cheyenne gave her a bright smile.
“Want to hang out with me while I get ready?” Annabelle asked. “Quickdraw is coming back to pick me up in half an hour for interviews.”
“Absolutely. Also, I’m gonna bum a ride from you so I don’t have to take Two Shot’s truck. That thing is a beast to park. He’s staying up at the chutes with Dead and Raven to finish practice.”
<
br /> “Uuuuh, of course you can ride with us. You’re queen bee around here. You call the shots.”
“Nah. I’m queen bee with me and Two Shots. And sometimes I can get the boys to do their interviews without throwing punches or showing up six beers deep. You’re queen to Quickdraw. I can tell these things.”
Heat crept into her cheeks. “I really like him.”
“I know, girl. I saw your eyes on him last night. I’ve been there.”
“It’s scary diving in.”
Cheyenne sat on the couch beside her and nodded. “Terrifying. Two Shots killed my late husband. He was a rider who drew Two Shots, and Two Shots crushed him.”
“Oh, my God,” Annabelle whispered.
“Yeah. It was an accident, but still…what right did I have to move on with the man who killed my late husband? What right?”
“Every right if the both of you are happy.”
Cheyenne smiled. “Exactly. The things you see tonight? The attention, the camera flashes, the video, and him up on the big screens, that’s just his job. The real Quickdraw would rather be here, relaxing in his little space, living a simple life. Hell, the man won’t even post on his social media. I have to do it all for him.”
Annabelle huffed a laugh. Sounded about right.
“He’s a good guy,” Cheyenne said. “I mean, he’s a pain in my ass and fights way too damn much, about ninety percent of the time he’s terrifying, and I feel sorry for every rider who draws him. His manners could use a brush up, and he’s a monster to manage on interview day, but at his core…deeeeeep, deep down…he’s good.”
“I think I’m pregnant.” Annabelle clapped her hand over her mouth and muttered behind the fleshy barrier, “I don’t know why I just said that.”
Cheyenne sat there frozen. “Oh, my gosh,” she whispered. “Pregnant?”
“I mean, probably not, but maybe. I can’t change. My damn eyes just stay blue, and I’m late on my period. I really like Quickdraw, but he doesn’t want kids ever, or commitment, and I don’t know what I’m doing.” Tears burned her eyes as she raggedly admitted that last part again. “Cheyenne, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Holy shit.” Cheyenne’s pretty eyes were round as saucers. “Do you know who the dad is?” she asked carefully.
“Of course, I do.” Oh God. “I haven’t slept with anyone since my ex, and he was a seven-year relationship. After him? There’s only been Quickdraw.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes closed and let off a sigh.
“I was with him one night. When I came to see Raven buck. One night, and…” She gulped. “Well, can you say something? I feel like you’re disappointed or something.”
“Not at all in any way. Just surprised.” Cheyenne squared her shoulders and grabbed Annabelle’s hands. “Are you happy?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I am. It might not even be a thing, you know.”
“You haven’t taken a test?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because then it will be real.” There it was. The real reason why she was putting this off. “I thought if I came here, I would figure my life out, you know? But now I’m just more confused.”
“You haven’t told Quickdraw?”
Pursing her lips, Annabelle shook her head. “He doesn’t want kids, Cheyenne. He was open about that. He doesn’t want them ever.”
“Ooooh nooo. Okay, what does Raven say?”
“I haven’t told anyone. Only my maker because he guessed I might be.”
Cheyenne released her hands and scrubbed her face. “Okay. Okay! Even if you are, this is amazing. It’s amazing, Annabelle. Do you know how many things have to go right in the body for a miracle like this to happen? A million. If you are pregnant, there’s a reason for it. I truly believe that. There’s a reason for everything.”
“What should I do?” Annabelle whispered, because it felt so damn good to tell someone. Someone safe, who didn’t have a stake in this either way. Someone who was neutral.
“You should take a test. Then you’ll know for sure and you can start preparing either way. I can be there if you want. It’s a simple test, pee on a stick, and then we know if the herd is growing or not.”
“The herd,” she whispered.
“Yeah, Annabelle. No matter what Quickdraw’s feelings are, that bull calf, or wolf pup, is going to be his. By default, by blood, your baby will be a part of this herd. He’s gonna have backup, okay? You’re going to have backup.”
“Yeah.” Annabelle nodded and swallowed hard. Backup sounded good. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take a test. Maybe not right this second because we have interviews to get to. Maybe tonight.” She grinned but was pretty sure it looked like a grimace. “Or tomorrow. The next day at the latest.”
Cheyenne squeezed her hands. “Putting off a test won’t make it less real.”
She was right. She was so right. “I don’t have a job right now. Or any income coming in. I am in a studio apartment in Boise without a room for a nursery. I don’t have any light socket covers or like…bottles and boob pumps. Those little baby toenail clippers? I don’t have those either.”
“Well, Quickdraw can help with that stuff.”
“No. God, no. Cheyenne, he’s about to be rich. Maybe he’s already rich, and what does this look like I’m doing?”
Cheyenne shook her head and looked confused.
“It looks like I’m trapping him right as he’s making a run to win this whole circuit.” A pair of tears streaked down her face. “I wouldn’t do that to him.”
“Well…maybe he’ll lose,” Cheyenne said brightly.
“I would never wish that on him.”
“Me neither.” Cheyenne looked out the RV window. “Okay, maybe take a test, and if you aren’t pregnant, then okay! But if you are, maybe tell him after his event and give him the choice to stay or go. And if he chooses to go, I’ll just murder him, no big deal.”
Surprised, Annabelle belted out a laugh. It was one of those thick sob-laughs. “No murdering my potential baby-daddy.”
“Plan—I’ll pick you up a couple different kinds of tests after the interviews, and I’ll be discreet as hell. We’ll see what’s going on with your wolf and go from there. Deal?”
“Yes.” Okay, this wasn’t so scary now that Cheyenne knew. That anyone knew, really. This had been a heavy secret to keep. She was realizing that now as some of the weight she was carrying lifted.
Cheyenne stood. “I’m going to research nearby pharmacies, but I left my phone in the RV.”
“Cheyenne?”
“Yeah?” she asked at the door.
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, Annabelle, that’s your story to tell either way.”
“Thank you.”
Cheyenne frowned, her delicately arched eyebrows drawing down. “For what?”
“For not judging me.”
“You’re a grown-ass woman perfectly capable of having and raising a happy baby, whether the dad decides to be involved or not. There’s so many in your same boat, Annabelle. You aren’t alone. It’s scary now because there’s uncertainty, but it won’t be scary forever. And I think Quickdraw will surprise you. I mean if you are pregnant. I think everything will be okay.”
Everything will be okay.
All right. Maybe that’s what Annabelle had needed to hear because, now, things didn’t seem so overwhelming. It was time to stop putting off her life and start figuring everything out.
Chapter Eight
This was a completely foreign world.
The media was a circus in itself. A dozen reporters and interviewers were calling out questions to the riders and bulls sitting behind a long table in a conference room.
Quickdraw was sitting between Two Shots and Dead, leaned back in his chair, his massive arms crossed over his chest, making him look roughly the width of a building, and he was glaring at each interviewer when they asked a question.
So far, he’d been asked thre
e questions.
The first one: Do you wear any lucky underwear or socks the day of an event?
He’d just stared at the interviewer until everyone moved on.
The second question: What will you do with the money if you win tonight?
He’d literally yawned and looked over at Annabelle like he would rather be turned upside down in a Porta Potty than be here.
The third question he’d done better at, probably because Cheyenne had given him three seconds of ignoring the question—Are you nervous about Lee Bristol drawing you?—before she’d used his middle name. “Quickdraw Burtlebee Slow Burn!” she barked out. “Answer the damn question.”
He’d blinked slowly and then offered the most dramatic eyeroll ever, leaned forward, tapped the microphone with his index finger twice, ignored the screech sound the microphone made, and then answered, “No.”
Annabelle pursed her lips and tried not to giggle. Cheyenne’s face was turning so red, and beside Quickdraw, Dead brayed a single laugh.
“Wait.” Two Shots interrupted the muttering of the interviewers. “I thought your middle name was Slow. Last name Burn.”
“I made up his middle name,” Cheyenne muttered. “He’s pissing me off, so I wanted to piss him off back.”
“He looks like he cares a ton,” Dead quipped from where he was separating Skittles into piles based on color. He shoved all the yellow ones at Quickdraw.
Quickdraw couldn’t look more bored if he tried. Was he…? Was he falling asleep?
“You can have these. They’re gross,” Dead told him as an interviewer called out a question for First Time Train Wreck sitting at the end of the table. “I don’t like the yellows, and I usually give them to Cheyenne, but she made me promise not to say ‘fuck’ in these interviews.”
“Dead!” Cheyenne barked.
“Aw, fuck it all. I’m sorry.” Dead hung his head. “Aw, fuck.”
Raven was on his other side, hand clasped over her mouth, staring ahead, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“At least I didn’t bring a flask to the interviews this time,” Dead called to Cheyenne. “I listened to you.” But he reached under the table and brought up a full bottle of whiskey and four shot glasses. No, it wasn’t a flask. It was worse.