Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series)

by Halat, Lynetta

  I rein in my surprise and temper the look of adoration for his ride and his taste in music before I straighten to take him in. He’s got his hands on his hips and is wearing a shit-eating grin. I glance up to see gorgeous, sea-green eyes looking at me from under a mud-colored cowboy hat that matches his t-shirt. It pulls tight over all those muscles that I’d only gotten a glimpse of last night. He is just too masculine for words. On second thought, There’s a word for it. I think back to the werewolf romance I read last summer … Alpha. My body hums in agreement.

  He asked me a question. I think. Umm … oh, yeah. “Nope, don’t want your ride.” I gesture at my truck indicating I was all set there. “But don’t think I’m above lifting those eight-tracks from you,” I joke.

  “Oh, yeah. A fan of the classics?”

  I nod my head, but mockingly chastise, “It looks like you might need to be schooled, though. I didn’t see any Lynyrd Skynyrd, and everyone knows you can’t have a classic rock collection without them.”

  Sauntering over to my side of the truck, he doesn’t pause in his movement, forcing me to step aside unless I want him plowing over me. I step out of his way with a smirk that he immediately returns. He opens the door with a creak, reaches in without looking, and produces an eight-track. “What’s this?” he asks with a gleam in his eye.

  Glancing down, my grin widens before I bring my eyes back to his. He's just too cocky. I have to take him down a notch. “Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Bayou Country,” I answer through my smile, knowing full well he’s holding Lynyrd Skynyrd's first album in his hand.

  He looks down quickly to see if he’s made a mistake, and I burst out laughing. “Ah, you’re good, Denver.” He shakes the eight-track at me. “You had me thinking my game was off.” He laughs with me as he replaces Lynyrd Skynyd in its rightful slot. “What are you doing out here so early?” He closes his door and reaches around me to pull out a new horse blanket from the bed of his truck.

  Placing my sunglasses on the top of my head, I look up at him. “I came to ride some and visit with my horses before practice. You?”

  “Same.”

  “Bull riders don’t need horses, Ransom,” I joke.

  “True, but I board my horse here so that I can ride whenever I want.”

  “Ah, I understand.”

  “I bet you do,” he says with a nod. “So a 1971 F-100, huh?” he asks as he pats my truck.

  “Yep, what year’s yours?”

  “Same.”

  “I figured. They look identical.”

  “Yours sure is souped up,” he says with a whistle as he looks her over.

  “Yeah, my dad fixed her up for me, and I drove her back here from Mississippi.”

  His eyes narrow with doubt. “By yourself?”

  “Uh, yeah. Look, I’m gonna get my horses saddled up, all right?” Ransom nods and walks with me to the barn.

  I breathe deeply when we hit the barn. The sweet smell of clover and manure and horse sweat may sound disgusting to some, but it sings home to me. Ransom ducks down one hall while I keep going straight. I click my tongue as I get closer to Liberty’s and Indy’s stalls. It doesn’t take long for their heads to poke out when they recognize my voice. “Hey, pretty girls,” I coo at them. “Did y’all miss me?” Their heads move up and down in rapid succession, reminding me of bobble head dolls since that’s all I can see of them. “I missed y’all too.”

  Taking a few minutes with each of my girls, I pat them down, check their hooves, and chat them up some. “Who wants to go for a ride this morning, huh?” I decide to take Indy out since I’d ridden Liberty most recently, and she would be getting most of the practice today anyway. She was not going to be happy at being left behind.

  After getting Indy saddled up, I lead her back through the barn and out into the yard. The owner had sort of shown me around when I dropped my horses off, but I’m not really sure how long the trails are or where they lead. That thrills me to no end because I can’t wait to get out there when we don’t have practice so I can explore. A quick ride would have to suffice today. Putting my foot in the stirrup, I pull myself up and swing my leg over Indy just as Ransom comes walking out with his beast of a jet-black horse, the white star between his eyes in stark contrast to the shiny darkness of his coat. He is one of the proudest, most beautiful horses I’ve seen in a long time.

  Of course, the thrill-seeking, bull rider John Ransom rides a stallion. I ask, “How many hands tall? He’s massive.”

  “He’s about 16.”

  “A little over, I think.” He just nods at me. “Hey, stud, what’s your name?”

  Ransom laughs as his horse starts nodding at me. “Watch out. He’s a flirt.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  Stopping a good distance away, Ransom calls his name and tells him to be still. “Ah, Night as in dark or Knight as in warrior?” I ask.

  “Warrior,” he says as he swings into the saddle. I have to take a deep breath to calm my erratic heart when he throws his leg over the powerfully muscled animal.

  “I like it. It’s fitting. He seems noble.”

  He nods toward Indy. “I see you’ve got your own version of Trigger there.”

  I laugh and nod, giving her a pat down. “She does look like Trigger, but prettier, huh Indy?” She gives me a whinny and tosses her head. She has that same golden coat with a blonde mane and tail like the horse Roy Rogers made famous. And Liberty is a larger version of her. Me and palominos go back a long way.

  “Wanna head up one of the small trails?” Ransom asks.

  I try for nonchalance, even though my heart is about to beat out of my chest at the thought of being alone with him. “Sure, but is your stallion gonna mind his manners with my mare?”

  Ransom laughs lightly. “Yeah, he’s pretty calm. And I don’t think Indy’s in heat or he’d be prancing around for her as we speak, wouldn’t you boy?” He thumps Knight’s neck. “He’s older, but still has a way with the ladies,” he says with a wink at me.

  I don’t respond because my mouth’s gone dry imagining Knight’s owner having his way with the ladies. Scratch that—one particular lady. He could have his way with me any day. Where the hell did that come from?

  As he spurs Knight into action, Indy and I follow.

  For several minutes, the trail is narrow, and I ride behind him, studying him quietly and thinking through things. Last night, Greer had me pretty shaken on my belief that I can’t commit to something more with him. I came to college seeking a change. I thought I could find someone to hang out and forget with. Someone who’d leave his feelings out of it like I do. But, what if, accepting everything Greer has to offer may be the change I need?

  The burning question now, though—is it too late for there to be an us? I always hoped that, when I felt strong enough for a real relationship, Greer would be the one. Then I went and caused us both so much pain. Would he really be able to handle us just picking up and moving forward? Was I good with that? None of it could be erased, but could the hurt lessen with time?

  When the path widens, Ransom slows Knight down until Indy and I are next to them. He strikes up an easy conversation about school and the different titles I won over the years. He asks me about all the records I set. It’s funny because each time I give him a fact, he nods like I’m confirming it for him—like he’s long since known the answer. Our conversation flows easily. He asks how I’ll be getting to all the competitions, and when I tell him I’ll be driving my horses and myself since my mom runs our ranch, he frowns at me. I backtrack and assure him that she’ll probably attend some of them, just not all. No one really needs to be privy to the ugliness that is my home life.

  And that’s enough about me. “How’d you know you wanted to be a bull rider?” I ask.

  “Ah, I don’t know that it was so much a want as a need. It ate at me until I did it. Now it’s got such a hold, I can’t imagine doing anything different. I always loved everything about rodeo, but there was just something special
about watching bull riders get ready to take on the beast. And the high I felt when they hit that eight second mark?” He shakes his head, seemingly with reverence. “It was indescribable. Is indescribable. Anyway, my dad took me to rodeo a bunch when I was a little kid. It was our thing.” He looks pained for a minute, making me sense there’s more to that story.

  I’m curious but don’t want to pry. To distract him, I offer up my secret desire. Changing the subject, I tell him about my sheep-riding dalliances of days long ago.

  He gets a kick out of that. “Mutton Bustin,’” he laughs lightly. “I can see you holding your own.”

  “I did,” I brag. “I wanted to be a bull rider when I was little,” I add. Still long for it.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep, like I said, I used to ride sheep at junior rodeo, but that’s as far as I got. Barrel racing is as close as I can get to that kind of high. I do love it, but that never stopped me and Greer from rigging up a barrel between some trees and trying to stay on for eight seconds while the other one pulled and yanked on the ropes. For the record, I generally stayed on, and Greer did not.”

  The laugh I hoped to elicit from him still shocks me because it’s unguarded and genuine, and I’m ecstatic like I just won a huge prize. “I can only imagine. So … you and Greer? Just friends?”

  Now I’m the one who is uncomfortable. I shift in my saddle a bit and try to be as honest as possible. “We were a little more than friends for a while. He wants that back. But no matter my decision, he’ll always be my friend.”

  “Sounds like you have a tough choice ahead of you.”

  “That I do.”

  After a few minutes, the trail loops around to take us back to the barn. We take the rest at a light canter. When it opens up to a field, Indy and I scoot past Ransom and Knight. When I look back, Knight is nudging Indy’s hindquarters with his nose. Indy gives an indignant snort. I can’t help the giggle that escapes me.

  “That’ll teach you to sway your ass in his face,” Ransom says with a wicked laugh, making me laugh harder.

  “Don’t blame her,” I say with mock indignation. “She’s just minding her own business. She can’t help it if she’s sexy.”

  I look toward the barn and spot Greer sitting on his tailgate with Shadow saddled up and ready to go. His eyes are pinned, not on me, but on Ransom, a curious expression in them. I don’t even pretend not to know that he’s jealous.

  “Thanks for the ride, Ransom. I’ll see ya,” I throw over my shoulder. Kicking Indy into a trot, I head toward Greer. “Hey, Greer! Wait till you see the trails,” I call out, hoping to distract him. It works. His eyes shift toward mine, and a smile lights up his face as he takes me in.

  “MAGGIE, THAT WAS an incredible ride,” I praise, as she joins me outside the arena. She just completed practice runs on her new back-up horse that she’s been training. He’s an impressive red Quarter Horse.

  “Thanks,” she says with a grin. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”

  “You’re doing a great job with him. With a little more experience, he’ll be hard to beat.”

  “Yeah, I’m proud of him. I trained him from a colt. My dad trained Starlight.” Starlight was the strawberry roan that she rode earlier. Together, they are unbeatable. When I tell her that, she just laughs at me.

  Liberty and I make our way to the arena. The closer she gets, the more she prances, and I’m raring to go too. I lean down and murmur, “This is what we live for, huh girl? Wanna show ‘em what we got?” I run my hand over her neck to calm her a little of the flurry of emotions she displays from her pep talk.

  Once inside the arena, we do a couple of tight circles while I gauge her readiness. When I feel it, I let her go. Liberty darts to the first barrel on the right. I shift the reins so that she knows we want a tight pocket. Her head slides to the left, and I remind her to keep it right. I sit my heels back in the stirrups as far as they’ll go and squeeze with my legs to hold on as we round the first barrel. A whisper of the barrel brushes against my calf as we head toward the second.

  She does much better on the second barrel, which is great, but she knows how important that first barrel is, so we’ll be going again in a minute to get that one right. As she rounds the second, I click my tongue for speed. She immediately obliges me.

  As we approach the third barrel, I turn her just a smidge too wide and scold myself. She snorts at me. “Sorry, girl,” I apologize, as we correct and sprint around barrel three, completing the cloverleaf pattern of the barrels. As soon as she’s cleared it without even a hint of touch of barrel, I lean in as far as I can go to lessen as much wind resistance as possible. When we clear the timer, I glance over and read it. Shit.

  Chapter Six

  Ransom

  SHE’S WITHOUT A doubt the most beautiful rider I’ve ever seen. And her spunk? Holy shit. It’s not arrogance. She’s just that good and is that confident about it. I can’t think of anything sexier.

  When I saw her ride in Texas last spring, I was intrigued. When I officially met her last night, I was encouraged. But ever since I saw her checking out my truck this morning, I’m convinced she’s the girl I want to break all my rules for.

  Last night, when she got pushed into me, all I could smell were daisies and sunshine … and those eyes. I shake my head at myself. I got lost in those warm, honeyed eyes of hers. We just started to have a promising conversation when she spotted Greer. Sucks.

  As she prepares to take her second practice run with Liberty, I watch in awe as I recognize the same sort of pattern that I take up with my bulls. She waits, she feels, she assesses, then she fucking goes for it. She’s intuitive yet knowledgeable. When she senses Liberty’s readiness, she doesn’t hold back. She rounds the first barrel, with a grin this time. I could tell she wasn’t quite happy with her first run, which is amusing, because she outrode everyone who came before her, and not by just a little bit. When she takes the second barrel even faster than she took it the first time, my eyes widen. She never touches the saddle horn. She hangs on with her feet and her legs as Liberty almost lays them flat going around the barrels. Liberty digs so deep that chunks of dirt spray the fence in her wake. Her tiny grin gets a little bigger as she sprints off to the third. This time, she has the right space between the horse and the barrel to make the perfect pocket. She knows it, and I know it. And as she turns back toward me to head out, her grin is full blown. Denver and her mare make a pretty picture with their blonde hair flowing behind them as they sprint toward the gate. I don’t even look at her time because the smile on her face tells it all. She beat her last time.

  An elbow jabs in my side, and Austin whistles. “Holy fuck,” he chimes in wonder. “That girl. That girl’s good. And F.I.N.E. fine. A fine piece of ass, I tell ya. Oh, I bet she’d give me a wild ride.” This is close to what he’s been saying about most of the girls all morning. But when he says it about Denver, it’s a lot more enthusiastic.

  Before I can say anything or punch the shit out of him, the anger radiating from Greer, who’s been standing a couple feet away, surrounds us. He was engaged in a conversation before Austin’s loud proclamation. I stay quiet, curious to hear what he has to say.

  “Hey, peckerhead,” Greer calls out.

  “What, man?” Austin answers, unruffled. That’s because he knows he is, in fact, a peckerhead. I can’t help but grin and have to firmly bite my tongue to keep from laughing.

  “See that girl there who just rode?” Greer asks with a gesture in Denver’s direction.

  Still oblivious to Greer’s pissed-off tone, Austin shouts, “Hell, yeah! That’s who I’m talking about. She’s shit-hot.”

  Greer strides over our way a bit but doesn’t lower his voice, wanting, I’m sure, to make his stance known to every horny cowboy within a hundred mile radius. “That girl is special,” he says. That throws me. I expected him to say she’s mine and stay away. That’s what most guys in his position would say. “She doesn’t need a no-count peckerheaded cowboy�
�—the way he emphasizes boy almost makes me lose it again—“like you leering at her while she goes about her business. You got me? Keep your eyes to yourself. Keep your hands to yourself. Most importantly, keep your dick to yourself.”

  Austin throws his hands out like he’s indicating his innocence. “Aw, now. No harm in looking, Greer. You didn’t say shit when we were checking out those other girls.”

  “Like I said, she’s not just another girl. So hands off.”

  “Well, cowboy, let me assure you,” Austin says as he gestures toward his manhood. “When it comes to my hands and my dick, they only go near the girls who are wanting it. So if it gets that far, it’s ‘cause she’s asking for it. And I don’t think I’ll need to be answering to you when it comes to that.”

  Greer lunges toward Austin, but I step between them before he can get in Austin’s face. “All right, that’s enough. Austin, quit trying to start shit.” I glance over my shoulder at Greer. “Greer, Denver’s tough enough to take up for herself. And I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate you standing guard around her.” I pat Austin on the shoulder and turn him back toward the arena to watch the next cowgirl.

  “Yeah, boss,” Austin grumbles. I turn toward Greer and raise my eyebrows when I see him staring me down now.

  He has the nerve to hold a finger up in my face. “Don’t kid yourself thinking you know what she would or would not want. You had one ride together. That’s it.”

  My eyebrows shoot up further in surprise. “Whoa now, you sound like a jealous boyfriend. And from what Denver told me, y’all are just friends.” For some reason, the fact that he considers Denver his foregone conclusion rubs me the wrong way. Probably because I sensed her doubt about them as a couple when we were talking, not to mention the little fact that I’m set on making her mine.