Rough Ride: A Small Town Bad Boy Romance

by Cass Kincaid

  Damn it. “I’m moving.”

  Suddenly, Jace is eerily still in front of me, and only the sputtering of the coffee pot is heard in the room. “You’re moving,” he repeats, as though testing the words on his tongue. “Where?”

  His tone makes it sounds like I’m doing something wrong by even suggesting such a thing. It makes me feel like I am, too. “Frankly, it’s none of your—”

  “Where, Izzy?”

  I huff a loud sigh. Everyone in town is eventually going to find out anyway. “Los Angeles.”

  Jace doesn’t even bother to try to hide his surprise. “Los Angeles? Izzy, that’s halfway across the damn country.”

  “Thanks for the geography lesson.”

  “But that’s not even just a city. That’s a massive city. Christ, they’ll eat a small-town girl like you alive out there!”

  “Gee, thanks for the vote of fucking confidence.” He’s got my hackles raised now.

  “Izzy, you can’t—”

  “I’m pretty sure you don’t have a say in the matter,” I interject angrily. “You forfeited that three goddamn years ago.”

  There it is. The hurt and fury I’d pent up over the years, finally directed at the man who caused it.

  “I didn’t—” Jace seems tongue tied, unsure what to say, or do. “Christ, Izzy, how have I not heard about this before now?”

  “No one knows. Just Emily. And judging by your reaction, I should’ve kept it that way.”

  His hands are raking through his hair like the movement is keeping his somehow grounded. There’s a sense of inner turmoil rolling off him in waves, which seems hardly justified to me considering he’s the one who left me here, not the other way around. “When?” he asks finally.

  “When what?”

  “When do you leave?” His eyes sweep around the room again, as though the answer lies amidst the chaotic mess.

  “Next week,” I reply, pushing by him to get a coffee mug from the cupboard behind me. “And, frankly, the sooner, the fucking better.”

  Chapter Six

  Jace

  She may as well have socked me in the gut with the weight those two little words held.

  I’m moving.

  “Isabelle, you can’t move next week.” It’s blunt and to the point, but it’s the fucking truth.

  “The hell I can’t,” she snaps back, glaring at me before purposely turning her back on me to pour herself a cup of coffee. “I don’t know who you think you are—”

  “You know exactly who I am,” I remind her.

  She shoves the coffee pot back onto its base, then carefully sets the mug down. Her hands are trembling slightly, although from anger or another emotion, I can’t tell. “Wrong,” she advises me. “I knew who you were. Once upon a time. But you destroyed that silly fairy tale, didn’t you?”

  Her eyes are blazing. In all the years I’ve known her, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such blatant ferocity coming from those depths.

  “You don’t get a say, Jace,” she continues. “I’ve been in this godforsaken town my entire life. It’s time to get out of it. Away from the bullshit, away from all the memories…” She blinks, then locks her gaze on mine. “Away from you, and every memory of you.”

  I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. It sickens me to think she hates me enough to leave her hometown. Our hometown. “Izzy, you obviously didn’t believe me back then, but I told you...I told you I would come back for you—”

  “No.” She barks the word at me, pointing a finger in my face. “Don’t you dare, Jace Andrews. You didn’t say that. What you said was, ‘You deserve better than the life I can give you, Izzy.’ I should know, believe me. Those fucking words have haunted me for three goddamn years.”

  Another punch to the gut without even touching me. “Wait. I did say that—”

  “You’re damn right you did!” She shook her head. “And over a fucking text, no less.”

  “Wait, no. Izzy, shit.” My thoughts are jumbled, and I can’t seem to make sense of them. “You did deserve better than what I could give you back then—”

  “And I deserve more than you now, Jace.” Her fiery gaze is back on me, and I’m convinced I can see the pulse beating wildly in her throat. “You came back too late,” she adds. “Way too late.”

  Something’s not adding up. But, unfortunately, I can’t think straight. I’m losing her all over again, and the realization is slicing through me with the red-hot pain of a knife. I can’t lose her again. I won’t.

  Isabelle must think I’ve chosen not to respond, and she averts her gaze, reaching for her coffee cup on the counter. I take my chances, reaching out in one foul swoop to pull her to me, crashing my mouth down onto hers. The desperate need to remind her of what we are and what we’ve always been together is all-consuming. I kiss her like my life depends on it, and in a way it does. The life I want—the life I came back for—is slipping through my hands.

  For the briefest second, I feel Izzy succumb to my kiss, her knees buckling as she leans into me despite her surprise. But it’s over just as quickly as it began, and she pushes me away, hard.

  “Jesus, Jace, what the hell’s gotten into you?” Her fingertips come up to touch her bottom lip gently, as though she can still feel my kiss. “You can’t just use the fact that I can’t seem to control myself around you to your advantage.”

  A sharp twinge of satisfaction buzzes within me at her confession. Her obvious breathlessness and the uncertainty in her voice boosts my ego, too. She’s not even sure of what she’s saying, so I don’t feel compelled to be, either. “You admit it, then.”

  “It doesn’t change things.”

  “Izzy, it changes everything!” I bellow, once more exasperated that she can’t seem to understand that we’re still the same Jace and Izzy we’ve always been. Or, maybe she just doesn’t want to. “Because it means that not a damn thing has changed. Not where you and I are concerned.”

  She’s staring hard at me, unsure what to do or say next. I’ll admit, I’ve got a few damn good ideas, but I give her time. That’s the thing with Izzy, I’ll give her everything she wants, if she’ll just let me.

  She is quiet long enough that I start to feel like I’ve actually made progress, like she’s actually weighing the things I’ve said in her mind. Then, finally, “It’s too late, Jace.”

  “It’s not.” There’s not a beat of hesitation in my reply.

  “It’s too late,” she says again, nodding as though attempting to convince herself. “You need to go.”

  “Izzy, I’m telling you—”

  A loud knock makes the walls of the old house shake, and we both snap our heads toward the door. The sight of her is marred by the gauzy translucent curtains on the door’s window, but I recognize Emily there, nonetheless.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath. I turn back to Izzy, standing at the counter. She looks shell-shocked, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. Or someone. I guess that’d be me. “Izzy, I swear to God, I never meant to hurt you the way I did. There’s been a misunderstanding—”

  Her hollow, angry laughter stops the desperate string of words coming from my mouth. “A...misunderstanding?” She laughs again, but there’s nothing humorous about it. “You shattered my heart, Jace. There’s nothing to misunderstand in that.” She points to the door. “Now, as fun as this little trip down memory lane has been, you need to leave. I’m asking you, Jace. Please, just go.”

  I take a step toward her, but Izzy immediately puts her hands up between us, blocking me. “Izzy, it’s not what you think. If you just—”

  She blinks rapidly; the tears are burning her eyelids, threatening to fall. “It’s exactly what I think,” she replies in a thick voice. “It’s over.”

  This woman has the power to hurt me in ways I never imagined. Hell, I’d thought I’d been gutted by her three years ago when she chose to change her phone number and start dating Chad. That feeling of desolation doesn’t even begin t
o stack up against what she’s putting me through right now.

  I don’t say another word, instead choosing to take a giant step away from Izzy. I’ll give her space between us. I’ll even give her a moment’s reprieve. But time, that’s what I’m running out of. So, I give her a sad smile and a nod before I leave, knowing my chances are limited to make her realize the truth—that this, us, Izzy and Jace—we’re the furthest thing from over.

  All this time. Three goddamn years.

  Izzy’s spent that entire time hating me for the fact that I broke her heart. And, by the sound of it, that’s exactly what I did.

  This thing is, I’ve spent the last three years wondering why she broke my heart and cut off all contact with me. I mean, I thought I knew, and that’s exactly why I didn’t storm back into Brooksville and fight for her the way I should’ve. Because I was a coward, and because I was hurting pretty damn bad. Thinking that the woman I loved had chosen to move on without me when the only thing I’d tried to do was build a better life to offer her…

  Yeah, I was pretty tore up. She’d broken my heart, and bruised my ego pretty fucking bad, too. So, I’d made the ridiculous choice to back down, back away, and let her have what she wanted. Freedom. From me, and from the dreams we’d once had together.

  Except, my dreams finally came true—I rode one bull after another, all the way to the top, and I won the Professional Bull Riders World Finals.

  I became a word champion, and I didn’t have Izzy by my side to share in the celebration with me. Now that I know it’s because of something so fucking stupid, the pain of that fact rocks me to my core even more. So much time wasted, when we could have been together.

  That’s why I’m here, outside Davidson’s Hardware. Emily’s father has owned it as long as I’ve been alive, and his father owned it before him. Everyone here knows that. Another thing that’s a well-known fact is that Emily’s father, Hendrick, doesn’t drive. Not since the collision that happened ten years ago that almost cost the man his life. Since then, he’s never been behind the wheel of a car. And since then, Emily has dropped him off at the store in the mornings on her way to work at the post office, and she’s picked him up every evening.

  She doesn’t deviate from that schedule today. I’d said absolutely nothing to her this morning as I passed her on the way out of Isabelle’s house, but the heavy, curious look she gave me spoke volumes. She didn’t hate me, even if her friendship with Izzy dictated that she, in fact, should. Which is why I’m taking a chance, hoping she’ll hear me out, even if Izzy won’t.

  Judging by her narrowed eyes as she climbs out of her Corolla, however, I wonder if I’ve made an error in my calculations. I climb out of my truck and slam the door. “I need to talk to you, Emily.”

  “Well, hey, Jace. Good to see you, too.”

  “Sorry.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “My manners aren’t nearly as important to me right now as this situation with Izzy.”

  “Situation.” She scoffs, laughing darkly. Damn it, I wish she and Izzy would stop doing that. “You can’t just show up here after almost three years with a big fat paycheck in your hand and think Izzy’s going to run back into your arms after what you did to her.”

  I want to argue that that’s exactly what she did, but now isn’t the time. “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, I won’t deny that. But, Emily, there’s something she doesn’t know. Hell, it’s something I didn’t know until this morning. But, my biggest mistake will be letting her run off to Los Angeles without at least explaining it to her.”

  Emily’s forehead crinkles in confusion. “You broke her into pieces,” she says after a long pause. “Are you saying there’s more to it than that?”

  We’re standing on the curb in front of the store, and I don’t care who hears me. “I’m saying I never intentionally broke up with, or hurt, Izzy. Just like she didn’t hurt me the way I thought she did.” My chest is pounding furiously against my ribcage, and all I can do is pray that she’ll listen to me. “And I can prove it.”

  Emily stares into my eyes, obviously trying to determine how much of my story is utter bullshit. Whatever she sees, it makes her sigh. “Shit,” she breathes out. “Fine, give me a couple minutes to get Dad, then you can follow me to their place. I’d say we could go to Edna’s, but Izzy’s working, and if I walk in there with you, she’ll kill us both.”

  Chapter Seven

  Isabelle

  Waking up to find Jace in my living room had been a rough start to the day. And it sure as hell didn’t get any better after that. I couldn’t focus. In the span of my eight-hour shift at Edna’s, I’d managed to spill a cup of coffee, get three orders wrong, and forget to bring condiments and utensils to a couple of tables. I wasn’t on my A-game, and my mind wasn’t on the tasks I needed to accomplish.

  My mind was on Jace. Not just on the way his eyes spoke to me, enticing me and burning into my skin. Or the way his tongue ran across his bottom lip as he drank me in with his gaze. It wasn’t even the way each muscle and contour of his hard chest and shoulders stretched the fabric of his t-shirt.

  No, it’s his words that have me faltering.

  Not a damn thing has changed. Not where you and I are concerned. You’re not over me. Just like I’ve never been over you.

  Damn it, one more week and I’d have been gone. I would’ve never had to face the likes of Jace Andrews again. Instead, he rides back into town and consumes me just by being close enough to breathe the same air. He doesn’t just create chaos for me, he is chaos. I want to hate him for it, the way I’ve told myself I did for the past three years.

  But wanting to hate someone, and actually hating them are two different things. And seeing and feeling and thinking about Jace makes me feel a lot of things, but hate isn’t one of them.

  Yeah, I hate that, too.

  I can’t wait to get home and hide within the deepest depths of my house. I’ll lock the door, draw the curtains, and medicate my overwhelmed brain by tossing a frozen pizza in the oven and watching Netflix while I drink a beer. I should be packing, but to hell with it. The mental warfare going on inside me is winning, and just for tonight, I’m going to allow myself to drown it out with mindless entertainment and carbohydrates.

  But when the clock strikes ten o’clock and I turn around to find Emily smirking devilishly at me from the other side of the counter, I groan out loud. “No,” I tell her immediately. “Whatever you have planned, I’m not going to be a part of it, Em. No, no way.”

  She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. You don’t have to be so dramatic. It’s not like we get into trouble every time I have an idea to liven this town up a bit for us.”

  I shove a handful of napkins into the dispenser on the countertop, glaring at her. “People have been stealing glances and whispering in here all godforsaken evening about Tonk’s last night. And those that didn’t whispering, flat out fucking asked,” I admonish, even though it’s not her fault.

  “Asked what?” Emily’s eyebrow arches.

  “About Jace and I.”

  “And what’d you tell ‘em?” She leans forward, grinning from ear to ear, whispering, “Did you tell them how you two desecrated the bathroom?”

  “Shut up,” I hiss, looking around to make sure no one’s paying attention to us. “Jesus, what’s gotten into you? I mean it, I’m not going out with you tonight. I need a quiet night at home.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes, alone!” I slam the dispenser in my hand down onto the counter with a bang, huffing a sigh. “I’m on the verge of a mental freaking breakdown, and you think this is funny.”

  “I don’t, I swear.” Emily holds up her hands in mock surrender. “I don’t think the fact that you’re about to have a breakdown is funny at all. What I do find funny is that Jace has you all hot and bothered, and yet you won’t admit it to yourself, let alone me. You need to think about why he’s affecting you like that, Isabelle.”

  Her use of my full first name brings me up short.
“I’m not getting into this here,” I say, my voice clipped.

  “You haven’t gotten into it for three years,” she shoots back. “Trust me, you should have.”

  I push the napkin dispenser out of the way, crossing my arms. “What the hell does that mean? And why do you sound so damn cryptic?” I’m agitated, and anyone other than Emily would’ve told me to cool my bitchiness by now. “If you have something to say, Em, just say it.”

  Emily’s crooked little grin is back in place as she slides off the stool and swipes her keys off the counter. “The only thing I’ve got to say is that I know something you don’t, Izzy. And, as your best friend, I’m telling you that I’ll be in the parking lot, waiting. Get your ass out into the passenger side of my car as soon as you’re done cleaning up. You’re going to want to hear this.”

  She turns away from me and slips out the door of the diner before I can say anything more, tugging on the chain to turn the Open sign off as she goes.

  “This better be good,” I snap, fumbling to buckle the seatbelt. Emily’s already squealing the tires on the way out of the parking lot. Wherever she’s taking us, she’s in a big fucking hurry to get there. “Christ, slow down, Em. You drive like a lunatic on a good day, but this is erratic, even for you.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures, my friend.”

  “Okay, enough with the theatrics.” I rake my hands through my hair. “Tell me what it is you think I’ve got to know.”

  “I can’t.” Emily’s eyes never leave the road in front of her, but that purse-lipped smile of hers is back in place. “I have to show you.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” I mumble, rolling my eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Maybe, but you’ll thank me.”

  “I doubt that.” I don’t even turn to look at her, instead focusing my gaze on the darkness out the passenger window, longing for my night of Netflix and beer. “Can you at least tell me where the hell we’re going?”