“This was your way out of a boring job managing a company you don’t have any interest in. It was a way to get lots of pussy and explore your sexuality. It was your way to stay tied to me, because you think you owe me for what I did for you.”
“No, that’s not—”
He holds a hand up. “It’s your rodent wheel, man, and I’m here to tell you… if you stay on that wheel, you are going to pass up something that I personally believe is the greatest thing to ever happen to you. A woman that cares for you, will love you, give you beautiful babies, and fuck you like a rock star. Who the fuck wouldn’t want that?”
“You,” I point out.
“I’m an anomaly,” he counter argues. “Unlike me, you have a heart, and it’s going to take a motherfucking beating if you let her get away.”
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the chair. I try to picture what it would mean to give this club up. No more wild nights of random, kinky fucking. No more threesomes with Bridger… except, well… maybe Callie would still want to do that. But no more pushing the envelope… not with sweet Callie.
I have to consider… what would I be giving up if I let her go?
That glorious pussy, her heart of gold, her love.
Wait? Does she love me?
I’ve done nothing to elicit that. I’ve left her in the dust so many times I can’t remember them. I’ve been trying to convince her the last few weeks to just let me fuck her on the sly without any offer of more stability.
I’m a motherfucking prick is what I am, and there’s no way in hell she could ever love me.
Giving up this club and going after her would be the biggest risk I’ve ever taken in my life. And I’d be giving up a lot without any guarantee that I’d get the girl in return.
Chapter 22
Callie
I pull open the door to The Wicked Horse and push my way inside. Some type of rock-a-billy music I don’t recognize is playing, and it’s quite packed for a Wednesday night. I push my way through the crowd, craning my neck left and right trying to find Woolf.
I still can’t believe I’m here.
I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for his crazy threat this afternoon. After I’ve been ignoring his steady stream of calls since our fight outside of my doctor’s office, he sent me a text this afternoon that said if I didn’t come and see him and give him at least fifteen minutes of my time so we could talk, he was going to camp out on my front doorstep until I talked to him. He also pointed out that meant he’d probably get shot by my dad, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
Unfortunately, I know how serious my father is and I wasn’t willing to take the risk, so I told him I’d come by The Wicked Horse at nine PM, figuring this was safe and neutral territory. No way he could seduce me with his sexy words and skilled fingers. He’d keep that rock star penis away from me in a public setting, and I’d give him his fifteen minutes.
It would kill me.
Absolutely slay me to have to be in his presence for fifteen minutes, which was going to do nothing more than tear down all the walls I had been building up against him. I’m so damn sad and miserable that we can’t be together, and I’m pissed. I’m pissed that his solution is to keep me in some dark closet like a dirty little secret so he can still fuck me.
I know I’m worth more than that, and it feels like my heart has been shredded as I realize that Woolf clearly doesn’t think I’m worth more than that.
I also know the consequences if Woolf wanted to give it a real shot with me. That would mean he’d walk away from the club and I didn’t want him to do that either. As angry as I am over the thought that I wouldn’t be the obvious choice for him, I also feel strongly in not taking away something that has brought him a lot of happiness in an otherwise pressure filled and stressful career.
So it’s going to hurt something fierce to listen to him try to talk me into an illicit relationship tonight. It’s going to hurt and I’m going to be weak and consider it, because I’m so miserable without him. Sadly, the Old Callie Hayes sometimes thinks even just a small part of Woolf Jennings would be good enough to sustain me.
Ugh… I need my head examined for even thinking like that.
As I stomp my way through the crowd, looking for a man it hurts to look at sometimes, I get angrier as I consider something.
I’ve just never really been good enough for Woolf Jennings. He turned his nose up at me when I offered him my virginity. He walked away from me the night of the branding party. He wants to keep me tucked away right now, only for his use and satisfaction.
Fucking asshole, now that I think about it.
Just as I break free from the crowd toward the end of the bar, I’ve worked up a good head of steam. And holy shit… the sight that greets me causes my annoyance to turn into blistering rage.
Woolf is leaning casually up against the wall, talking to a few people. Nothing unusual about that, except a tall, blonde woman is standing next to him with her arm casually wrapped around his waist, and his arm is slung over her shoulders. They’re all laughing at something one of the men in the group says.
I just stand there, looking at the man who doesn’t seem to want to give me up, and I have to wonder why. He’s clearly got a good and happy life going on right here. Friends to laugh with and a gorgeous woman on his arm to fuck. And man, is she stunning. Long, wavy blonde hair, perfect facial features, and a body that would put any Victoria Secret’s model to shame. She’s wearing a blood red silk camisole with black jeans tucked into black, high-heeled boots. Her nipples are pebbled and poking hard through the silky material of her shirt, and I’m sure Woolf has gotten a good gander at that.
God, I’m so stupid.
I think about snagging a beer from a nearby patron and chucking it at his head, but then tears start pooling in my eyes and I realize my aim would be way off. I start to turn on my heel just as Woolf raises his eyes and looks at me. I expect him to flush with guilt that I caught him with another woman but instead, he steps away from the blonde and smiles at me brightly in welcome.
Yeah, well, fuck you, Woolf. Not interested in that threesome.
Spinning around, I push my way back through the crowd. I elbow a few people in the ribs to get them out of my way, but the first tear spills before I even make it to the door. Just as I reach out to push my way to freedom, a hand clamps down on my arm and I’m being spun around to face a very angry Woolf.
The minute he sees the silvery streak down my cheek though, his face immediately turns to worry and he asks, “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong?
What’s wrong?
Is he fucking serious?
“Get your goddamn hands off me and just go back to the two-bit floozy who was hanging on your arm,” I shriek at him as I try to jerk away.
He blinks at me in confusion but holds me tight. “You mean Jenna?”
“Not really interested in her name,” I hiss at him and tug harder.
“Well, I want you to meet her,” Woolf says as he starts to pull me back through the crowd.
Since I have no chance of breaking free from his hold, I do the only thing I can think of. I kick out with my foot, catching him square in the back of his knee. His leg buckles and he has to release me to catch himself in the fall. I use the opportunity to jet back toward the door and almost make it before I’m being hauled up in the air, and once again, slung over Woolf’s shoulder.
Right where it all began.
He even swings me around hard and my boots hit someone, but he doesn’t care. He’s marching me straight back toward his office and from my upside-down perch, I push the hair out of my eyes and see Bridger following us in.
The minute the office door shuts behind us, Woolf lowers me to the floor and I go supreme Tasmanian devil on him, all of my anger and misery pouring out all at once. I slap his chest hard in a one-two-three combo. “You big bully motherfucker,” I yell at him. “How dare you drag me back here like a fucking caveman? I am not your
property.”
I slap at his chest again for good measure, knowing I didn’t hurt him in the slightest, and spin for the door. His arms shoot out and wrap around my waist, and I start flailing my arms and kicking my legs in an attempt to get loose. Yes, I know I’m acting like a brat, but I’m absolutely beyond reason right now. I’m so angry at him for just… just… everything, that I think I’m seriously on the verge of flipping my shit and earning me a one-way ticket to the insane asylum.
“Jesus Christ,” Woolf mutters and then grunts as my boot catches him in the shin. “Will you calm the fuck down?”
That makes me kick and punch out harder. I manage to catch him on his jaw, which is hard as a rock and hurts my knuckles bad, but he finally relents and thrusts me into Bridger’s arms.
“Hold her down,” Woolf says in a steely voice and even though I’m still fighting like a wild cat, something about those words reaches through to me.
Right down deep… between my legs.
Images of Bridger holding me down while Woolf—
Wait! No fucking way.
“Let me go,” I hiss at Bridger. “Or I’ll stomp your nuts into the ground.”
He chuckles and wraps his arms around me tighter. “Zip your lips, precious, or I’ll stick something in your mouth that will keep it occupied.”
And… did my mouth just water at the thought?
I shake my head in denial as Bridger carries me over to the couch and dumps me unceremoniously there. He glares down at me, but the little amused tilt to his lip tells me that he’s finding this funny as fuck and only trying to act bad ass. I glare back at him.
He points at me. “Keep your ass down, and I won’t have to pull out the ropes. If I have to pull out the ropes, I’ll pull out my flogger too and give your ass a workout. Now, you promised my boy here fifteen minutes and you’re going to give it to him, or I’m going to blister your skin until you’re begging for mercy. Are we clear?”
God help me, but that scares the shit out of me and turns me on at the same time. I’m afraid my voice won’t work so I just give him a nod of my head, and then turn to glare at Woolf.
He’s standing there with arms crossed over his chest, looking at me in contemplation. He even raises one hand and rubs thoughtfully at his chin. He doesn’t approach me though, and I think that’s a good idea. His nuts will thank me later.
“Are you through with your temper tantrum?” he asks me quietly.
I grunt at him in response and cross my own arms over my chest in an act of defiance, and a metaphorical pose of defensiveness. Bridger casually leans up against the wall, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans and watches this all play out with that same amused look on his face. But I see something else in his eyes… I think he wants me to flip out again so he can get his ropes.
I suppress the shudder that wants to break free.
Woolf drops his arms and walks up to me. He squats down, about an arm’s length away from me, but it brings his gaze more in line with mine. He comes down to my level, and I think he’s treating me like a wounded animal.
I bare my teeth at him.
Bridger chuckles.
Asshole.
“Callie,” Woolf says softly, and my eyes cut to him. I brace myself, because his voice sounds just too damn good. “Why did you just run away?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say with a calm voice and a tilt upward of my chin. “We’re over and I’m here to listen to you. Just forget all about how you got me in this office, and just lay it on me so I can get going.”
Woolf’s hand shoots out so fast, I can’t even react. He grabs my jaw and stands up, effectively pulling me up from the couch. He’s not hurting me, but he’s holding me the way a mama tiger would grip her cub in her jaws to get respect.
He steps in close and leans down until his lips are just a breath away from mine. My heart rate soars and my mistake is in taking a deep breath and smelling all the yummy goodness that is Woolf Jennings. I start to melt into him and my eyes flutter closed.
“Why did you run away from me?” he asks again with a hard edge to his voice.
“Because you were standing with your arm around another woman,” I grit out. “Didn’t look like our talk was really needed.”
His blue eyes seem to dig in deep to mine. I feel like he’s able to see inside and garner all my secrets from the intensity of his stare. He seems to be… searching for something.
“Why would that bother you?” he asks softly. “You’ve been telling me repeatedly that we’re through.”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
And I really don’t. I have no explanation for the pain that lanced through me when I saw Woolf with his arm around that blonde. I thought I had my feelings somewhat contained where he was concerned, but apparently not.
Woolf releases me abruptly, and I swivel my jaw tentatively. Feels fine.
He turns and walks over to the desk, picking up a folder. He holds it out to me and I take it, completely confused. As he sits back against his desk, arms crossed over his chest again, he gives a nod at it. “That woman I had my arm around is a very good friend of mine. We went to college together.”
My eyes narrow at him, and he doesn’t even look abashed when he says, “Yes, I fucked her back then, but only in college.”
He nods again toward the folder in my hand. “Jenna is also my attorney. She prepared that for me and delivered it just a little bit ago.”
Attorney?
“I don’t understand,” I mumble as I look from the folder back to Woolf.
He doesn’t enlighten me, but rather nods again toward the folder, encouraging me to open it up. His body is tense and his eyes are pinned on me, searching every line and angle of my face for a reaction. He’s watching me very carefully to see how I’ll react to what’s in my hand. I’m dreading what I’ll find in there, but my curiosity is too overwhelming.
My hand is slightly shaking with anxiety as I open the folder and stare down at a document that can’t be more than ten pages long. At the top, in all caps and centered: Business Purchase Agreement.
I look back up to Woolf, who seems poised to either pounce on me or walk out the door, I’m not sure which, but I think it hinges on my reaction to what I’m holding.
I read on, certain words jumping out at me from the haze of legalese.
Seller—Woolf Jennings…
Buyer—Bridger Payne…
The Wicked Horse and all its entities…
For the sum of $1.00…
My head snaps up and Woolf leans forward a bit, looking at me hungrily.
“You’re selling The Wicked Horse to Bridger?” I ask stupefied.
“Sold,” he clarifies. “All the documents have been signed already. Bridger already owned fifty percent of it. I just sold my entire portion to him.”
“For one dollar?” I ask, still thinking there’s some sort of joke here.
Woolf just shrugs noncommittally, apparently not wanting to hash business details with me.
“I don’t understand,” I mumble again… for the second time, and I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be smarter than this but it makes no sense to me. “This is your dream. What makes you happy. Why would you ever let it go?”
Woolf doesn’t answer me but instead turns to Bridger. “Mind giving us some privacy?”
Bridger pushes away from the wall and gives a fist bump to Woolf. He gives me a pointed look before walking out the door, and I think it was a warning of some type… maybe not to hurt his buddy?
“This was my dream,” Woolf says matter-of-factly as he pushes away from the desk and walks up to me. “It’s what made me happy. But you want to know why I’m letting it go?”
I nod… words stuck deep in my throat.
His hand reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind me ear. His eyes roam over my face and he has a wistful smile on his face. “I’m letting it go because you’re my dream now and you’re what makes me happy. And I can’t have The Wicked
Horse and you, so I have to let one go, and here’s what I know for fucking sure… I can’t do without you. It was sort of a no brainer for me.”
“Whoa,” is all I can say as I sink back down onto the couch, my legs feeling like jelly. I look down at the agreement one more time before closing the folder and setting it down beside me. When I look back up to Woolf, I say, “I know this is the point in the conversation where I’m supposed to be all altruistic and insist you not give up your dream for me, but fuck if I’m going to do that.”
Woolf just blinks at me for a moment, then he throws his head back and laughs. When he looks back down at me, his eyes are shining with relief and happiness. That lasts just a moment before the smile morphs into something that borders on hunger.
He leans over me and my heart starts thumping again. In one fluid movement, he places a knee on the couch and pushes me back with a hand on the center of my chest so I lay backward. I flip my legs up onto the leather and he settles on top of me, holding his weight on his elbows.
We just stare at each other a moment, taking in all the ramifications of what this means to us.
I don’t think either of us are at a loss for words, but perhaps Woolf may be a bit reserved in his emotions at this point, so I decide to lead the way. I touch his lips with my fingertips, and then slide them along his stubbled jaw. “I’ve loved you for a very long time. Ever since I was old enough to see you as a man. It was a different type of love back then… young and foolish, but I loved you then. Always… to some extent since. And I love you now in a deeper way, and I don’t even have words to tell you what this means to me.”
Woolf lets out a whooshing breath of relief and his facial features relax. I had not realized how tense he was, and that he obviously needed to hear those words. He drops his forehead to mine and whispers to me. “I love you, Callie. I never thought I would love anyone, and fuck… I fell hard and fast for you. It scares the shit out of me, but it also feels so very fucking right. I would give up every single possession in my world if it meant I could have you.”
The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series) Page 20