12. Brynne

Chapter 12

Brynne

I didn't ask questions as Booker carried me up the steps to the porch, then shoved his way inside the house. My body was still reeling from the orgasm they'd rung from me, and I was silently thankful for not having to walk on my own. I hadn't meant for my sitting on Austin's lap to turn into what it did. I'd only meant to make Booker a little jealous. Make him regret walking away from me all those times. From the way he held me now, it seemed to do the job, but not in the way I intended.

I wouldn't complain about the two of them having their way with me, though. I'd never experienced an orgasm so powerful. But I was quickly coming to find that Booker made my body feel things it never had before. I wasn't sure if the intensity of my orgasm came from the two of them or just Booker alone. He'd looked so…possessive. Like he wanted to lay claim to me.

And I wanted to let him.

He carried me up the wide staircase, but instead of turning down the hall in the direction of my room, he went the opposite way.

"Where are you taking me?"

His grip on me softened the slightest bit, like he didn't want me scared of what he was doing. After the experience by the fire, I was glad for it. My body was exhausted.

He brought us into a massive room, a king-sized bed directly in the center with posts on all four sides. Rather than respond, he laid me on the comforter, then crossed the open space to the attached bathroom, disappearing inside.

The sound of spraying water filled the silence, and I sat up, staring at the open doorway. He walked by the opening twice, once carrying a towel, and the second time two bottles. Then, he reappeared, crossing to the dresser.

He rifled through it like it was his own, and then it hit me. I was in his room.

Finding whatever he was looking for, he tossed two articles of clothing on the bed, then faced me. "Shower's warming up. There's a towel, some shampoo and conditioner, and body wash is in the shower. You can wear these when you're done."

I eyed the clothes. They looked to be a black shirt and gray sweatpants.

"I have clothes in my room."

He simply stared at me. "And I'm telling you you'll wear these when you're cleaned up."

He headed toward the door we'd come through.

"Wait."

He paused with a hand on the knob, looking over at where I still sat on the bed.

"Where are you going? "

"Got a ranch to take care of, Darlin'."

The words unspoken rang loud and clear. He'd paused that just to bring me in here. He could have easily let me walk inside on my own, shower in the hall bathroom, and take care of myself. But instead, he'd left his duties on the ranch for five minutes just for me—and I assumed he did it to show that he cared.

"Am I supposed to sleep in here?" I asked hesitantly.

"You can sleep wherever you want."

But there was a reason he'd plopped me on his bed and not my own.

There was also a question behind his eyes, laced with worry. Like he thought I might choose Austin's bed instead.

Without another word, he left, closing the door behind him.

I stayed on the bed another moment, letting the water have its time to warm up. The Booker I just witnessed was a night and day difference to the Booker I'd first met, and it'd only been a few days since our first interaction.

I'd thought I was a fool for allowing a man I'd just met to fuck me, and each time he walked away, I wanted to believe it was a mistake. That I wouldn't do it again. And honestly, if he had done the same today, it was likely that I would have walked away. But the side of this man that just presented himself to me in a quietly caring way was the treatment I wanted after all the rough sex and manhandling.

I hated admitting that I liked both parts of him, however opposite they may be, but it was what I craved.

My only fear was that the pieces of Booker I'd met so far fit the idea of a dream man in my mind almost to a T.

"Halloween is, like, two weeks away," McKenna said as she fixed her high ponytail.

I'd fallen asleep in Booker's bed last night, and at some point while I slept, he'd crawled in beside me, pulling me onto his chest. He was gone by the time I woke, though, and when I left for work, the three of them were out of sight, presumably doing chores out on the ranch.

"Are you dressing up?" she asked, snapping me out of the phantom memory of his body pressed to mine.

I turned to her. "Dressing up for what?"

"Halloween," she repeated. "Aren't we going to the haunted house?"

Every year, for the week leading up to the holiday, they opened the doors to the infamous haunted house that sat at the top of the hill right outside of Whiskey Ridge. And every year since we were twelve, McKenna and I would go together on opening night.

"Yeah. Of course we are."

As was the weather's usual state in October, light raindrops fell from the gray sky, landing in puddles on the sidewalks outside. My shift had gone by slow, the chilly northern Idaho weather keeping people at home rather than enjoying an evening at the diner. I wouldn't argue, though. It let my mind wander back to last night.

"Do you want to coordinate outfits?" she asked, readjusting the stack of menus that sat on the bar.

I grabbed the container of salt from under the counter, uncapping one of the shakers to refill it. "Aren't we a little old for dressing up?"

She gasped, holding a hand to her chest. "We are never too old for dressing up."

I shot her a frown, side-eying her as the salt reached the brim. Setting the jug on the counter, I screwed the cap on the glass shaker.

"Maybe sexy cheerleaders," she thought aloud, tapping a pink-painted nail to her bottom lip. It matched her lip gloss and blush scrunchie.

I gestured to our uniforms. "We already practically dress up as that every day."

She scrunched her nose. "You're right. Scratch that. How about Barbie?"

I snorted. She was the spitting image of the infamous doll. I, on the other hand, could never pass as the flawless image. "Yeah, that'd be perfect. For you."

"So grouchy today." She picked up her pen, twirling it in her fingers. "Little sleep?"

I placed the large jug of salt back under the counter, ignoring her question. "I'll come up with something."

"Oh!" she squealed, slapping her pen on the bar. "How about a cowgirl?"

"Are you just saying that because I'm living on a ranch for the time being?"

She tried to hide her smile, but failed. "No."

"Mhm." I wasn't buying it.

"It'd be perfect, Brynne!" She grabbed my arm, bouncing the slightest bit on the heel of her foot. "Booker could be your cowboy date. "

I turned away, heading into the kitchen to clock out. "He's not my date."

"You'd be a sexy cowgirl, with short shorts and a hat!" She kept going, following me to the back. "I can see it now. Booker would love it."

"Booker isn't going." I wasn't even planning on asking him. He seemed like he had better things to do than hang out in some gimmicky haunted house, screaming at jump scares and being chased by actors with chainsaws.

"That's lame." She wrote her clock-out time on the paper, popping her gum as she passed it to me. I'd grown used to the sound after so many years of her chewing it. It helped with her anxiety, giving her something to do.

Once I scribbled down my own time, we headed back out to the front to close up the diner.

"I'll get our costumes together. You don't need to worry about it one bit," she said as I twisted the key in the lock.

"If anything, I should worry more."

She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. "I have much more fashion sense than you, Brynne. You should be thanking me."

Growing up, she was the girly girl and I was the tomboy. Our friendship was definitely an opposites attract situation. I'd sprayed my mud pie on her new sundress, and we'd bonded over cleaning it off with the water spigot at school. The rest was history.

We walked side by side toward our cars, our sneakers sloshing in the small puddles.

"Are you heading to the ranch?" she asked, digging around for her keys in her purse as we approached the vehicles .

"I think I'm going to work out for half an hour, then make my way over there." It wasn't that I was avoiding seeing Booker, but I wasn't quite sure where I stood with the three of them, and I didn't want to just outright ask what this meant.

We were having fun. It was as simple as that.

But if that was the case, why was my mind having such a hard time wrapping around the fact that this thing with Booker was temporary?

"Alright. Well, be safe. I'll see you in a couple days."

I didn't work until the morning after the opening night of the haunted house, which was three days away. That meant I wouldn't see her until that evening.

I pulled on the handle of my car. "I trust you not to make me look like an idiot in that costume."

She opened her own door, looking over at me. "Have I ever let you down?"

The response wasn't comforting in the least. Most likely, she'd show up with lingerie and a cowgirl hat and tell me it was trendy.

"Goodnight," I called to her.

"Night!" We got in our vehicles, and I headed toward the gym as she turned the opposite way.

The local workout spot was nothing special. I liked to avoid it if I could, but now that I didn't have Chase's equipment to use, I needed a way to get some kind of a sweat going that didn't just involve running. I never did anything extreme—just the bare minimum when time allowed. Enough to make my limbs ache the slightest the next day, giving me that sense of satisfaction after a few exercises.

Parallel parking my car outside the gym, I surveyed my surroundings before turning it off. It was no secret I was on Chase's radar, and the last thing I needed was an incident like what happened at the diner to occur out here. After grabbing the leggings and crop top I kept in my car in case of emergency from my back seat, I got out and locked the car.

Once I was inside, I changed in the locker rooms, stashing my discarded clothes in a cubby and throwing my hair in a ponytail, then got to my routine. There was only one other person occupying the space—an old man on one of the stationary bikes.

I started with a few stretches, then grabbed a ten-pound weight to do some squats and other various exercises. After thirty minutes of light weights, the burn in my thighs and butt forced me to stop. I set the dumbbell back in its spot, then hopped on the treadmill.

The old man on the bike slowed his pace, grabbing his small towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and got off. He didn't glance my way as he left the gym, and then I was alone.

With no one else in the vicinity, I turned on some music from my phone's speaker since I didn't have headphones with me, keeping an eye on the front door in case someone walked in. There were windows lining the street-facing side of the building, but with the mist clinging to the air, I couldn't see much through them.

I kept a steady pace as I jogged, then slowed to a walk after twenty minutes. With the memory of last night running on repeat in my mind, I should have sprinted to try to distract myself, but a big part of me wanted to keep remembering the way I'd felt with Austin and Booker both having their way with me. I didn't feel shameful of it either, not even with the knowledge that Henley watched the whole thing. I had to believe Booker did that on purpose—as a way of punishing him for losing the deed.

Once the timer hit thirty, I stopped the machine, getting off to clean up in the locker room. I splashed cold water on my face, cooling my heated skin, then grabbed a clean hand towel from beside the sink to dry myself off. I dabbed at my eyes with the soft cotton, then turned to toss it in the small hamper by the counter, but as soon as I did, I froze with my gaze locked onto the unfamiliar man that stood five feet from me in the doorway, blocking my only exit.

As if we both weighed our options, we stared at each other for a second or two. With the look on his face, it was obvious he wasn't here for a simple workout after a long day. He was here for a job, and I got the feeling that involved me. Without thinking, I threw the towel at him, darting to the left. I should've known the distraction was pointless as he tossed it to the side and caught me around the waist, lifting me off my feet.

"Let me go!" I shouted, slamming my hands on his hard back after he tossed me over his shoulder like I was as weightless as the towel. He was a beast of a man, about as bulky as Booker. I had no chance against him.

"Your little boyfriend still hasn't paid." He pulled me back over, slamming me up against the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Glass cracked behind me, and my head pulsed where it made contact with the mirror. The man wrapped a hand around my ponytail, tugging so that my neck was exposed, my head at an awkward angle. "I don't think my coworker made it clear what happens when we don't get our money."

"I don't know where he is," I gritted out at the same time a clang echoed through the room. It sounded a lot like a pocket knife being popped open.

"I don't believe you." He tugged my hair harder, and I swore a shard of glass was digging into my scalp as something wet and warm trickled down my hairline.

I tried to keep my breathing calm as my eyes landed on the knife in his other hand, but it was nearly impossible. "I broke up with him the night he won it. I haven't seen him since," I said hurriedly. The man didn't need to know about Chase coming to the diner the day after.

The cold tip of the blade met the skin on my neck, and I acted without thinking, kicking out, right between his legs. The guy let out a grunt, but he barely flinched otherwise before lashing out, slapping me straight across my face.

My cheek stung as he yanked my head forward, pressing it directly into his chest. Blindly reaching for anything to grab onto, for any way to hurt him, I found his chin and shoved, but at the angle I was in, I couldn't get enough force behind me for it to do anything but only make him angrier. His hand tightened in my hair and a scream ripped past my lips as I was pushed back up against the wall.

Lights flashed behind my eyes as my ears rang, my body fighting to stay up as tremors wracked my limbs. The realization that I was at a disadvantage here, with no weapon and barely any strength, slammed into me like a freight train.

I was going to die.