Gone Country (Rough Riders #14)(75)

His topaz-colored eyes searched hers. “The truth? I can’t afford a girlfriend. I live with my dad, but he’s never f*cking there. He reminds me that I’m an adult and I have to pay for everything myself. Even working part-time means I’m full-time broke. I don’t even have a goddamn car, so it’s not like I can pick up a chick on my bike when it’s twenty degrees below zero.”


Sierra exhaled the breath she’d been holding.


“If anyone asks—and some girls just don’t get the hint that I’m not interested—I tell them I’m seeing a woman who lives in Casper.” He shrugged and dropped his hand from her face. “Not an original lie, but one that usually works.” He gave her a light butt on the head. “Nice distraction, but you still owe me an embarrassing fact about you.”


“I’m learning to knit and I really love it.”


“That is not embarrassing. So quit hedging and lay the real dirt on me.”


She blurted, “I was put in juvenile for shoplifting and had to go to teen court.”


Boone whistled. “Wasn’t expecting that. What happened?”


She told him. Her face flamed, as it always did, when she thought about how stupid she’d been.


“What’d you take?”


“A bottle of perfume.”


He studied her. “Would your dad have bought it for you if you’d asked him?”


“Maybe. My mom definitely would’ve coughed up the cash. Of course, it would’ve been money she’d gotten from my dad.”


“So why’d you do it?”


“A dare from my friends. They said I was too much of a goody-goody. Then they showed me the stuff they’d taken. So I tried to prove I was badass by stealing something. God. I was so f*cking gullible and I got caught.”


“Did you tell the cops your friends were ripping off stuff too?”


Sierra shook her head. “When the mall cops couldn’t get a hold of my mom or my dad, they called the real cops who put me in juvenile detention. With all these kids who had serious problems.” She shuddered. “A fifteen-year-old busted for prostitution, a twelve-year-old who’d passed out in the park after she’d nearly died from alcohol poisoning and a girl who assaulted a cop as a gang initiation.”


“How long did they leave you in the holding cell?”


“Six hours before my dad showed up. It was horrible. And I said really awful things to him. I was just scared and took it out on him.” She sighed. “He got the best shot in though, when he sprang the surprise move on me in front of the magistrate.”


Boone grinned. “Bet that went over well with you.”


“It was like he was purposely trying to ruin my life. My mom had ditched me. The people I’d tried to impress with my klepto ways? They lied; they’d bought all the stuff they’d supposedly stolen. Then those f*ckers had the balls to tell me that they didn’t want to be associated with a juvenile delinquent.”


“Fuck, Sierra. That’s harsh. So do you hate that your dad made you move to Wyoming?”


She shrugged. “Some days it’s not so bad.” Like right now. “But others…it sucks. It hasn’t escaped your notice that I’m home on a Saturday night.” For the third Saturday night in a row.


“I thought you were hanging out with Marin?”


“I was. Until she got a boyfriend. I mean, we still see each other at school, but she’d rather be with him on weekends. And I can only tag along out of pity so many times.”


“Pity. Right. Haven’t any of the guys in our school asked you out?” He paused and frowned. “That’s a good thing. They’re all boneheads. Or cowboys. You’re better off at home.” Boone stood. “Now that I know all your secrets, I gotta head out so I can spread them far and wide.” He ducked when she swatted at him. “Kidding. But I do need to hit the road.”


“You’re not leaving until you call your uncles.”


“Maybe my cell phone is warmed up. The cold sucks the battery life to nothin’.” Boone reached into the pocket of his coveralls and pulled out an older model cell phone with an antenna. “Just enough juice to make a call.”


“Use the house phone and save your battery life.” She snagged the portable receiver from the hallway.


He kept his eyes on hers as he waited for someone to pick up. “Chet? Ha ha, *, no, I ain’t in jail. Fuck you. I am having problems with my bike though.” Pause. “Yeah, I know. I’m on my way home. Out Burner Road. I had to stop in at Rielle’s place and warm up after my bike crapped out. Okay. Yeah, I’ve got it with me but it shuts down.” Pause. “I will. God. I said I would. Bye.” He hung up.


Then he started putting his clothes back on.



“Do I get your number? So I can check to see that you’re home safe?” That didn’t sound skanky and desperate, did it?


“I don’t know…” He tapped his finger on his lips as if giving the matter great thought. “I don’t usually give it out. But I suppose I could make an exception to the person who saved my life.” He rattled off the number.