Rough Stock (Lost Creek Rodeo #3) - Heather B. Moore Page 0,7
reached for the seatbelt, but it was either too short or stuck. She tugged harder, to no effect.
“Hang on, Silvia,” Westin said. “Sometimes that one gets caught.” And without asking her permission, he leaned over her and grasped the end of the seatbelt, then yanked it hard.
The thing came free from whatever clutches it had been in.
But Westin didn’t stop there. Apparently, he wanted to make sure for himself that she was buckled in tight, because he did it for her.
All right, then.
She was too surprised to protest. And next thing she knew, he was pulling out onto the road. They bounced over a couple of ruts, then the pavement grew smooth.
“I can pay you, you know,” she said. “If this is out of your way, that is.”
He cut a glance at her, and those green eyes seemed lighter now. “It’s definitely out of my way, Silvia, but there’s no charge.”
Why did he keep saying her name? She was trying to decide if it annoyed her. She’d never heard her name spoken in a twang, and it was kind of sweet.
“Thank you for that.” Maybe she’d leave a twenty dollar bill on the seat before she got out at the airport. Did she even have cash? They’d left in such a hurry, and she put everything on her debit card, so she wasn’t sure.
She dug into her shoulder bag and found her wallet. Her phone showed three missed calls. All from Axel. Whatever.
Before she could open her wallet, Westin slammed on his brakes.
“What in the world?” he muttered.
Silvia snapped her gaze up. The little red car that her brother had rented had pulled in front of Westin’s truck and was blocking the way. “Just drive around him.”
“You know this guy?” Westin asked as Axel climbed out of the front seat and strode toward the truck.
Her brother looked pissed, all right. His ballcap was turned backwards, and his dark eyes flashed. Yeah, her brother could be formidable, both on the baseball field and in real life. But that didn’t mean he could bully her.
“He’s my brother,” Silvia said. “Please keep driving. Nothing good will come of this.”
Westin seemed to hesitate, and for an instant, she thought he was going to gun the truck’s engine and roar past her brother.
Instead, he put the truck into park and opened his door.
This man was looking for a fight. Westin could see that a mile away. But the guy—Silvia’s brother—wasn’t a mile away. He was a few yards, and in seconds, Westin might be finding himself in the middle of flying fists.
Right now, he didn’t know whose fists would be flying first. Silvia was twenty-four, or at least he hoped she was telling the truth, and this guy . . . well, Westin had just landed himself in the center of a family feud, apparently.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the dark-haired man said.
But the guy wasn’t talking to Westin.
He heard the snap of the truck’s door locks behind him. From Silvia.
And that’s when Westin recognized the irate man, as several things clicked into place. Silvia’s Sharks baseball shirt. This dark-haired man, whose face matched none other than Axel Diaz, was one of the top shortstops in the MLB.
What was he doing in Lost Creek? With his sister?
Then Westin knew.
Kellie’s women’s recovery place must be their destination—well, Broken Hearts Ranch, to be exact. Whenever there was an out-of-town woman in the area, she was usually a client at the recovery ranch.
“You’ve gone too far, Silv,” Axel called, his voice strained, veins in his neck bulging. He detoured from Westin and headed toward the truck where his sister was barricaded.
“Hold up,” Westin said, stepping between Axel and the truck. “Let’s all be civil here for a moment. No reason to get the cops involved.”
Axel Diaz, if this was really him and Westin wasn’t in the middle of some bizarre dream, fully focused on him. “Cops? You gonna call the cops on me, man?”
Westin raised his hands. “I don’t want to. Not at all. But I’m not going to allow you to badger your sister, either.”
Axel’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move, except for the tick of his jaw. “Who are you?’
“Westin Farr.”
Axel took a step closer. “I mean, who are you, and why is my sister in your truck?”
Westin set his hands at his waist. “She was hitchhiking. Said she needed a ride to the airport.”
Axel scoffed. Then his brows pulled together. “Really?” His tone was much calmer now, and his breathing had deescalated.