Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,20

because I’m afraid of the commitment. I get lonely easy and apparently get territorial over men who don’t belong to me. I live with a predator inside of me who runs on pure instinct and very little logic. I think with my heart, talk before I speak, and I have horrible taste in men. Historically. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” he uttered as he moved her backward toward an open area on the dance floor. “I don’t like mornings either, I can cook good enough for the both of us, also made mediocre grades in school, mostly because I was managing a dominant bull and didn’t know what I was doing with my life back then. You’ll find the right job for you eventually, and a little online shopping here and there never hurt nobody. You should get a tortoise. Maybe it’ll help with your commitment shit. Everybody gets lonely sometimes, and I said it before and I’ll say it again…I loved when you got territorial. You have a protective streak that I find so damn sexy. And your wolf functioning on instinct? That’s normal. My bull doesn’t even realize I have a human side. If he’s out of me, he’s on his own. And, again, thank God for your bad taste in men.”

She laughed and spun again. Hey, they were getting good at this. She wasn’t even stepping on his toes. “You’re a very good dancer.”

“Thank you. I took lessons.”

“Really?”

Quickdraw snorted. “Fuck no.”

She didn’t know why that made her laugh so loud, but it did. They danced the whole song and then straight into the next. By the time he led her off the dancefloor, the food was on the table and the herd was digging in.

The band announced their last song, and one of the staff began setting up a karaoke system near the stage.

Now she was getting a little nervous. Annabelle liked to sing, but she wasn’t so good in front of crowds. When she turned to Quickdraw to tell him that, he was staring at the front door with a troubled look swimming in his eyes. There was no one there, though, just the front door swinging closed, as if someone had just walked out.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

“Yeah. I’ve got to see someone about something. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.” Admission: she felt a little stung at being left out as he walked away. He had a whole life outside of her, though, and if he needed to take care of something, make a call, or whatever he needed to do, that was okay. Everything was okay.

He took a few long strides toward the door, hesitated, and then turned back to her. He sauntered right back to her, slipped his strong hand to her hip and pressed his lips lightly to her cheek. And then he walked to the door and right out of it without looking back again.

When a few karaoke songs had finished and Quickdraw still wasn’t back, she began to worry, obsessively checking the front door. Goodness, she was a stage-five clinger with this man. She needed to chill out. He was a grown stranger.

But what if he was in a fight? What if he’d been jumped and was lying in an alley injured? Staring at the sky, bleeding out?

Oh, geez, her imagination was really ridiculous, as usual.

She should just make sure he was still alive, though. Before Annabelle could change her mind, she marched to the front door and straight out into the night.

Quickdraw wasn’t there. The parking lot was well-lit, but no one was there that she could see or hear.

But around the side of the building in the shadows, two men were talking. And as she approached, she could tell one was Quickdraw.

Annabelle pressed her back against the wall and listened.

“Okay, then who do you think it is?” Quickdraw asked low.

Another man with a gritty, deep voice answered, “All I know is, it’s not the bulls. None in the circuit at least. I think we should look at the riders next.”

“Yeah, but what would they have to gain?” Quickdraw asked. “If we all went down, they would have no one to ride. I understand if they’re pissed that we’re making more money now, but poisoning us? Every rider I’ve met with has been honest about not being involved. I can hear it in their voice.”

The other man sighed. “Then, I don’t fuckin’ know, man. All I know is someone is targeting us. It’s not just in the food anymore,