Savage in a Stetson (Crossroads #4) - Em Petrova Page 0,1

for it.

Jada didn’t ever want to leave Crossroads. She loved this town. Her roots dug deep. She wanted to marry and raise her children here, in the same small town where she’d grown up. She let herself be deluded to the thought that Dom wanted the same thing, especially when he took the job on the Bellamy Ranch, but that was just temporary.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at him. It was hard to choke down the knowledge that they were over before they got much of a start. But if it wasn’t meant to be, who was she to argue with the universe?

He sent her a look that made her stomach tumble and her heart bob to the top of her throat. She looked away.

Damn her pitiful heart for falling in love with the man.

Chapter One

The long white casket matched the flashiness of Dominick’s friend who lay inside it. Jackson Jesse James had been christened with a flashy name, he lived his life with the best of everything, from the biggest buckles of a bull rider to his tricked-out truck.

But now he was gone.

Dom rubbed at his jaw and the scar that cut a path over his skin, a thin line a spot where no beard grew, like a vein running through his beard. He earned that scar by falling off a bull. Jackson fell off a bull, struck his head and died.

How was that fair? Why did he stand here, aching for his best friend and Jackson’s surviving young wife, while his buddy was about to be lowered into the ground?

He glanced up at the man’s wife Sadie. She stood pale and silent, staring into space as the preacher spoke words about afterlife and the glory of God’s kingdom. Dom wished there was something he could do for the woman. She deserved better—to have a family and grow old with her husband.

Sadie’s eyes shifted upward and met his. He swallowed hard, wishing he could run from the funeral, from Texas—hell, even from the scar on his face that reminded him that he’d survived.

Letting his gaze drop, he waited out the rest of the funeral, planning to give Jackson’s widow his condolences and then split as fast as he could—burn up some rubber between here and Crossroads, his hometown. He couldn’t think of anything worse than being on the rodeo circuit, riding bulls and waiting for his own shiny casket. He’d fought to the top in a short time, but what did it all mean?

What did it mean to his friend now?

He heaved a heavy sigh as the preacher’s sermon rambled to a close. Sadie stepped forward to drop a flower on top of the casket. She looked at Dom, and he felt that crawling sensation of survivor’s guilt all over again and automatically raised a hand to his scar.

Everybody took their turn saying farewell to their friend and loved one. Dom did the same, feeling numb and distanced from the moment. He had to get the hell out of here before he broke down.

Turning, he started away from the group.

“Dom! Wait a minute.”

He turned from his fast stride across the cemetery lawn to see Jackson’s wife coming his way. Damn, what would he say to her? I’m sorry for your loss. He was a good man and a good friend. Empty words in the face of her grief.

He started walking back across the vibrant green grass to meet her. He took her hand in his and squeezed as he looked into her bloodshot eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Sadie nodded. “I know ya are. We all are, but nobody could stop Jackson from doin’ what he loved.” Her deep country twang was whispery soft as though her throat hurt from crying.

“I’m sorry to leave so quick. I’ve gotta…” Run away?

“I know. I just wanted to talk to you before you go, Dom.” She searched his face. “Remember that day you told us about your grandpa telling you to stay in Crossroads, find your roots and raise a family with a woman you love?”

His heart gave a sharp pang. As if losing his best friend wasn’t bad enough, his grandfather’s words completely mashed his heart. He hadn’t listened to Grandpa, and it was one of his biggest regrets this past year.

Along with walking away from Jada.

He gave a nod. “I remember.”

“You need to think hard about that, Dom. Nobody could pull Jackson off a bull. He died doin’ what he loved.” Her voice cracked. “But I don’t believe