Page 59 of Sunday Morning
“Let’s go.” I stood, worming my way out of the stands and marching toward the parking lot.
“Hey, you came,” Isaac called, wearing a huge grin while strutting toward us.
“Hey, Isaac. You were amaz—” Heather started to praise him.
But before she could step closer and stroke his animal-abusing ego, I grabbed his shirt and shoved him. “You are a cruel, heinous person, Isaac Cory. A brutal barbarian!” I punched his arm.
“Stop!” He grabbed my wrists. “What the hell?”
I tried to wriggle out of his hold, but it was futile.
“Um, you know the saying ‘it’s not my first rodeo’?” Heather asked Isaac. “Well, thisisSarah’s first rodeo, and she’s not a fan of roping.”
I kicked his shin, and he released me. It wasn’t just the baby cow; it was everything that had happened.
“Let’s go, Heather.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her against her will.
“Sarah, it’s a sport.” She laughed.
“You’re taking me home.” I yanked her arm a little harder as she resisted me.
“I’ll take her home.” Isaac’s boots scuffed along the gravel toward us.
“Uh …” Heather looked at me with wide eyes.
“No. You’re taking me. We’re going now.”
“Go, Heather. I’ve got this. I need to have a little chatwith my future sister-in-law.” He hooked an arm around my waist.
“Are you sure?” She. Asked. HIM!
It was as if I didn’t exist. Eighteen years of friendship and she abandoned me.
“No! Let go of me.”
With a shrug and a wrinkled nose, Heather backed away from us. “Call me later.”
“Heather!” I yelled as Isaac tossed me over his shoulder,manhandlingme behind the stands, where nobody made any attempt to rescue me.
“Put me down!” I kicked.
“Stop it,” Isaac said, swatting my butt.
Did he just spank me?
When we reached his truck and horse trailer, he set me on my feet. I pounded my fists against his chest as he backed me into the passenger’s door while restraining me by holding my wrists and pressing them to my chest.
“Sunday Morning, I’m a little on edge because I need a fucking cigarette, but I quit. Now you’re throwing a childish tantrum over a calf that’s perfectly fine. Ya gotta cut me a little slack.”
I hated his close proximity because as badly as I wanted to hurt him the way he hurt the baby cow, I felt intoxicated by his musky scent laced with leather and dirt. I never thought leather and dirt would smell good. But it did on Isaac—so did his calloused hands wrapped around my wrists, his gaze pointed at my mouth, and the heat of his body so close to mine.
My labored breaths slowed. “Why did you quit smoking?” I whispered.
“You know why.”
I slowly shook my head.
“The problem is, I need something to occupy my lips if I can’t have a cigarette between them.” He lowered his head until his nose brushed my hair and his lips feathered across my forehead.