Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (2 page)

Spotting her red hair from across the room, I make a beeline for her. I’m not much on girlfriends, but I’d like to have at least one. And I certainly don’t want my roommate to become my enemy. I smile her way, but she’s not paying me one bit of attention. I follow her gaze to one of the newly-arrived cowboys.
Holy shit!
He is hot. Shaggy, blondish brown hair, blue eyes, and cut. Even that is obvious with his button-up checkered shirt and Wranglers.
Check the boots.
Yep, nice boots. Worn, but cared for, expensive, a nice, manly brown. I glance back up at his face and get a decent vibe from him. Shy smile, but it reaches his eyes. Holds his drink casually, like he’s relaxed.
He’d do.

Looking back to get a read on Maggie, I see lust at first sight written all over my roommate’s face. Her admiring eyes haven’t strayed, and she’s sporting a giant smile. I laugh a little at her obviousness. She’s a sweet girl.

On move-in day here at Montana State University, I was nervous, and I don’t do nervous, but I didn’t want to end up with a stick-in-the-mud or a raging bitch. I wanted someone right in the middle—laid back and easy going. Someone I could easily talk to and who wouldn’t be judgmental ‘cause, let’s face it, I’m different. And I can be difficult. I also needed someone who had a damn backbone. But at the same time, she couldn’t be like me. Anyone like me, and we’d probably kill each other.

My eyes about bugged out of my head when Maggie strolled in wearing her all-pink ensemble, promptly dropping her pink luggage and making it look like someone had puked Pepto Bismol all over our room. When she hugged me fiercely, I was thrilled. I made a snap judgment—black and pink would complement each other perfectly. She squeezed and jostled me while her parents stood a step behind, beaming at her. Yep, she was perfect.

“Denver, I’m so happy to meet you. We’re gonna be best of friends, I just know it,” she squealed in my ear.

I cleared my throat because I didn’t want her to hear the desperation in my voice. “Maggie, it’s awesome to meet you. Is everyone from Shelby as sweet as you?” I asked.

She pulled back and slapped me on the arms. “Oh, yeah, honey. It’s those sugar beets we produce, don’t you know?”

I grinned as I assessed her. At the outset, we looked nothing alike. I was all wavy, dirty blonde to her curly strawberry red. Her eyes were as big and as round as mine, but where mine are a honey-gold, hers are electric green. She was curvy like me but just a hair shorter. My boobs were slightly bigger than hers, but when she stepped back and spun toward her parents, I noticed that her ass definitely rivaled mine. We could probably trade clothes if she owned anything that wasn’t pink.

“So Denver Dempsey, meet my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Myers,” she said, gesturing for me to shake hands with them.

“Hi, nice to meet you both.” They looked like an ad for the perfect parents—all smiles and beaming brightly at their pride and joy. My heart twisted a little.

“Oh, Denver, we already know so much about you,” her mother said. I froze. Surely not. “Highest paid high school barrel racer. All county, all state, a national star. Primed to go pro but was smart enough to say no and go to school. Honey, that’s fantastic. Congratulations on all your hard work paying off.” I breathed a sigh a relief that she hadn’t been commenting on my activities outside of the arena. My notoriety forced me to forget my fame sometimes.

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed. “You’re nothing without an education. I could get hurt tomorrow and not be able to compete. Seemed like the best idea to have something to fall back on.”

“I like her,” her otherwise quiet father added. “Good head on her shoulders. Seems bright. Maggie, you girls stick together. I know you’re both eighteen and got all kinds of freedom. The boys’ll be circling their wagons. You two don’t lose sight of each other, ya hear?”

“Yes, sir,” we replied. We looked at each other and grinned because we said it at the same time. My grin was wider, though, because I couldn’t remember the last time I had parental approval. It was … nice.

I am pulled from the memory when I reach Maggie, and I bump her elbow with my free one. “What’s up, girl?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says with a blush.

“Umm, hmm. I just spotted this
really
cute cowboy.”

“You did?” she asks, smiling.

“I did. He’s at about 2:00. Shaggy, sandy brown hair.” I glance over at her and see her smile has fallen.

“Yeah, I see him too.”

“I know you do, crazy. I was watching you ogle him from across the room,” I joke.

She throws her hand over her heart. “Denver, that was just plain mean. I thought I was gonna have to fight you for him.”

I laugh. “No way. He’s all yours. I had to mess with you though.” He’s a little too pretty for my taste. Kind of makes me think of Greer. Greer is beautiful, but his beauty is unique. His inner beauty shines through and far surpasses what’s on the outside. And as much as I know I need to do this on my own, I still miss him. I nod at him. “He’s good lookin’ all right. Gives off good vibes too.”

“I thought so too. He watches who he’s talking to and doesn’t check out every
thing
that walks by.”

“So, you gonna go talk to him?”

“Ugh! I don’t know. I tend to freeze up and look like an idiot around boys. And he looks older. More experienced. What if he sees right through my naïve self?” she says with a groan.

“Never know until you try. Have you had a boyfriend before?”

“Uh, no. Momma and Daddy weren’t too keen on me dating. And, to be honest, high school boys were so immature I never pushed it.”

She was right about that. “Hmm … I’ve never had a boyfriend either.”

“What?” she asks shocked. “I mean, you seem experienced. Uh, not like that … I mean—”

“It’s OK,” I interrupt to help extract her foot from her mouth. “And I am kind of experienced. Speaking of which, will you do me a favor?” She nods, her eyes even bigger. “If you hear any rumors about me tonight, will you give me the benefit of the doubt? Don’t judge until we can talk?”

“Of course, Denver,” she readily agrees.

“Thanks,” I say with a relieved sigh. I look back to the object of her lust and notice
him
. Wow. He’s a big deal so, of course, I knew I’d see him soon. I was hoping for some more time to get intel on him before I actually introduced myself. But here he is in all his badass glory, and I’m dying to meet him.

In every possible way, he is a contradiction to his sport and his country roots. Regardless, he is the best at what he does. Buzz cut, tattooed, tall (for a bull rider), and built like a Mack truck. Most bull riders are shorter, leaner, longer hair. Not him—he took convention and gave it a big FU, and I ate that up. He was right up my twisted alley. I already decided that we were kindred spirits and would be good friends, especially seeing as I had wanted to be him at some point. Well, not him exactly. I wanted to be a bull rider. My momma and daddy never laughed harder in their lives. At five, I was crushed. In my young eyes, bull riders were the coolest and the baddest. And I’d always wanted that.

My heart longed to ride the untamable, pissed off beast. To show him, and the world, that no matter how much shit they gave me, I could hold on for as long as I needed to bring it home. That, no matter what, I would live my life on my own terms. Too bad I didn’t have the right parts so I could never do more than ride sheep. I had to settle for the coolest thing for my gender—barrel racing. I worked hard at being the best barrel racer around, which is badass in its own right, and I even managed to put my own stamp on the sport.

Shaking my head, I focus on
him
again. He’s talking to Maggie’s guy. They seem real friendly, so Maggie was right, her guy must be older. My rodeo god’s a senior and getting ready to go pro. He’s got his arms folded so that his faded blue jean shirt is pulling tight against his muscles. His sleeves are rolled up, putting his tattoos on display. It’s untucked, but not so long that I’m missing out on that spectacularly tight ass accentuated by his Wranglers. They’re a shade or two darker than his shirt. He’s finished it off with probably the sexiest boots I have ever laid eyes on. Dress black Laredos with silver accents and Concho boot chains. I’m practically salivating.

“Come on,” I tell Maggie, taking a long pull from my liquid courage. “Let’s go meet them.”

“Them?”

Garth Brooks’s “Friends in Low Places” kicks on and promptly gets turned up, so I lean in. “Yeah, I want to meet his friend. In the blue? With the buzz cut? See him?”

“Oh, yeah,” she murmurs with a chuckle. “I see him all right. You’ll be knocking on trouble’s front freakin’ door if you’re interested in him, Denver.”

I give her a little laugh. “I can handle myself,” I assure her.

She takes a deep breath and nods. “OK.”

We cross the small space to meet him and his mystery friend. There’s a third guy standing with them as well. I clear my throat a little when we’re closer. My hands are suddenly clammy, and my heart is racing. Oh shit! I’m so anxious, and it’s not that he’s a badass, that he’s probably a heartbreaker, or that he’s sexy as all hell. He’s a rodeo god, and suddenly, I feel unworthy. Me—the best of the best. Too late now, my boobs have gotten the third guy’s attention, and Mr. Rodeo God himself glances back at us.

“Well, what’ve we got here?” the guy asks my breasts.

Rolling my eyes, I answer, “Well,” I point at my chest, “these here are called breasts. But … I’m Denver,” I joke, as I scrunch down to try to make eye contact with him. The gawker isn’t fazed when I address his obvious rudeness, but the rest of us share a laugh. Having grown up around rough and ready cowboys and ranch hands, not much bothered me, but I couldn’t resist giving them shit for their crude ways. I reach around and pull Maggie next to me with a laugh. “And this is Maggie.”

“Denver …” my rodeo god prompts.

“Denver Dempsey,” I state before throwing out, “Maggie Myers,” even though he didn’t ask.

The guy still eyeballing my tits moans, “Double D,” and shifts his eyes to Maggie’s, “and Mmm Mmm. Got it.”

Again, my eyes seek divine intervention. If I had a dollar every time someone called me that, I’d be able to adorn these bad girls in a brand-spanking-new Victoria Secret every single day for the rest of my life. I look over to Maggie and see her blushing profusely.

“Denver Dempsey,” my rodeo god says, thrilling me with the use of my full name. “I figured as much but didn’t want to assume. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

That throws me for a loop. “Me?” I can hear the surprise in my voice.

“Yeah, you. You’re already a legend. Glad to have you on our team,” he says with a wide, white grin.

“And here I’ve been excited to meet John Ransom,” I’m barely able to return.
He’s excited about me?
The best bull rider in his class? That’s crazy.

“Just Ransom. So how’s it feel to be the number one barrel racer?”

He knows I’m number one? What alternate universe have I woken up in? Again, this is crazy.
Play it cool.
“Feels pretty damn good. But you would know how it feels to be number one, wouldn’t you?”

He lifts his chin, and a bashful grin lights up his features. I find this not a little surprising and most definitely intriguing. “I guess I would,” he agrees. “Pretty damn good seems fitting.”

I hear a throat being cleared and realize that we’re being rude. “Umm … Ransom, if you’re done fangirling, we’d like to meet your new friends,” the pervy one jokes.

Ransom gives a sly smile and leans back on the heels of his boots. “Shit! Sorry about that.” He gestures to Maggie’s guy. “This is Pete Ford. And this dumbass here is my cousin, Austin. Same last name.”

“Hi, Pete.” I nod my head at him. “Hi, Austin Same Last Name,” I say with a light laugh.

“Don’t start that,” he complains, pouting.

“What?” I taunt. “You gave me and my friend here ridiculous nicknames.”

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “OK, OK. I’ll behave,” he says with a crooked grin.

I raise my brows. “Yeah, I bet.”

Ransom pops Austin in the back of the head. “Be good, numnuts.” Austin would be cute, with his short brown hair and bright, brown eyes, if he weren’t annoying, which happens to be his main attribute at the moment.

“So what’s your event, Maggie?” Ransom asks.

“Pole Bending,” she replies seriously.

Austin pinches his lips together in effort to keep from laughing, but I can’t contain mine. You’d think it wouldn’t be funny after years of hearing it, but it just sounds so dirty.

“Thanks, y’all,” Maggie mutters and rolls her eyes. “You try weaving your horse in and out of those poles at a breakneck speed without hitting them or falling off, and then we’ll talk.” I want to pat her on the back for not taking our shit.

“Hey, I’ve seen you ride,” Pete interjects quietly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you ride a strawberry roan, don’t you?” She nods. “I saw you in Oklahoma last year.”

“You did?” How fitting that my strawberry friend rides a strawberry and cream-colored horse.

“Yeah, your horse is beautiful. I had one growing up. I’ve got a silver dapple now.”

“Oh, those are pretty too.”

With each phrase uttered, they subconsciously moved toward one another until now, they were moving off together. It is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. After a few seconds, Maggie looks back at me with a beaming smile. I can’t help my answering grin.

I turn back to find that Ransom and I are alone now too, and his piercing gaze makes me swallow hard. “Looks like Pete and Maggie hit it right off,” he says with a chin lift toward the enraptured couple.

“Looks like,” I agree.

“So what’s your story, Denver Dempsey?”

Now that we are alone, I can take the few seconds I need to really focus on him in all his perfectly imperfect beauty. The eyes draw me in first, pale, almost-translucent greens that remind me of sea-foam, huge and surrounded by long, lush eyelashes. As I take in the rest of his face, I notice the scars slashing through each eyebrow. The outer tip of one is interrupted with a clean line while the arch of the other has a jagged break. He has a darker complexion, from the sun I’m sure, with a few freckles dusting his obviously broken and healed nose. From the looks of it, he’s suffered more than one break. I’m sure it’s from butting heads with some particularly nasty bulls, which is probably how he got the crescent-shaped scar that adorns his chin as well.