American Honey

just won’t do that to someone.”

Chapter Seven

Trouble

I’m in my room on Monday afternoon, when I see dad out in the arena standing over the bullpens. I also see Callan approaching wearing chaps and a glove on his right hand. He climbs over the chute when Hammer, our mean as fuck bull enters the chute. When he’s in position, Callan climbs over the side of the gate and gets a rope tied around him right behind his front legs. Before I know it, the gate opens and Hammer starts bucking and rearing. What gets me is Callan’s confidence. There’s never a question of whether he can do it. He can. And he does. My eyes are riveted to him and the motion of his body as he does what he’s damn good at.

The sight has me grabbing at clothes to get down there and be able to see this in person.

I’m not quite fast enough so when I get down there, he’s off the bull and dusting off his jeans. He takes his hat off and does the same. I’m learning that hat is his favorite, he’s worn it every day I’ve seen him so far.

He’s walking toward the barn when I catch up to him, waiting until my dad’s disappeared in the house, hoping maybe he might be a little nicer after kissing me in the barn last night. “You definitely know how to stay on the full eight seconds, don’t you?” There’s a sexiness to my tone that has his attention. He turns around and walks backwards a few steps, then turns back around.

His voice is harsher than before, full of a bitterness I’m beginning to get used to. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I follow him, just like I have the last two days. “Are you always such a jerk when a girl sucks your dick the first night you’re in town?”

He snorts picking up the pitch fork to throw hay into Layla’s stall. “What’s that say about you, farmer’s daughter?”

“Callan—” I’m just about to tell him off for being such an asshole when he beats me to it.

“You’re seventeen. You got no business actin’ this way.” He throws down the pitch fork and begins to walk away, his shoulders tense. “I saw you with Kasey the other night. Is that just your thing?”

It hurt. It hurt really bad to hear him say that.

“Well, I remember last night and you kissing me. Age doesn’t mean a goddamn thing.” I’m ignoring his remarks about Kasey.

He turns on his heel and faces me again, anger lighting his face again. “It should. It fucking should matter.” He takes both my hands forcing me to look at him.

“Why’d you kiss me last night then?”

“What are you doing?” He ignores my question. “You’re letting these guys treat you like you’re some kind of slut. That’s not you. I see it. You don’t. You think you can’t do better but you can!”

“Really, because it certainly doesn’t appear that way. The good guy I want treats me the same way, just won’t fuck me.” It’s a pretty low blow, but I say it anyway.

His face and the way his eyes are stone cold and bleeding with an invisible pain when we make eye contact give him away. “You don’t know anything.” He’s so angry that his confidence and pride are wavering, he’s breaking a little and I see it. He wants to show me I don’t know what I’m talking about but his stubbornness gets him too. “You think you know, don’t you? You think you’re so fucking smart, yes?”

“Callan.” I sigh, his name on my lips in something he wants to hear because I see his face twist when I say it. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t what?” His eyes search mine, the cobalt blue depths of his meeting sea green. They collide like waves crashing against a rocky shore.

“Be this way.” My eyes dip to his chest, so tense his muscles seem tight and rigid.

“What way? This is me.” He backs away about a step. “You’re the one fooling yourself.”

I blink at his harshness. “You’re being an asshole.”

“Oh, Alanna.” He’s mocking me. “It’s not a way. It’s me. I’m an asshole. Took you long enough to figure it out. Most woman figure it out the first night.” He knows I’m pissed with the words he’s saying but he doesn’t stop, he’s going for the full eight seconds, the entire ride of destroying me. “I can’t be anything you’re hoping I will be. It’d be a goddamn disaster.”

“I’m not looking for anything from you but your dick.” I say, acting the way he thinks I am.

“You had that, remember?” He laughs, brushing past me without another word.

“I do remember.” I grab onto his crotch as he walks by and he stops, he wants my hand there, I feel it.

He throws a handful of hay at me as he grabs my hand, the one stroking his dick through his Wranglers, and pulls it away. “Stop that.”

“Stop being a jerk to me then.”