“Shut up.” She glared at him. “I know about the rodeo. And guess what, genius...trying to make me feel bad isn’t helping your cause. It’s just pissing me off. I didn’t create this problem. You did.”
He glared back. “You’re gonna deny me a goddamn lousy phone call?”
“Where’s your cell?”
Frowning, he glanced at the nightstand. “My shirt...where is it?”
“What am I, your maid?” she grumbled, and spotted it on the floor by the chair. She picked up the shirt and then noticed his phone sitting on the armoire. Tempted to toss the cell to him, she moved close enough to drop it on the mattress barely within his reach.
With the most irritating grin, he strained toward the cell and grabbed it. “What are you afraid of? Huh? What did you think I was going to do to you? I’ve got one wrist cuffed to this post,” he said in a taunting tone of voice. “What are you doing to my shirt?”
“What?” She looked down at the garment she was hugging to her chest. “Nothing.”
“Were you sniffing it?”
“No. Ew.” She flung the shirt toward the chair. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Heat stung her cheeks. She kept her face averted, knowing it must be red, and pulled out her own phone.
If he was laughing at her...
If?
Did she really have any doubt?
One word. Just one wrong word out of his mouth, and she’d drag him to her car in front of the whole damn town. Announce to everyone he was a fugitive from justice.
Her sigh ended in a shudder. She hadn’t even been aware of smelling his shirt.
He was awfully quiet.
“Arnie?”
Sophie let out a breath and slowly turned to see Ethan holding the cell to his ear and glaring at the ceiling.
“Don’t pull that you’re-breaking-up bullshit on me,” Ethan said, his voice furious. “What the hell, dude? I thought you were taking care of the charges.”
Sophie perched on the edge of the chair to send a quick text to Lola.
“That’s good, right?” Ethan stacked two pillows behind his back. “If she insists on lying, her husband will know she’s been cruising bars and picking up men while he’s out of town.” He listened for a few seconds. “And I had to call you to find all this out?”
Before hitting Send, she glanced up again.
Ethan looked worried. His chest rose and fell on a sigh. “Jesus, Arnie, you’ve got to find out by tomorrow. The finals are in a week. You know this year could be it for me...”
The despair in his voice made her stomach clench. Thank God she had her phone to occupy her, because she couldn’t stand to look at him right now. This year could be it for him? Why?
“Maybe I should call my agent,” he said, his eyes meeting hers when she looked up. “Brian’s going to find out anyway. They think I jumped bail. I’ve got a damn bounty hunter staring at me right now.”
“Fugitive retrieval agent,” she muttered.
“She’s got me cuffed to the friggin’ bed. Plans on dragging me back to Wyoming tomorrow.” He paused. “Shut the fu—” He glanced at her. “Just make the damn call and get back to me first thing tomorrow. And, Arnie, this is your last chance.” Ethan disconnected and threw the cell down. Hard.
No point in pretending she hadn’t been listening. Anyway, the second he’d left her and Lola holding the bond, so to speak, he forfeited his right to privacy. And no, she absolutely would not feel sorry for him. He’d done this to himself.
She watched him inspect the handcuffs and flex his hand. Then he stared up at the ceiling, thumping his head back against the wooden bed rail, working the muscle at his jaw.
“I wouldn’t trust Arnie if I were you,” Sophie said. “At this point you really do need an attorney.”
Ethan brought his chin down, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You know Arnie?”
Oh, crap. This was what she got for being nice. “No, but it sounded like you don’t have confidence in him. So I’m saying, you should go with your instinct.” She shrugged, carefully keeping her gaze level with his. “Didn’t you mention something about calling your agent?”
His eyes continued to bore into hers. He hadn’t so much as blinked. All she could think to do was stare back. She doubted that little slip about Arnie had been the thing that convinced Ethan of her identity. Just because she looked familiar didn’t mean he remembered they’d gone to the same high school together for seven months, one week and two days.
Yeah, okay, so she’d counted. Down to the minute, actually, but when she’d been... Fifteen. Jeez.
“What did he say, anyway?”
“Arnie?”
“Yes, Arnie.” Her phone signaled a new text. She glanced at the brief message. No surprise there. “I texted a friend who works in the sheriff’s office to check on whether the charges were dropped. It seems you already know the answer.”
He tightened his mouth. “Can you recommend an attorney?”
“Not really. I know a few, but I couldn’t say if they’re any good.” Except for Craig, but she tried to stay clear of him. “What about your agent? Bet he knows one.”
“Brian lives in Dallas. I can’t call him this late. But yeah, he knows everybody. I trust he’ll steer me right.”
“You should’ve called him before you jumped bail.”
Ethan sighed. “I didn’t realize I’d jumped bail,” he said with forced patience. “The charges were supposed to have been dropped.”
“What about your parents? I would think they either have someone they use or know of someone.”
“It’s clear you’re not a rodeo fan, yet you know who they are?”
She shrugged. “I think everyone in Beatrice County knows the name Styles. They own that big ranch and rodeo camp near Otter Lake. And didn’t your dad win something like five championship titles for calf roping, and a few more for something else?”
Ethan nodded. “All-around cowboy three years in a row.”
“Even your mom has four gold buckles for barrel racing, right?”
“You get all that from doing homework on me? Or did you already know this stuff?”
“Half and half.”
“So you probably read about my kid sister.” His tone stayed noncommittal and his expression blank.
Nevertheless, she’d bet there were a lot of emotions bubbling under the surface. She’d definitely seen pride in his eyes, but she wondered if there might be some jealousy in the mix.
“Last December Cara won her first championship title on her twenty-first birthday,” he said. “She’ll be competing for her second title next week. She’ll be headed to Vegas with me. Assuming I get to go.” He jerked on the cuffs so hard the post shook.
“Ah.” Sophie nodded.
“Ah?”
“Sibling rivalry. I get it.” She didn’t have any siblings, but she could imagine the pressure Ethan was feeling. And a kid sister besting him? Ouch. “Well, I know barrel racing is a woman’s event, so I’m guessing that’s what she won?”
He nodded.
“Your dad won first place for tying up poor little calves—”
Ethan