Kyle used nibbling kisses to ease the disconnection of their mouths. He pushed up and hopped off the bed.

His cocky grin—completely justified—appeared quickly. “Come on, kitten, let’s hit the dusty trail.”

Damn him for acting like he had the upper hand. Damn him for melting her brain and her resistance with those molten kisses.

She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. “We’re still getting an annulment.”

Kyle was so lost in thought about Celia’s contradictory actions—reminding him of their friendship in one breath and then taking his breath away with such a passionate kiss in the next, that he didn’t notice Breck and his buddies hanging around the concierge stand until Breck started toward them.

Kyle said, “Let me handle this.”

“I don’t need you to speak for me.”

“Then follow my lead, so we don’t get stuck in a pointless argument with him.” Kyle set his hand in the small of her back and brought her closer, expecting Breck would treat her as roughly as he always did, clamping his beefy arms around her, squeezing her in a bear hug, tossing her in the air like a rag doll. He wasn’t letting that happen.

But Breck stopped five feet from them. His focus was concentrated on Celia’s head. “Sugar pie, what happened to your beautiful face?”

She touched the bandage with her right hand. “Minor mishap with some livestock.”

“But you’re okay? Where else are you hurt?”

“My ribs are sore, but besides that, I’m fine.”

“Good. You still look great.” Probably out of reflex, he reached for her hand. “I miss you.”

“Breck. Don’t.”

Breck only then seemed to realize Kyle was standing next to Celia. “Gilchrist. I’m surprised to see you here, bein’s you didn’t finish high enough in the standings in December to compete in the Country Showdown Expo.”

No surprise Breck tossed out a barbed reminder of Kyle’s lackluster finish in the American Finals Rodeo—AFR—the previous month. “Guess I didn’t know I needed an official invite to come to Vegas.”

Breck’s gaze zoomed between the two of them. As if something wasn’t quite right.

Although Kyle had no idea how this Vegas marriage would play out, he wanted to rub it in Breck’s face that Celia was his, even temporarily.

So he did just that. Kyle used his left hand to brush a hair from Celia’s shoulder. “You’ve got so damn much hair, woman.”

Breck’s eyes narrowed first on the ring on Kyle’s hand and then on the matching band on Celia’s. “You’ve gotta be f**king kidding me.” He looked at Celia. “Say it ain’t so.”

Celia glanced at Kyle. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger.

“How long has this been going on? While we were together?” Breck demanded of Celia.

Immediately incensed, Kyle got up in Breck’s face. “Don’t put your shitty morals on her. Celia ain’t like that and you know it. Apologize to my wife, right now.”

“Kyle—”

“He isn’t allowed to insult you, Celia, ever. I’ve watched him do it enough over the last two years and I couldn’t do anything about it then, but I can stop it now.” He didn’t move an inch. “So apologize to her.”

“Jesus. All right, all right, I’m sorry.”

Only then did Kyle back down.

“How long have you two been—”

“Married?” Kyle supplied. “Since last night. We’re just on our way home to Wyoming.”

Breck’s face distorted with an ugly sneer. “Last I knew you didn’t have a pot to piss in. So where are the newlyweds gonna live? In your shitty camper? Or Celia’s horse trailer? Or are you sponging off Celia’s brothers?” He focused on Celia. “I asked you to marry me. And you turned me down for him? A guy who has nothing?”

Jesus. That stung. Was that really how Breck saw him?

Isn’t that how you see yourself?

Celia stomped closer to Breck. “I turned you down because we have vastly different ideas of what commitment means. I’d spent enough nights wondering why you preferred Michael in your bed more often than me.”

Breck glanced around, but Celia had said it in a low tone so no one had overheard. “But Kyle, Celia? Really? One of my best friends? It’s like a knife in my heart.”

“Now you know how I felt every time you were with Michael.”

Breck looked stricken. “But…I never hid that from you, sugar pie.”

“Being honest about the nature of your relationship with Michael didn’t excuse it.” Celia faced Kyle. “We’re done here.”

She definitely didn’t need Kyle speaking for her. She’d proven she could handle herself just fine.

Celia was quiet on the ride to her motel. Kyle didn’t push it—they would have a solid fifteen hours together in the truck, enough time to talk a lot of things through.

Chapter Two

A knee to the head woke Kyle from a sound sleep. Groggy, he sat up and squinted at Celia. “What the hell?”

“You snore like a freakin’ bear. And you sleep like the dead, which ain’t a fun combination at all.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Then he looked out the window. They were on I-80 almost to Cheyenne. He’d slept a solid six hours. “You okay?”