Bucked (The Invincibles Book 6)

  Bucked

  Heather Slade

  The Invincibles Book Six

  Copyright © 2020 by Heather Slade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-953626-01-1

  Contents

  Bucked

  1. Buck

  2. Stella

  3. Buck

  4. Stella

  5. Buck

  6. Buck

  7. Stella

  8. Buck

  9. Stella

  10. Buck

  11. Stella

  12. Buck

  13. Stella

  14. Buck

  15. Stella

  16. Buck

  17. Stella

  18. Buck

  19. Stella

  20. Buck

  21. Stella

  22. Buck

  23. Buck

  24. Stella

  25. Buck

  26. Stella

  27. Buck

  28. Stella

  29. Buck

  30. Stella

  31. Buck

  32. Stella

  33. Buck

  34. Stella

  35. Buck

  36. Stella

  37. Buck

  38. Stella

  39. Buck

  40. Stella

  Epilogue

  Want more?

  Porter

  About the Author

  Also by Heather Slade

  bucked

  /buhkt/

  verb

  to resist, oppose, defy

  1

  Buck

  “How are you holding up?” I whispered in the ear of the woman standing beside me.

  “About as well as you are,” she whispered back as we watched the woman I’d fallen hopelessly in love with walk down the aisle toward the man she was marrying instead of me.

  My plus-one, Stella, and I had spent a couple of nights on the phone, drinking and drowning in our shared misery since she was equally in love with the groom. I was sure tonight would be no different.

  We turned when Ali, the bride, reached Cope, the groom, who stood with the minister who would marry them. It wasn’t the bride who captured my gaze, though. It was Stella. She looked so damn pretty today I almost swallowed my tongue when I picked her up at her apartment.

  “Stop that,” she’d said, punching my arm.

  “Stop what?”

  “Looking at me like I’m really your date.”

  I wanted to tell her she really was my date and that she was breathtaking. But I wouldn’t put her on the spot like that. The woman, whose real first name I didn’t know—I’d only heard her referred to as either TJ or Stella—had been in love with Sumner Copeland since the day I met her. It didn’t matter that it was unrequited.

  He had given her the nickname Stella. All the more reason for me not to use it. Maybe today would be the day I stopped. Maybe it would also be the day I told TJ how I really felt about her, and that instead of being her convenient plus-one, I wanted to be the real thing.

  I shook my head at my foolishness. Not only would she carry a torch for Cope for-fucking-ever, she was a city girl. Born and raised. I was the exact opposite. I’d grown up on a ranch, shoveling shit and never able to get the dirt out from under my fingernails.

  The thing we had in common, other than being in love with people who weren’t in love with us, was that we’d both traveled the world for our jobs.

  She was an award-winning journalist, and up until recently, I had been an agent with the CIA. I’d retired, but still worked in the business, just for a private intelligence firm instead.

  That was how TJ and I met. She was covering a trial involving Cope, during which Ali’s safety had been compromised. I’d been assigned to an op involving asset protection—for Ali.

  I glanced at my date again when the minister began the ceremony. Instead of looking at Cope, TJ was looking at me, and she was breathtaking. From the day I first met her, I found it ironic that of all the women I’d known, she was among the most beautiful yet she was utterly unaware of it.

  She wasn’t just beautiful. She was smart, clever, and funny. There were times she made me laugh so hard I thought I’d split a gut. She was also a force of nature when she dug her heels into a story like the one she’d been reporting on when we met.

  The woman was the total package, and I was lucky enough to get to spend time with her.

  To think I’d met her through another woman I loved. But had I really? Or was it just lust? Somewhere along the line, even that had changed. Now when I looked at Ali, I was reminded of my younger sister, Flynn. Ali was no longer the woman whose pants I wanted to peel from her body. Now Stella—TJ—was the only woman whose naked body I wanted to hold next to mine.

  2

  Stella

  “You clean up good,” I’d said to Buck when he picked me up at my apartment. What I’d almost blurted out was he looked really fucking hot. So hot, I wanted to take his clothes off piece by piece and spend the afternoon exploring his naked body rather than attend the wedding of the guy I’d spent the last few years secretly in love with.

  Was that even true? Had I been in love with Cope, or was it just lust? Before Ali was in his life, I’d had plenty of fantasies in which he was the star. Porn star, if I was honest. But it was more than that. There’d been a time I believed I had a shot at a relationship with him.

  No point in going down that lane of memories on a day like today. Instead, I looked Buck up and down when I saw him doing the same thing to me.

  The man was every cowboy fantasy I’d ever had, come to life. Add in his scruffy beard and long hair, and he was the exact opposite of Sumner Copeland. No less hot. Actually, more so. Way hotter.

  Unfortunately, one of the things Buck and Cope had in common represented the reason my hot cowboy fantasies would never come to life. They were both hopelessly in love with Ali Graham Mancuso, who in about fifteen minutes, would add Copeland to her name.

  Why had I agreed to even come to the wedding? Especially with Buck? If I’d said no, I wouldn’t be forced to watch the man I wished I’d had sex with at least once get married while standing next to the man I wished I could have sex with right now. And by right now, I meant drag him back to that sexy-as-fuck pickup he drove us here in and ride him like the cowboy he was.

  I clenched my thighs together when I felt Buck’s hand brush against mine. That’s all it took. One simple touch. Then he made it worse. He leaned over, put his mouth next to my ear, and whispered. It didn’t matter what he said. I couldn’t think straight enough to hear it anyway.

  I turned my head before he pulled away. His lips were close enough that I could kiss them, if only I had the balls to do it.

  Instead, I turned back in time to see Cope kiss the shit out of Ali when the minister pronounced them man and wife. Damn. I really didn’t need to see that.

  “What did you say?” I whispered to Buck.

  He leaned into me like he had a minute ago. “I said, you look more beautiful than the bride, Stella.”

  “Thank you, Buck, but—”

  “Way more beautiful.” I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck.

  What in the hell was Buck doing? I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t go down the same road of a hotter-than-hell younger guy flirting with me to the point where I couldn’t tell the difference between what was real and what was him just playing me.

  “Excuse me.” I brushed past him even before Cope and Ali had finished the recessional, and hurried off in the direction of the house, hoping no one had noticed me leave on the side aisle.

  I raced into the restroom, wishing I could splash cold water on my face, but that would ruin the makeup it took me over an hour to put on, since I never wore it.

  Instead, I took several deep breaths. “Buck the fuck up, buttercup,” I said to the mirror, shaking my head at the use of the name of the man who had me so flustered that I’d made a jackass out of myself by rushing away from the wedding.

  I squared my shoulders, took one last look in the mirror, and opened the bathroom door.

  Just outside, there he stood. His arm was raised, and he leaned against the doorjamb. “Hey, Stella, you and me need to talk.”

  “What about?”

  Buck looked down at his phone. “I, uh, gotta leave. I’m real sorry to do this to you, but there’s an emergency at home.”

  “Oh! Of course. An emergency? Oh my God. Go. Don’t worry about me. Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do? I mean, what kind of emergency?”

  Buck gave me one of his lazy, panty-melting grins and put his hand on my shoulder. “Slow down, darlin’.”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered, shaking my head. I never got nervous and I never rambled. Not ever. I was a tough-as-nails journalist who’d never shied away from a story, no matter who or what it was about. I’d get in anyone’s face—the most hardened criminals or the most corrupt politicians. Even Cope hadn’t had the same effect on me that Buck did. Being this close to him turned my brain to mush. Not to mention making me feel like a damn cougar.

  “Look, um, do you want me to arrange for a car service to give you a lift home later?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “You sure? Cause—”

  I raised a brow and folded my arms.

  “Right. I better be on my way, then.”

  I took a step back and held up one hand in a half wave. “Goodbye, Buck.”

  “Bye, Stella.”

  As I watched him walk away, every fantasy I’d had about him and me and his sexy-as-fuck pickup, dissolved into an image of me alone at home with a jug of wine and a large pizza.

  “Where’s Buck?” asked Ali when she and Cope made the rounds, visiting guest tables after dinner.

  “Emergency at home,” I muttered, finishing off my third Manhattan.

  “Damn,” mumbled Cope, shaking his head. “That’s too bad.”

  I looked at Ali, who seemed as confused as me. “What’s too bad?”

  “His dad must’ve died.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  “He’s been ill. I was afraid he might not make it to the wedding.”

  He’d told Cope he might not make it to the wedding but hadn’t informed me, his date? “Men are such assholes,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m out of here.” I kissed Ali’s cheek and saluted Cope.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he offered.

  “I’d really rather you didn’t.” I turned too quickly and grabbed the back of my chair when the effects of the alcohol I’d just pounded made me dizzy. Stumbling my way out of Cope’s parents’ yard would be the fucking cherry on the top of my ice cream sundae of a day.

  “I’ve got this,” I heard one of the other guys I’d met through Cope, say. The first time I met Ritter “Rock” Johnson, I was convinced he was Dwayne’s twin although he swore there was no family connection.

  “Let’s get you home, Stella.”

  “Appreciate it, Rock.” I put one arm through his and waved with the other. “Have fun, lovebirds.”

  “I’m sure Buck feels bad about having to leave like he did,” said Rock as we walked out.

  “According to Cope, his father died.”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I do know he’s been sick.”

  It made me sad that Buck hadn’t talked to me about his dad. I mean, I get he wouldn’t want to at the wedding, but he could’ve told me on our way here. Or even when we talked last night. I guess we weren’t as good of friends as I thought we were.

  “Hang on, and I’ll walk you up,” said Rock when he pulled up to my building.

  I pointed to the three doormen, who looked like they were standing guard at the entrance. “I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  “Thanks, Rock.” I waved behind me.

  By the time I got to the elevator, my shoes were off and tucked under my arm. I couldn’t wait to get the rest of this getup off and crawl into a nice, hot bath.

  As if on cue, moments after I closed the apartment door behind me, my cell rang.

  “Hey, Aunt Barb. I just walked in.” There were times I thought the woman must have my apartment surveilled, or at least bugged, given how she always seemed to know when I was here.

  “How was the wedding?”

  “It was fine.” My beloved aunt had always had an issue with my “inappropriate crush on a CIA handler,” whom she refused to refer to by name.

  Barbara Hunter was my mother’s sister and the woman who’d raised me from the age of nine when my mom died from complications brought on by AIDS. Barb had been, and to a certain extent still was, one of the most revered female investigative reporters in the business.

  The list of awards she’d earned over the years was lengthy, but the one she prized above all others was her Pulitzer for Public Service Reporting. She was given the gold medal for her early reporting on misconceptions about the causes of HIV and AIDS, as well as the predicted outcomes. Because of her exhaustive research, many of the stigmas associated with the virus were lessened.

  My aunt had done that work while caring for my mother and me. After my mother’s death, Barb took on raising me full-time. She’d still worked as a reporter, but on less hard-hitting news stories and ones that didn’t require much travel.

  “What progress have you made on what I’ve given you?”

  I sighed. “Working on it.”

  “Hmm.”

  The three Manhattans I’d downed in rapid succession were now manifesting themselves in the form of a raging headache, not to mention a bit of nausea.

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Right now, there’s a hot bath calling my name.”

  “TJ, I’m—”

  “Barb, I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.” I ended the call before she could say anything more and turned off my phone. She’d let me have it in the morning for hanging up on her, but I’d be better equipped to handle it then than I was now, when the last thing I wanted to do was talk about the litany of investigations she wanted me to follow up on. It was more than wanting me to take them on; she demanded I did.

  I got it. I mean, I really did. Aunt Barb hadn’t been ready to quit when her last big story ended her career in scandal. Ever since, she’d been living her life vicariously through mine.

  3

  Buck

  “Can I get you another?” asked the bartender in the lounge at BWI, where I waited for my flight.

  “One more. Thanks.” I leaned against the back of the barstool and wondered if I should add a shot to the beer I’d ordered. By the time I landed in Denver, its effect would have worn off, and that’s when I’d really need it.

  My father was dead. It would take some time for me to wrap my head around him being gone, and not because I wasn’t prepared for it to happen. I just figured the old man was cantankerous enough to whip cancer’s ass for a few more months.

  “What the fuck?” I mumbled under my breath before ordering the shot I wasn’t sure I should have, but knew I needed.

  I waited until the last possible minute to board the plane, wondering how pissed Stella was at me for leaving her at Cope and Ali’s wedding by herself. I probably should’ve warned her of the possibility, but the doctors had given my pop six months to live four years ago.

  Plus, Stella was a reporter, and a damn good one. The mere mention of my father would have led to questions I didn’t want to answer. They’d start out innocently enough, but once she picked up on my discomfort, she wouldn’t have been able to help herself; our conversation would have turned into an interrogation without her even realizing it was happening.

  Stella. Wrapping my head around the idea that she and I were over before I’d had the balls to get anything started, was going to be hard too.

  While I told her she looked pretty today, the words I’d almost said were “fucking hot.” I laughed to myself. Why hadn’t I? Stella, of all people, would’ve preferred the edgier comment. And maybe that was why I kept it softer—to see the blush on her cheeks at the word she didn’t hear often enough.

  I grabbed my bag and threw a twenty on the bar when I heard the final boarding call for my flight. What I’d give to not have to get on the plane that would take me to the home I’d never wanted to go back to.

  Four agonizing hours later, I landed in Denver. Since it was already dark, there was no point in driving over to the ranch tonight; by the time I rented a vehicle and drove over, it would be past two in the morning. Instead, I’d try to get as far on the other side of Denver as I could. Maybe stop in Conifer or Bailey.

  I stood to get my bag out of the overhead and banged into someone behind me. “Sorry about that,” I said, turning around.