Free Fighting Chance (Misty Grove Book 1) by Victoria Paige

She couldn’t believe he would reveal such a thing to an outsider like the sheriff.  
    Trent’s face had locked up in anger and he couldn’t control his muttered, “What the fuck?”
    “I have blood sugar issues,” she fibbed quickly. “The sugar in the barbecue sauce is bad for me.”
    Mac coughed. “Well, as I said, I’ll be at the bunkhouse.”
    She would be having words with Dugal McKenzie later. As fond as she was of the old man with his head of white hair and his sun-weathered face, he could be a pain in the ass with his meddling. She knew he meant well and wanted her to have a normal life, but with the town’s future at stake, keeping Wyatt Stratford III happy was a small price to pay.  
    Cassie watched Mac’s lanky form walk away, leaving her under the scrutinizing gaze of Trent Stone. She could feel his eyes stabbing her from his position five feet away.
    When the ranch manager was out of earshot, Trent stalked toward her, stopping six inches from her. She looked up at him, daring him to say his worst.
    “What exactly is your relationship with Wyatt Stratford?” he asked softly.
    “He’s a concerned friend, that’s all.”
    “For all your sass and bluster, hellcat, you’re not a very good liar.” His jaw tightened reflexively as if fighting for control. Well, Cassie knew what had happened the last time he’d lost control and she wasn’t hanging around for a repeat, although a treacherous shiver of anticipation snaked up her spine.
    She broke eye contact and brushed past him. Exiting the barn, she marched toward the ranch house. Better to lock him out from there. “Who are you to judge what’s a lie and what’s not. And what do you care?” She threw over her shoulder. Cassie spotted his Silverado parked in front of her home.  
    “I want you to”—she whirled around suddenly and slammed into a brick wall—“Umph!”
    Big hands steadied her and she was once again staring up into heated eyes that were definitely pissed off.
    “I want to know what the hell is going on?” Trent growled. “So help me God, Cassie, I will haul you, Stratford, and your brother in for questioning.”
    “On what grounds?” she shrieked, losing whatever patience she had left with him.
    Trent paused. “I’ll make something up. Abuse, maybe. He certainly has you on a tight leash.”
    “Well, you’re certainly abusing your authority.” She kicked him childishly in the shin.
    “Goddammit, woman,” he grunted, releasing her.
    Cassie took the opportunity to escape. She had reached the bottom of the porch steps when the back of her tank top stretched, ripped, and she was yanked backward. She reacted on pure instinct and training. She threw back her elbow and caught Trent square on the chest. She followed up with a left hook, but because he was so tall, it glanced off his jaw.  
    “Jesus Christ,” Trent muttered as he caught her right fist before it connected with his cheekbone. He used his grip on her hand to draw her closer and she used that leverage to slide under him, intending to throw him over her hip. But she hesitated, costing her momentum that had her thrown over his shoulder. Cassie contemplated several moves to get free, but Trent’s stinging slap on her butt made her hesitate. Again.
    “Don’t you dare, Cassie,” Trent growled. “I swear to God, woman, I’m this close to turning you over my knee and blistering that ass until you can’t sit for days.” The door to the house sprung open as she heard him muttering about unlocked doors.
    As violent as their encounter had become, he gently lowered her to the floor. He stepped back from her with eyes alert and narrowed. “How’s your leg? Did I hurt you?”
    “It’s fine. No, you didn’t hurt me.”
    “Where did you learn to fight?”
    “I’m sure you know there’s a boxing gym attached to the garage in town. Only pastime here besides horses.”
    Trent nodded once as if accepting her answer, but his face remained skeptical.