Chapter 34
TRENT
Morning came slow, gray, and heavy. The storm had mostly passed, leaving the world soaked and steaming. The air smelled like wet dirt, crushed leaves, and ozone, but honestly, this was my favorite kind of morning.
Everything looked roughed up but fresh and alive, and Charlotte looked like something out of a damn dream against the backdrop of the rain clouds. With one of my sweatshirts drowning her frame and boots on her feet, she stood beside me on the porch, just quietly looking out with me.
I didn’t think I’d ever felt this full in my life. This fulfilled or satisfied. It turned out that surrendering last night had been the best dang thing I’d done for myself—and it wasn’t only because it’d been a whole night of the best sex I’d ever had, either.
We walked out onto the property to survey the storm damage together, with coffee in our free hands and her tucked under my arm because I wasn’t letting her go.
Not today. Maybe not ever again.
The grass was slick and mud stuck our boots, but she didn’t complain, just holding on to me a little tighter whenever we hit a soft patch.
“That window’s gone too,” I said, nodding toward the east-facing upstairs bedroom. Shards glittered on the ground like someone had dumped a bucket of diamonds. “We’re going to need a couple replacements.”
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? You didn’t throw the hail.”
“No, I meant for everything that happened before that. For stealing your horse. For being irresponsible.”
I squeezed her shoulder before she could gather more guilt. “Hey, you don’t owe me an apology.”
She gave me a look. “I stole your horse.”
“And?” I nudged her gently with my hip. “You also made it back in one piece, didn’t you?”
She muttered something under her breath. A grumble. A very annoyed, very adorable grumble. I tipped my head toward her. “What was that?”
She lifted her chin, refusing to look at me. “I said you proved that you are, in fact, a real cowboy.”
I barked out a laugh. “Did you really have any doubts?”
“I refuse to answer that,” she shot back in that prim, clipped, pure high-strung rich girl defense mechanism, and God, the way it only made me grin wider.
“That right?”
She crossed her arms, still tucked under mine. “Yes. That is right.”
“You know that look won’t scare me off, yeah?” I teased. “If anything, it makes me want to mess with you more.”
Her lips twitched. She tried not to smile, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “Whatever.”
After checking on the horses, we rounded the corner of the barn. A tree limb sprawled across the back road, too thick to drag without the tractor, and a fence panel hung crooked like it had nearly given up.
“Well, if this is it, then it could’ve been a lot worse,” I said.
“I thought it would be.” She leaned into me again, maybe without even realizing it. “Last night, it felt like the world was ending.”
“It wasn’t,” I said softly, letting my hand slide down her arm until our fingers linked. “Besides, you did well.”
She glanced up at me. “I panicked.”
“You were in a heck of a storm on horseback.” I kissed the top of her head. “You handled it better than most.”
She didn’t argue for once, a tiny little smirk breaking out across her lips. “You did do a pretty good job of distracting me. Eventually.”
I laughed. “Well, hey. I had to make you work for it a little bit, didn’t I?”
“No.”
I held her tighter. “It was worth it and you know it.”
She groaned, her head shaking but another smile begging to break free on her lips. “You’re really not very modest.”
“Don’t have any reason to be,” I joked as we traced the fencing, checking for breaks. The whole time, I kept my arm snug around her shoulders.
She fit there like I’d been saving that spot just for her without even knowing it. After a while, she finally glanced up at me again. “You said last night I should check the weather with you before taking a horse out again.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Is that a rule now?”
“It’s a guideline,” I corrected. “A very strong guideline. A guideline with teeth.”
She snorted. “How does a guideline have teeth?”
“The guideline doesn’t, but I do and if you ignore it, I’ll bite you.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and stared up at me, her face flushing bright red. “You will not.”
“I will.” I grinned. “And you’ll like it.”
“Trent!”
“What? I’m just being honest.”
She shook her head again, muttering something about cowboys being incorrigible, but she didn’t stop clinging to my arm or walking close enough that our sides brushed with every step.
“You’ll learn to read the sky,” I told her as we stepped over a fallen branch. “It takes time, but you’ll pick it up.”
From the way her features softened, I knew it mattered to her. “I’d like that.”
“Then I’ll teach you everything I know.”
She tilted her head up at me, her blue eyes bright against the cloudy morning. “Everything?”
“Everything.” I slid my thumb beneath her jaw, tipping her face fully toward mine. “You’re not just visiting here. This is home now. One of ‘em, at least. You need to learn everything about it if I’m going to keep you safe.”
A smile spread on her lips and she didn’t bother trying to hide it this time. “My home.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, drawing her closer and pressing my nose to her hair to breathe her in. “And my wife.”
My wife. Fuck, that’s hot. Too hot for the middle of a muddy pasture, but I wasn’t about to complain. Especially when she slipped her hand into mine again, her fingers weaving through with a confidence she hadn’t had just yesterday.
We finished our walkthrough of the property, both of us damp from the mist still hanging in the air, and I suggested we head over to my parents’ place. “I have to check how the storm treated the lodge.”
“The lodge?”
“That’s what we call the main house. I don’t even really know why. It’s just what it’s called.”
“Sure. Okay. I guess it’s better than The Big House. I still have no idea why you guys nicknamed Uncle Harlan’s home after a prison.” She smiled. “After last night’s chaos, it’ll be good to see that your mom’s okay though, so let’s go.”
We doubled back to get the truck, then drove along the main road since many of the side paths were impassable with all the downed trees.
Twigs and torn leaves littered the driveway leading up to their house when we got there, little rivers cutting across the gravel.
The lawn looked like a pack of wolves had fought a tornado and lost.
Mom was on the front porch in one of her embroidered aprons, her hair in the curlers she must’ve slept in and her hands on her hips like she could glare the storm into apologizing. The moment she spotted us, she waved both arms like she was flagging down a search-and-rescue helicopter.
“Trent! Charlotte! Oh, thank heavens, you’re okay. This yard is an atrocity. My begonias are bald and we have the barbecue coming up.”
Charlotte let out a soft laugh. My chest burst into flames at the sound.
Mom bustled right up to us, grabbing Charlotte by the shoulders in a hug.
“Sweet girl! Are you alright? That storm was awful. Absolutely biblical.” She pulled back and gasped when she took a proper look at us.
“Oh, sugar. You poor thing, you’re soaked. ”
“It’s just a little damp outside,” Charlotte said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, her cheeks pink.
“Well, come in, come in.” She practically shoved us toward the house, calling out for my dad as we went. “Troy! Troy, they’re here.”
My father stepped out a moment later, wiping his hands on a rag even though I could almost guarantee they hadn’t been dirty.
His eyes swung straight to me, then to Charlotte, then back again.
I expected something, a raised eyebrow, a pointed question, or a quiet command to talk in his study so he could interrogate me about what the hell I’d thought I was doing, marrying my best friend’s sister in Vegas.
But none of that came. Instead, he walked right up to Charlotte and extended his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you, honey. Welcome to the family.”
Honey? My brain short-circuited. No grilling? No lecture? No “are you sure about this?” Nothing?
Charlotte shook his offered hand with her natural warmth and that tiny hint of nerves she couldn’t hide. “Thank you, Mr. Shepard.”
“Call me Troy,” he said with a soft smile. It was one I didn’t see very often, usually reserved for one of Sadie’s kids.
I waited for him to look at me and say something fatherly and loaded, but the only thing I got from him was, “Are you two hungry? Your mother made muffins. Some survived the storm, but Mom stress-ate her way through most of ‘em when it started hailing.”
Before either of us could answer, Mom oohed and reached for Charlotte’s hand, her gaze on the ring like she was examining a lost treasure.
“I’m so glad you’re wearing it. It means the world to me that you love it so much.
I never thought I’d love seeing it on someone else’s finger, but I gotta say, you do make it look so good. ”
Charlotte froze. Not dramatically, just the smallest tightening of her shoulders and the light dimming in her expression. It was a subtle shift only someone looking directly at her would catch, but I was and her reaction struck me as wrong. Off.
Mom pulled her inside before I could grab a moment to find out what that had been about, rambling about emergency generators and roof shingles while Dad followed after them, looking amused.
Charlotte walked with them, smiling, nodding, and being gracious as hell, but I saw the little shadow in her eyes. It stayed with her the entire ten minutes we were there.
Finally, when Mom launched into a second tirade about her lawn looking scalped, I stepped in. “Alright, we better get back. We’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do at the house.”
Mom kissed Charlotte’s cheek and Dad patted my back. Then we headed out. I opened the truck door for her and she climbed in quietly, but as soon as we were on the main road, she spoke.
“You never told me,” she said softly. “About the ring.”
I frowned. “I never told you what?”
She looked down at her hand like it wasn’t attached to her. “That it was your mother’s. That it’s been passed down. That she gave it to you when you graduated so you could give it to your future wife.”
Ah. Okay. So that’s where her mind went.
I opened my mouth to explain, but she had one more question and she fired it off like a shot from a bazooka before I could formulate so much as a single word. “Did Savannah wear it too?”
Instantly annoyed, I blew out a breath, pulled the truck onto the shoulder, and threw it into park.
The engine idled, rain tapping lightly on the windshield.
I shut it off completely. It was time to put an end to this fucking Savannah thing, once and for all, and I wasn’t starting this truck again until it was done.
That woman had taken enough from me. I wasn’t about to let her take the happiness that Charlotte and I were only beginning to find, too. Only, Charlotte kept hurling that fucking name at me like an accusation of wrongdoing, and I was over it.
“Alright,” I said, my voice low as I turned to face her. “Let’s talk about this. What exactly would you like to know?”