Chapter 14
Appreciating the View
Tripp
Wes grumbled about having to saddle a third horse since I invited Quinn to come out with us, but he shut up when I reminded him she won’t get many chances once Pops is home.
She’s dressed and ready to go when I knock on the door—jeans hugging her thighs and a T-shirt with a neckline that dips low enough to give me the type of inappropriate thoughts I shouldn’t be having about my best friend’s sister.
But I’m finding it impossible to have anything but inappropriate thoughts after last night’s conversation.
Her hair is knotted at the base of her neck, and that wide-brimmed hat she’s wearing looks more like something out of a magazine than a farm supply store, but it’ll keep the sun off.
She avoids my gaze, clearly still embarrassed about last night. Somehow, I manage to sound almost normal when I greet her, despite tossing and turning all night thinking about fulfilling every single one of the fantasies on her list.
“Ready, Quinnie?”
“Let me grab my kit, just in case. Better safe than sorry.”
I nod. “I’ll meet you at the stable. I don’t want to hear Wes bitch if I don’t help him tack up the horses.”
That—and it’s getting harder and harder to be alone with her.
Last night, I couldn’t get her out of my head. Not the way she’d danced on the bar. Not how she’d felt curled up beside me in the bed of my truck. Not the way she’d admitted no man had ever made her come while she was tucked so perfectly up against me.
What the hell’s the matter with me?
I shouldn’t even be thinking about messing around with Quinn. There are a hundred reasons it’s a bad idea.
Reason number one: Wes would kill me. He knew way too much about what I was off doing in my late teens and early twenties to ever be okay with me and Quinn being together.
Reason number two: this town is small and the ranch is smaller. Someone was bound to figure it out, and when they did, they’d tell Wes. (See reason number one.)
Reason number three: I promised my dad I’d quit hooking up just for the hell of it—that I’d make sure it meant something. Doing this casual thing with Quinn would break that promise.
But would it really be meaningless with her?
Not with our history.
Not when she looks at me like I’m someone worth trusting.
Or maybe that’s just what I’m telling myself so I don’t feel like a piece of shit if I end up saying yes.
Five years of celibacy, and what do I have to show for it? No wife. No kids. No sign of that perfect life my dad thought I should be chasing. All those extra bedrooms I built into that house are still empty.
Maybe meaningless sex wasn’t the problem. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just not the kind of guy women want forever with.
None of them have ever really mattered. But Quinn?
She’s always meant something to me. Even though I’ve never figured out what exactly.
Loyalty to Wes should still be reason enough to tell her no. But damn if it isn’t getting harder to care when I think about sneaking around with her. It’s sounding better by the second.
Just once. Just to see.
Why the hell am I overthinking this? That’s Wes’ thing. I’m the act-now, think-later guy. Always have been.
Getting old is turning me into him, and fuck that. I don’t want to turn into that grumpy stick in the mud.
Maybe it’s time I loosen my leash a bit. Dip a toe into the deep end again. Get back in the saddle.
It’s been five years since I’ve seen any action other than my hand. And for some reason, Quinn makes it feel like all that pent-up energy’s been compounding—month after month, year after year—and now it’s just sitting there, ready to detonate.
Even as a teen, I never had this much trouble keeping my dick in check around her. But now? He’s fully alert, ready to stand at attention every time I make her smile.
Now, I can’t stop wondering how perfectly I’d fit inside her. How tight she’d feel wrapped around me. How wet and desperate she’d be—for me.
Damn it.
I blow out a sharp breath, trying to rein myself in.
Settle down, little buddy. You’ve got to spend the whole day with her—and her older brother.
But it’s hard to forget when your best friend’s little sister drops a confession like that. It’s not the kind of thing I’m likely to shake. Ever.
Wes is butchering some Garth Brooks song when I step into the stable, midway through tacking up Luci. The gelding used to spook at every unfamiliar sound, but you wouldn’t know it now. After all the time Wes and Sawyer spent training him, he’s nearly as devoted to Wes as Wes is to him.
I greet June and lead her to the hitching post before grabbing a saddle. I’m halfway through tacking her up when Quinn walks in, and I freeze—momentarily distracted by the way the sunrise kisses her skin, giving her a near-ethereal glow. She looks like a damn goddess.
June’s ears twitch as Quinn smiles, soft and serene, offering the horse the back of her hand. The mare chuffs.
“Hey, June girl. You ready to go riding?”
June shifts her weight, ready to get this show on the road.
“I still need to tack up Cash.”
“I can do it,” she says, already ducking into the tack room. She grabs Cash’s saddle, but I pluck it from her hands before she can haul it across the stable.
“I can carry it,” she huffs.
“I’ve got it. Go grab Cash from his stall and bring him outside.” I let her brush past me in the cramped tack room, keeping both hands glued to the saddle.
God knows I want to steady her—hands on her hips, guiding her around the mess of equipment Wes left strewn across the floor.
“Since when are you such a gentleman?” Wes grumbles from Luci’s stall.
“I’ve always been a gentleman, asshole,” I holler over my shoulder as I stalk out of the stable. “You just weren’t around to see it until recently.”
Wes had been living in the city, same as Quinn, until last fall. He’d only come back to talk Pops into selling the ranch after his first heart attack—and somehow ended up falling for the place all over again. I guess this place has a way of pulling you in and making you want to stick around.
Quinn and Cash make a beautiful pair walking out of the stable—light and dark, soft and strong, steady and solid.
“You’re so handsome,” she says, scratching Cash behind his ears before slipping the lead into the hitching ring.
“Aw, thanks, Quinnie. I’m not told that nearly often enough for my liking,” I say as I lift the heavy saddle onto Cash’s back.
“I was talking to the horse, Casanova.” She pats my cheek playfully and steps in front of me, bending over to reach the cinch.
I grunt, stepping back quickly so her ass doesn’t press against me. The last thing I need before getting in the saddle is a hard-on.
“You two ready yet?” I tear my gaze away from Quinn’s ass at the sound of Wes’ griping.
Guilt flickers through me, but I shrug it off quickly. I was just looking. No harm in appreciating the view.
I clear my throat. “Just about,” I say, rushing back to June to make sure I got her billet straps threaded and snug.
We ride out to the pasture where part of the breeding herd that has already calved grazes. I can feel Quinn’s excitement as soon as we get close enough to see the black dots on the horizon.
Luckily, it’s been a warm early spring, so we haven’t had to worry about calving in the cold. Now it’s time to move the cows that haven’t calved yet—cleaner pastures mean safer newborns. It’s extra work in the spring, shifting them more often, but worth it to keep them healthy.
“So, we’re moving them all to a new pasture?” Quinn asks, taking stock of the herd from atop Cash.
“Not all of them.” I shift in the saddle and gesture toward the grazing pairs. “The cow/calf pairs that were born here will stay put for now—at least until the calves are big enough to join the older pairs in the bigger pasture. We’re just moving the cows that haven’t calved yet.”
She nods. “Good. That should help prevent disease spreading to the newborns.”
“That’s the idea.” I click my tongue at June, easing her forward a few steps.
A slow grin pulls at my mouth as I glance over. “Think you can keep up with the boys, Quinnie?”
“I never had a problem keeping up with you two before, did I?” she shoots back, brow arched.
“Fair point," I say.
And before I can fire back with anything better, she nudges Cash into a gallop and takes off after Wes, leaving me and my smart mouth in the dust.
After a full day in the saddle and checking over all the new calves the best she could without getting trampled by the mamas, Quinn is hurting. She winces with every limping step, and her hand presses against her lower back.
Wes took off to shower and check on Pops right after we got back to the stable, leaving me and Quinn to untack the horses and muck out the stalls.
“Go sit down,” I order Quinn.
“No, I can help,” she insists, hissing through her teeth as she tries to lift the forty-pound saddle off June—and promptly drops it.
I shoot her a knowing look. “Is being stubborn required to be a Dawson? For fuck’s sake, woman. You’re saddle sore. It’s been ages since you’ve been in the saddle for a full day. Sit your ass down and let me do what Wes is payin’ me to do.”
She groans. “I’ll put June in her stall and let you get the saddle.”
I shake my head. “The stalls still need mucked out.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll muck out the stalls then.”
I heave a loud sigh. “Stubborn as mules, the lot of you.”
She makes a face that pulls a laugh from my chest.
“I saw that,” I tease.
“Good. I wanted you to see it,” she calls from the stable, shovel already in hand.
We fall into the rhythm of the work—me untacking the horses; her mucking out the stalls. She fills the water buckets; I throw down fresh hay.
In no time we have the horses back in their stalls, and we’ve both worked up a sweat. She wrinkles her nose as she wipes the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.
“God, I need to shower. I reek.”
I snort. She smells like a hard day’s work. It’s all relative. She doesn’t smell any worse than a pasture full of cattle shit.
“You don’t smell that bad.”
“Such a charmer,” she mumbles. “Thanks, Casanova.”
Before I can stop the words, they spill past my lips. “You should come over to my place.”
“What?”
“I mean—after you shower,” I add quickly. “I’ll cook us something for supper.”
She looks like she’s about to tell me no, so I add the cherry on top.
“I’ve got a hot tub. Thought you might want to soak those sore muscles.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh my God, that sounds like heaven.”
My lips tug up at the corners. “Great. I’ll text you the address.”
“I almost forgot you don't live with your mom anymore.”
I snort. “Don’t say it like that. It’s not like I was living with her until I was thirty.”
She rolls her eyes. “Being back in Cottonwood Creek just feels the same as it used to. I forget we’re all grown up now.”
“Yeah, but some things never change.”
Like how I’m still sitting here trying to keep myself from wanting her after all these years.
Her drunken suggestion from last night echoes through my head, and I start to wonder if this hot tub invitation is more about testing the waters with her than offering her a way to relax.
Fuck me.