Chapter 45 Not a Whole Lot of Sleeping
Not a Whole Lot of Sleeping
Quinn
Winston roots around the pen, finding the apples and carrots I’ve hidden under things. He has mud caked on his flanks from rolling around after getting out of his little pool. When he finds the last one, he gives a loud snort and waddles my way.
“Aw, who’s a sweet boy?” I coo at him as I scratch behind his ears.
“That’s the happiest pig I’ve ever seen,” Pops says, startling me.
The last few days have flown by. Pops is returning to a less surly version of himself now that he can do most things on his own. He’s still not out driving cattle with Tripp and Wes, but I know he’s been working in physical therapy so he can handle a full day in the saddle again.
I peer at him from across the pen where he leans on the post. “I didn’t hear you come out.”
“I was just getting some fresh air. I didn’t hear you get back from the clinic.”
Since he’s more independent, I’ve been spending mornings helping Dr. Dillard at the clinic. He pays in cash and seems eager to have someone young to do the more tedious jobs. He’s even been letting me ride along on his large-animal calls, which beats being cooped up in a sterile office all day.
“I was just giving Winnie some treats before I shower.”
“You tryna fatten him up for slaughter?”
“Pops,” I groan. “He’s a pet, not food.”
“Suit yourself. Sawyer’s right, though. He’d probably make some good bacon.”
I clap my hands over Winnie’s ears. “No bacon talk in front of my pig.”
“You decided what you’re doing with him when you go back?” Pops asks.
It’s an innocuous enough question, but the look on his face tells me it’s not as innocent as it appears on the surface.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it much.”
Pops’ lips curl up in a smile. “That so? Someone have you thinking about stickin’ around?”
I roll my eyes, pleading with my heart not to beat out of my chest and give me away. “Yeah, my senile grandfather who can’t keep to a diet and thinks everything that’s not red meat or covered in grease tastes like cardboard.”
Pops gives a dry chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know ‘bout that. Seems more likely it’s whoever you keep sneakin‘ off to see the second I go to bed.”
I stop scratching Winnie and jolt upright. “I’m not—"
Pops’ eyes glint. “Or maybe it’s Tripp since I caught him slinkin' out of your room the other night when you both thought I was sound asleep.”
Shock twists through my gut, sharp enough to make me nauseous. Winston grunts, nudging me with his nose so I’ll keep scratching him.
“It’s not what you think,” I gasp out.
“Honestly, I don’t know who you’re tryin' to fool. You two have been gaga over each other for ages. It’s about time y’all did something about it.”
My gaze flashes to his. “Does Wes know?”
“Well, no. I wasn’t gonna tell him, and he’s been a little too preoccupied with the ranch lately to notice what’s happenin' right under his nose. I, on the other hand, have had plenty of time on my hands.”
“You can’t tell Wes. He would kill us.”
Pops’ eyes narrow. “And why’s that? Last I checked, the two of you were grown-ass adults who can make your own decisions and manage your own love lives. Life’s too short not to get some while the gettin’s good.”
My cheeks burn, and I toss a carrot at him, but he ducks out of the way, more agile than I gave him credit for.
“If we could not talk about my sex life, that would be great.”
His fingers comb through his mustache idly. “Have you told Tripp yet?”
“Told him what?” I mutter, still trying to come to terms with the fact that Pops knows I’m sleeping with Wes’ best friend.
“That you’re in love with him.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like he has zero doubt in his mind about it.
“I don’t—I’m not—" I stumble over my words.
I want to deny it, but damn it, he’s right.
My shoulders slump in defeat, and Winston snuffles around by my feet in search of more carrots, oblivious to my implosion. “I, uh, got a job offer. In Denver. I didn’t want to tell him when it might not make any difference.”
And because I’d been sure there was no way he felt the same. Tripp’s always been smart enough not to get tangled up in feelings, and I made the rules of this arrangement plenty clear. No feelings. Just a checklist and some good times between friends.
But lately? It has felt like more. Like maybe we’re both going back on that pinky swear we made in his hot tub two months ago.
He nods, slow and sure. “Now that is a pickle. I’m sure the two of you could figure out some kind of solution. You’re smart kids.”
I roll my eyes. Mom had said almost the same thing when I'd called to tell her about my job offer. “What happened to you all telling us what we should do?”
“I s’pose you grew up, and we learned when to back off. Though I considered forbidding you from keeping that damn nuisance,” he says, nodding at the pig.
I frown. “He’s not a nuisance. He’s family.”
“Must come from your mother’s side.”
Pops chuckles, and I give him a reluctant smile. Winston lets out a satisfied grunt and flops back into the mud.
“Come on,” Pops says. “You should clean up before Sawyer finishes up whatever supper she’s cookin' us tonight.”
Winston grunts like he’s disappointed the show’s over, flopping into the mud again. I give him one last scratch behind the ears before trailing Pops inside the old farmhouse.
By the time I’m finished cleaning up, the house is full of the sounds of the ranch family. Sawyer’s distinctive laugh echoes up the stairs as the smell of garlic and herbs weaves through the soap-scented steam. It feels like home in the best way—the most important way.
I peer into the mirror, surprised to find my eyes bright and full of life. There's a vibrancy there I'm not sure I've seen before. I wrap myself in a towel and slip into my bedroom.
The door clicks closed behind me, and a hand covers my mouth.
I freeze, my heart a herd of wild horses galloping in my chest as my towel shifts, exposing a breast. The heat of his breath fans over my cheek—hot and unsteady, like he'd run a mile to get to me—or more likely, climbed a tree and crawled in my window.
At my startled gasp, his lips brush over my neck. “Shh. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tripp rasps.
I try to turn to glare at him, but he holds me caged in his arms, my back to his front.
“I just wanted to get a chance to touch you before I have to pretend in front of everyone downstairs.”
I swallow my growl as he finally removes his hand from my mouth.
“You almost gave me a heart attack.” My tone is biting, but I find myself melting into him, despite the fact there’s a house full of people downstairs—including my very large, very overprotective brother.
“Sorry. I was gonna come in the front door, and then I... I just wanted to kiss you.”
He allows me room to turn in his arms, and I think I see vulnerability flicker briefly in his eyes as we stand nose-to-nose. But a moment later it’s gone, and he’s smiling at me, dimples denting his cheeks in a cocky grin.
“Besides, it’s kind of hot thinking about doing it in here while everyone else is downstairs.” His fingers slide under the towel wrapped around me.
“We can’t,” I whisper. “Pops knows.”
“That didn’t stop me from making you come on my tongue last night,” he says, his mouth doing sinful things to my neck.
“You knew?” I gasp out.
His fingers caress the curve of my breast slowly, almost reverently. I try to hold on to my outrage that Tripp was aware Pops knew about our little trysts, but his hands make that extremely difficult; my brain always gets too jumbled when I’m with him.
“He didn’t seem to mind, and he was actually pretty discreet for Pops. He gave Wes way more shit about Sawyer.”
“But everyone’s—"
“Don’t pretend you don’t like the challenge of it, Quinnie. I know you love the idea of sneaking around.”
God damn it all, I do.
Still.
But more, I love sneaking around with him. It wouldn’t be nearly this much fun with anyone else.
My legs wobble, and I’m on the brink of caving—of letting him take me right here and now—but the sharp knock on the door freezes the heat beginning to stir in my belly.
“Dinner’s ready,” Sawyer’s voice is muffled through the door.
“‘Kay,” I croak out.
“And Quinn,” Sawyer says caustically, “Wes was a little concerned with how long it was taking Tripp to check on things in the barn, so he went to see what was up. If he’s in there with you, he might want to get downstairs before Wes comes back if he’s attached to his balls.”
“Shit,” Tripp mumbles against my neck.
“He’s coming,” I whisper-yell.
“I didn’t need to know what stage of intercourse you were at. Just get downstairs by the time your brother gets back inside.”
Tripp’s chuckle makes goosebumps pop up on my skin. My stomach flips and my heart stutters. I live for that sound now. The rumble of it in his chest where my hand is resting, his breath fanning over my neck.
“Oh God. That’s not what I meant.”
But it doesn’t matter because I can already hear her footsteps pounding down the stairs.
Tripp hastily kisses me, his lips searing me with a heat I’ve come to know all too well these last weeks. When he steps away from me and walks out my bedroom door, a blanket of cold falls over me.
I quickly dress and follow him downstairs less than a minute later, my hair tied back in an untidy braid.
Wes comes stomping through the door as I slip into the kitchen, avoiding Sawyer’s gaze.
“Where the hell were you?” Wes asks Tripp.
He shrugs. “I just went to give Winston a treat.”
“Christ, you’re as obsessed with that damn pig as Quinn is,” he grumbles.
Sawyer snorts, and I shake my head at her aggressively, praying she doesn’t say anything.
She just rolls her eyes and slams the food on the table. “Come and get it.”
Pops is already at the table, watching us all with what can only be described as utter fucking delight.
Discomfort worms through me, but one glance at Tripp tells me he’s totally in his element, leaning back and completely at ease with that damn smile plastered on his handsome face.
“It smells great, Red,” Wes says, giving Sawyer a rare smile. It’s a look he saves just for her, and my heart warms a little to see how happy he is here.
Chairs scrape against the floor, and dishes and silverware clatter as everyone fills their plates with food.
I note that Pops’ face is carefully fixed in a neutral expression as he eyes the food. Even Pops is a little scared to cross Sawyer.
Tripp’s fingers brush over the bare skin of my thigh idly under the table, and I tense under his comfortable touch.
It’s not a touch meant to arouse, but one done without intention or an end in mind.
It’s simple contact—something Tripp craves, even in a room full of people with my brother’s eyes focused a little too suspiciously on us.
I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it. He’s become so accustomed to touching me whenever he wants, he’s forgotten we aren’t alone here.
I try to swallow around the piece of chicken caught in my throat as Wes’ eyes narrow on Tripp, who’s talking about his old partner, Brooks, coming to Cottonwood Creek to take a look at the ranch.
Wes mumbles a brief response and then skewers me with a direct look. “Why didn’t you ever mention your job offer in Denver, Quinn?”
I freeze, mouth open, a bite of rice poised on my fork. I feel Tripp’s head whip in my direction, but I can’t bear to look at him.
I clear my throat and shrug, trying not to unravel as Sawyer’s brows shoot to her hairline and Pops leans back in his chair.
“I haven’t made a decision about it yet. Mom told you?”
Wes nods.
“You got a job offer?” Tripp’s voice is a hoarse rasp that makes my heart sink. “In Denver?”
I chance a glance in his direction and immediately know it was a mistake because I don’t want to see any of the things that are written all over his face. His smile is gone, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth, and he looks absolutely gutted.
“And you didn’t tell me?” His voice wavers, thin with hurt and betrayal.
It’s not about Denver.
I know that.
It’s about me keeping it from him when he’s been at my side every day and in my bed almost as often. It’s about him always being the one I go to when I need to talk things out but never saying a damn word about this.
“I hadn’t decided,” I murmur, trying to sound nonchalant even as heat creeps up my neck. “I’m still weighing my options.”
“How long?” Tripp presses, his voice a low rumble on the verge of a growl. “How long have you been sitting on this without telling me? Were you going to wait until you were a day away from leaving to say something?”
“I got the offer a few weeks ago,” I whisper, swallowing an apology that feels like knives in my esophagus.
He tosses his fork onto his plate, and it clatters—too loud in the silence that follows my announcement.
“Don’t you think that’s something you should’ve told me?”
Across the table, Wes stiffens. His eyes narrow. “Why the fuck would that be something she has to talk to you about?”
“Wes, don’t." My tone is a warning, but it only serves to confirm whatever suspicions he has.
"What the fuck?" Wes jumps up. “Tell me you aren’t sleeping with my sister.”
Tripp’s face is sullen. He folds his arms across his chest as he replies, “Well, there’s not a whole lot of sleeping happening.”
And then, all hell breaks loose.