Chapter Forty-One
I lie here, staring at the ceiling long after Dixon’s taillights disappeared down the drive.
My lips still tingle faintly from his kiss, but not in a way that makes me want more.
Not in a way that makes my heart speed up or my skin catch fire.
It’s just … there. Like when your truck battery’s dead and the motor barely clicks when you turn the ignition.
The date was nice, but it definitely didn’t get my motor running.
The food was delicious. The movie was a sweet romantic comedy with witty dialogue and a happy ending that had most of the theater sighing.
It was exactly the kind of night sixteen-year-old Shelby Storm would have dreamed about—flowers upon arrival, a man opening doors, soft laughter shared over dessert.
But twenty-three-year-old Shelby?
She knows better.
When Dixon walked me to the door, I already felt the weight of what was coming. Not dread, just inevitability. He leaned in slow, giving me time to pull away if I wanted to. I didn’t. I needed to test the water. So, I let his lips brush mine.
And there was nothing.
No goose bumps.
No spark.
No sudden wanting.
It was just a kiss.
Sweet. Gentle. Chaste.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched my face, and something in him seemed to sink. He knew. Of course he did.
Dixon Fisher is many things, but he’s not stupid.
“I …” he started, then stopped.
“I had a really nice time,” I told him—because it was true. “You’re wonderful, Dixon.”
He nodded, the corner of his mouth tightening. “You don’t have to say it like you’re letting me down easy.”
Guilt coiled in my chest. “Hey, I do like you, Dixon Fisher. It’s just … you felt the same, right?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you can’t make something be there if it isn’t,” he said, accepting it.
We stood there awkwardly for a moment.
Then he gave me a quick, careful hug. “I’ll see you in December.”
When I closed the door behind me, all I felt was relief. No more wondering.
So, now, I’m lying in my bed, staring into the dark, trying not to replay the night. Trying not to compare Dixon’s gentle kiss to the way Waylon’s mouth devoured mine. The way his hands, mouth, and all of him consumed me.
I groan softly and roll onto my side.
Nope. Not doing that.
Maybe I really do just need to focus on the ranch and the rodeo academy. Next year is going to be brutal—long days, training schedules, competitions, responsibilities stacked on responsibilities. There won’t be time for men and their emotional wreckage.
That’s a good plan.
I’ll just … take a break from all of it.
Celibacy. Sure. Why not?
I huff a small laugh into my pillow. I’ve got my trusty little vibrator tucked away in my nightstand. It can handle the physical side of things just fine, and it won’t ever leave me hanging or step out with a Barbie doll.
Eventually, the tight knot in my chest loosens, and sleep starts to pull at me, slow and heavy.
I’m right on the edge of it when I hear my bedroom door creak.
Then the bed dips behind me.
“I figured you guys would be out much later,” I mumble into my pillow as a body settles in behind me.
A big, warm body.
Too big.
My eyes snap open.
Waylon’s voice slides into my ear, low and rough. “Hey, Stormy.”
Every nerve in my body lights up like a struck match.
I roll over so fast that I nearly fall onto the floor. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?”
He’s right there, so close that his scent surrounds me.
The light from the hall illuminates his face—his jaw shadowed with stubble, his eyes dark and intent.
“I needed to talk to you,” he says quietly.
I look around frantically.
“In the middle of the night? In my bedroom?” I hiss. “Did you break in?”
There’s no way Grandma or Daddy would have opened the door and just let him up to my room.
“No.”
“How did you get in, then?”
I hear a giggle from across the room, and I turn to see Harleigh’s face peering through the crack in my door. Charli’s silhouette is behind her.
“I might have had a little help sneaking up.”
I scoff. “Traitors!” I whisper-yell, tossing a pillow at the door.
His mouth twitches as Harleigh’s hand reaches inside and turns the lock on the door. Then pulls it shut.
I kick my legs, freeing them from the sheet, and hitch one over the edge of the bed.
“Whoa there, Stormy. I just want to talk.”
“You don’t break into someone’s house while they’re sleeping to talk.”
“You blocked me,” he says.
“Yeah, I did. That should have been your first clue that I wasn’t interested in talking.”
He sobers, gaze dropping to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. My chest tightens, old hurt flaring bright and hot.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it this time, Waylon.”
“I know.” He shifts, careful not to touch me. Like he’s afraid I might bolt. “I screwed up.”
“You stood me up,” I say, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. “You let me sit there like an idiot, waiting for you.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I don’t care what you meant,” I snap. “I care what you did.”
“I got some bad news that day. Really bad fucking news, and it rocked me. So hard that I forgot about everything. I know that isn’t a good excuse, but it’s the truth.”
I sit there, warring with myself. If I ask, I’ll be giving him an opportunity to change my mind. And legitimate reason or not, I’m not sure that’s something I want.
Not sure I want to put my heart at risk again.
“Go on,” I finally say. Good sense obviously gone.
“Pop hired a private investigator to find Ruby’s mother. He and Caison wanted her to sign papers to make my custody of Ruby legal. Plus, there were things I needed for school and insurance reasons. Her birth certificate, Social Security number, stuff like that.”
That makes sense.
“Did he find her?”
“He did.”
I sit there, bracing myself. Afraid he’s going to tell me she was the blonde outside the pizza parlor.
“Or he found her remains.”
“What?!”
“She passed away a few weeks before. The county was holding her ashes while they searched for next of kin.”
“Oh my God,” I murmur.
“Yeah, it was a shock. I mean, I had known she was in a bad way and living a dangerous lifestyle, but I didn’t expect that.”
“Of course not.”
“Anyway, I, um, had to tell Ruby that her mommy was gone and not coming back. Pop and Caison thought it was best not to wait, but to be honest with her. Which I did.”
My heart shatters as I picture that beautiful little girl. “Poor Ruby.”
“She didn’t handle it well. She was confused, and I was a total fucking shit show at explaining death and heaven and ashes and all that to a four-year-old. I probably scarred her for life.”
“I don’t think anyone would be able to explain that easily,” I assure him.
“Yeah, well, anyway, it was a long, rough night. And I didn’t have my phone on. So, I didn’t realize you were worried until the next day, when I got my bearings and talked to Caison.”
I sit and let his confession fill the space between us.
“What about the girl?”
“Cheyenne,” he says. “She’s Candy’s—ugh, Freya’s—sister. Pop’s guy found her living in Florida, and we got in touch. She flew up to meet Ruby and have Thanksgiving with us.”
“So, you and she aren’t—”
“We’re family. She’s Ruby’s aunt. The only link Ruby has to her mother. That’s all.”
Silence stretches, thick and heavy.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says finally. “Everything spiraled so quickly. Ruby was upset, my parents were freaking out, and I panicked. Cheyenne showed up.”
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together. “So, what? You just forgot about me in all the chaos?”
That isn’t fair. I wish I could take the words back as soon as they left my mouth.
“No.” His eyes burn into mine. “I didn’t stop thinking about you for a second. I’m just really bad at this daddy gig and juggling all that comes with it.”
“You’re not,” I whisper.
He swallows.
“I’m serious. I would have thought you’d be.
If someone had told me you were a single dad before you showed up in Wildhaven with Ruby, I’d have bet my money on you being horrible at it.
But I’ve seen how you love that little girl.
How you sacrifice for her. That’s all she needs.
That’s all any girl needs from her daddy. ”
“I sure hope you’re right,” he says.
“Take it from a girl who lost her own mother too young. I am.”
He reaches for me. Sliding his hand over my hip, gently tugging me closer to him.
“Can you forgive me? Again?” he asks.
Can I? Crap. I think I already have.
“Maybe,” I say as he brings his hand up to caress my cheek.
“And Dick? How did that go?”
“Horribly. I’m pretty sure I disappointed him.”
“He’ll get over it.”
I think about Dixon’s soft kiss. The emptiness. The way my body never once reacted the way it does now, with Waylon this close.
“Is it over?” he asks.
“Yeah, he’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?” he asks.
“What every girl wants. The fairy tale.”
“So, a knight slaying dragons and rescuing the princess kinda shit.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I wanna be the hero on the back of a white horse.”
“Well, congratulations, Princess. Mission fucking accomplished—because you saved me.”
His words hit the target, and I melt into him. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and his forehead comes to mine.
“You know I’ve never had a boy in my room before,” I say.
He shifts closer. “You don’t say. Should I leave?”
I should say yes.
But instead, I just stare at him, my heart beating too fast, my skin too aware of his heat.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “How quiet can you be?”
His free hand skates up my thigh, hesitating inches from the hem of the T-shirt I wore to bed.
“The question is, how quiet can you be?”