Chapter 23
OUR FIRST SLEEPOVER
“It’s a good thing, trust me,” I tell my mom, who is eating blueberries out of the carton on the other side of the phone screen.
“I’m not so sure about that, Quinn,” Mom says.
I sink back into the pillows, tipping my head against the headboard.
Landry had a long bedtime with Sadie last night, having to read and reread Simpson’s Sheep Won’t Go to Sleep, so he didn’t make a minute of the call.
I’d hoped he could, because introducing the subject of my film as my new husband would have seemed more legitimate with him there.
I realized that about five minutes into the call, and something else, too.
“I am. I mean, had he been sitting there, he would have been so offended by Melvin.”
After Devin communicated that he was happy with the ten-minute sample I sent in a week ago, I shared the news about Landry and I getting hitched at the courthouse.
I was ready to sell them on our immediate and whirlwind love when Devin hit me with something I completely did not expect or prepare for, which is stupid in hindsight.
Of course I should have prepared myself for Devin thinking I married Landry just for the film.
That’s something Devin would do.
“Smart cookie. Marrying the old belt buckle for access. Smart. That’s the dedication you need to get ahead.”
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him that I’m not the type of person that would play with someone’s heart just for access to their life in order to make a better film. I wanted to tell him the accusation was ugly and unfounded, and more than that, I wanted to be offended.
But I couldn’t, because he’s not entirely wrong. Sure, I didn’t exactly marry Landry just for access to his life, but that was part of the deal.
“The thing that upset me the most was how Devin said I’d be able to expense the divorce.” I pull at the loose threads on the bedspread. “Isn’t that so… I don't know, annoying?”
Mom sighs, and there’s nothing more nerve-racking than your mother’s sigh. “How did you respond to the accusation?” I like that she used that word, because it does feel like an accusation.
“I told him that he’s wrong, because he is. I mean, he doesn’t know that he’s wrong, and in a way, he really is wrong because I married Landry to help him keep Sadie, not just for insights into his life. It just… happened to come with the deal.”
Mom closes the clamshell of berries and gives me one of those sad, you know what I’m gonna say but I’m gonna make you say it first smiles. “Quinn.”
The back of my neck is suddenly hot. “Hm?”
“You have to tell him that you want to stay, or you need to pull it all the way back. Fast.” She rolls her lips together contemplatively, the way she does at restaurants when she’s deciding if she wants the rich dish, or the more reasonable one.
“Have you consummated the marriage?” she asks, teasing but also quite serious.
I told my mom the night I lost my virginity. You can’t call your mom your best friend if you aren’t prepared to treat her that way. I nod. “Not all the way, but we’ve been intimate.”
“Oh, Quinn.”
I bring my hands to my temples and rub, feeling the telltale sting of tears behind my eyes. “I can’t pull back, because he’ll think something is wrong and it could affect his training. It could affect the court case.”
“Quinn,” Mom says, and that’s all she says.
I shake my head. “It’s going to be okay.
I can do this. We’re enjoying our time together, of course, but it’s no different than a fling or a summer romance, right?
Sadie will forget all about me as soon as her dad wins the rodeo.
There will be buckle bunnies coming out of the woodwork to claim him.
He’ll be fine.” I swallow against the burning, fiery, painful lump in my throat. “Everything will be great.”
There’s a gentle knock at the door, and I look up to find Landry gripping the doorframe. “Dinner’s ready.” He glances around my bedroom, at the black notebook with THE COMEBACK RIDER scrawled across, and at my open laptop with footage paused on the screen. “But if you’re busy—”
I shake my head and halt his words. “I’m starving.”
He smiles, and I feel it behind my ribs and between my legs. I smile, and then we’re just smiling at each other as birds chirp and rainbows form and—
“Okay, well, I’m going to go,” my mom says, making Landry wince.
“I didn’t know you were on the phone,” he says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ms. Farley, and, uh, yeah, Quinn, I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“And Petunia says we ought to just take her out there ourselves,” Sadie says, folding her arms over her chest as she sinks into the wooden chair at the table.
Landry’s mussed hair along with the streak of dirt along his cheek is making it hard for me to not jump him right here and now.
I had no idea that I liked such a physical working man, but after this, I know I can’t go back to dating guys in chinos and ties who get manicures.
Landry Vaughn has rewired all my desires, and I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied by anyone but him.
He wags a dirt-stained finger at her. “Now, don’t you take Snickerdoodle out there yourselves, Sadie Ruth. I told y’all before, if you want Doodle to see the wishing well, I’ll ride you guys out there when I get a free second. Okay?”
Sadie twists one of her curls around her finger. “Why can’t we do it ourselves? We aren’t babies, you know.”
Landry forks another bite of chicken and a bite of roasted potato.
He’s an excellent cook and I’d even wager he’s probably better than I am, and why is that hot, too?
“You are not a baby, I’m aware, but what would you two do if Snickerdoodle took off?
Hm? What if one of y’all fell down the well?
What would you do, Sadie Ruth? Throw a rope down?
” He levels his gaze to hers and strokes her hand.
“Honey, I’m tellin’ you it’s not a good idea because it’s not. ”
Sadie’s shining blue eyes cut to mine, looking for an ally in the cause. “She just wants to make a wish, is all.”
Landry’s brows arch as he chews his bite. I have to draw my thighs together beneath the table from watching his jaw torque as he chews. I think I’d orgasm watching the man shave, if he ever did.
Sadie shakes her head. “Snickerdoodle wants to wish for a husband because she’s lonely like you, Daddy.”
Landry looks at me, then at his daughter. “I’m not lonely.”
Sadie’s grin is wide. “Not anymore. But before you married Miss Quinn you were.”
“Sadie,” Landry starts, concern woven through his features. “We talked about this, me and Miss Quinn—”
There’s a knock at the back door, and I squint to spot Petunia and Alice Collier’s little faces pressed up against the screen. “Mr. Landry,” Alice calls, both girls in boots and nightgowns. “Can Sadie sleep over tonight? Mama says yes and to let her and Daddy be tonight.”
Landry twists in his chair, and I take in the sight of his muscular back in his filthy white T-shirt and I’ve never wanted to be ridden and impregnated as badly as I do now. “Hi, girls, come on in.” He looks at Sadie. “You wanna sleep over?”
She nods vehemently and abandons the rest of her vegetables, flying up the stairs to grab her Frozen suitcase.
Within five minutes, Sadie is gone, and Landry and I are standing on the steps of the back porch, watching the three of them traipse through the lawn toward the Colliers’.
Love opens the door, and we exchange waves, then it’s just us.
I don’t want to think tonight. Not at all. I only want to be here with him. Slowly, I walk my hands up his forearms, over his biceps, onto his shoulders, linking them behind his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his long hair.
“How about a shower and a rub of those sore muscles, cowboy?”
He stares down at me as we sway together beneath the twinkle lights. “I ought to rub your neck, with all the looking down at that laptop you do at night.”
I shake my head. “I know you’re hurting.
I know you’re sore.” I step onto the toes of his boots and tip my face up for a kiss.
His lips are soft, but the moans that fill my mouth are tender, malleable, and full of adoration.
I could eat up his moans all day and all night. I’d never need real food again.
His training has picked up the pace, and with the exhibition ride and pre-rodeo festivities in the next few days, he needs downtime.
He needs relaxation, and his body needs a break.
I see how hard he trains. How each time he’s bucked off Tate’s bronc, each time he gets up, he has to work harder to get back up, to try again, to keep fighting.
“Hm,” he hums, moving his lips to my cheek, then to the back of my ear.
He leaves rough but gentle kisses against my flesh, lighting up my insides.
“I shouldn’t get used to you takin’ care of me that way.
” Another kiss, this time along my throat, over my pulse, then another along my collarbone.
“But I’m a fool, because I can’t say no to you. ”
I reach down, cupping my hand over his cock as I walk him back into the house, his shoulders knocking the screen door open. “You really can’t,” I remind him playfully. “Remember? I get what I want. Free use of my favorite cowboy.”
He tosses his hat onto the table, knocking off a small pile of opened bills, all covered in scary red ink.
My stomach tightens at the sight, and at everything Landry has to worry about, and will still have to worry about when I leave.
“Use me then, baby,” he teases as I tug at the hem of his T-shirt, tucked into his Levi’s.