Chapter 32 Thirty-One
Thirty-One
Quinn
“With just fifteen minutes to go until the show really gets going, how about we start with some mutton bustin’?
” Wyatt’s voice blared through the speakers, still calm and collected even though he was riding on Rusty.
When he told me he was going to switch it up, ride and announce at the same time, to—and I quote—‘Show you just how amazing of a rider I am,’ I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him.
I knew he was a good rider. I’ve seen him ride in the arena—granted, it was the worst tie down I had ever seen— and I’ve seen him riding on the field working.
I’ve seen him riding with a fancy wedding suit on and with a baby being held to his chest. But apparently, according to him, I hadn’t seen a good show until he had a microphone in his hand.
And I wouldn’t admit it to him, but he was right.
He was dressed to fit the part. His Wranglers fit him just right, the blue button-down stretched against his biceps, and his blond hair stuck out from under his Boot Barn hat.
He had his script in one hand, along with the reins, and the microphone in the other.
His baby blues could be seen even under the shadow of his hat, and his smile gleamed.
I had heard his voice several times over the speakers—I had heard the way he could rile up a crowd—but I never watched him.
He was in his element, and anyone could see the exuberance flying from him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“And we’re starting with six-year-old Tersea Kuster—”
The chute opened, and the sheep busted through, the little girl holding on for dear life until she fell off, landing face-first in the dirt. The crowd gave a collective groan, but Wyatt moved on, announcing her score and hyping up her ride before introducing the next rider.
After all the kids had their moment, Wyatt led Rusty off the arena, and the high school riders went in with the flags. I began to weave through the crowd, wanting to get as close to Wyatt as I could. I may have plenty of time to prepare for my event, but I was missing something.
And according to Abi, that was an important something.
“And bringing us our National Anthem”—he came into view, and I felt that spark in my stomach.
That one I was trying to ignore for so long, and now that he had been mine for almost a month…
I was trying to figure out how I ever ignored it—“Kendell York from Alpine Ridge High. Please stand and face the flag—”
“Wyatt!” I whisper hissed, coming up to the side of Rusty.
Wyatt turned, welcoming me with his perfect smile.
He had an earpiece in his right ear, the wire trailing down his back to the battery pack that was hooked to Rusty’s saddle.
Twisting his neck at an angle, he took it out with the hand that was holding the microphone and lowered them both to the horn.
I watched as the red light on the mic turned black.
“Get out there and respect the anthem,” he whispered back, leaning down close to me, his tease sending chills down my spine.
“Abi says Cash gets a kiss for luck. I’m pretty sure he’s out there kissing your sister right now—”
“He'd better not be late. He’s up first.” He cocked a grin.
“—and Rhett always kisses Kyla after, right? So…when are we going to kiss?”
He raised a brow. “Well, seeing as we are both busy at the moment, you know, I got this microphone and a sponsor list, and you have to go get Hook ready, I don’t think we’ll be able to carry Rhett’s tradition…
or Cash’s. But we could start our own.” He cocked a grin and motioned to his stirrup, sliding his boot from it, giving me the leg up I needed.
Repeating the move he did to me just weeks ago, I used the stirrup to hoist myself up, my lips meeting his instantly.
I reached for the horn of the saddle, using it to keep me upright as we slowly kissed.
His fingers weren’t in my hair, his hands weren’t roaming my body.
I wasn’t humming or moaning into him. I was holding on to the saddle, praying I didn’t slip—but this kiss was the kiss.
That same spark flew from my stomach, reaching every inch of me.
My body heated just from his lips, his taste…
just him. I wouldn’t have guessed seven months ago that this man—who I once said was more starch than man—would be sending this thrill through me.
It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like so much longer.
I would never have guessed that Wyatt Hartwell held my heart. My whole heart.
“Wyatt,” I whispered against him. It was on the tip of my tongue…I lo—
“The anthem is over…” he whispered back. “I’ll see you on the dirt.”
I gave him one last chaste kiss before lowering myself down, removing my boot from his stirrup. Taking a few steps back, I could feel the pull tugging me to him.
“Meet me after? For the fireworks?” he asked, moving Rusty’s nose to the gates.
I nodded, watching Rusty jerk his nose back, the microphone dropping into the saddle. I held back a chuckle and resisted the urge to flash him finger guns. “Sure, if you don’t fall off. Maybe stick to announcing in the box?”
Wyatt gasped, dropping his jaw. “Prepare to be amazed at my skill.” He curved his lips, shoving his earpiece back in his ear, and flicking the mic back on, all with the same hand, his other never loosening on Rusty’s lead.
Rolling my eyes, I slunk away from him, keeping my eyes on him until he gave me a wink.
Cash scored an eighty-seven, then joined Abi and Stetson in the stands.
Rhett clocked one of his best times with a seven-point-one, kissed Kyla over the gate like always, then took Poppy in his arms and wove in and out of the cowboys and cowgirls.
And Wyatt let out the loudest cheer when I finished my ride, disappearing from the arena.
Even if he didn’t have a microphone in his hand, anyone would have been able to hear him scream, “That’s my girl.
” And I guarantee that even though the sun had set and the sky was ready for the fireworks, anyone would have been able to see the heat in my cheeks.
I watched the rest of the event with the other barrel racers, but while my peers were watching the bull riders, my eyes were trained on Wyatt.
He was still on Rusty, and even though they were behind the gate, they stood close enough that Wyatt could see the action and tell off all the scores as the judges sent them his way.
His face had a light sheen of sweat, the sleeves on his button-down had been rolled up several times to expose his toned forearms, and his hair on the nape of his neck was damp—but even through the miserable heat—Wyatt looked happier than I had ever seen him before.
He didn’t drop a beat the entire night, not missing a single outcome or score. He said the Cowboy Prayer with love and announced every single sponsor like they were a dear friend. Wyatt certainly knew how to gain the attention of the entire crowd and keep everyone on their toes.
And it was my turn to be captivated by him.
He had told me plenty of times that he was amazed watching me, that he was—in his words—in awe.
The things he had said to me over the last few months stuck with me more than anything, so much so that they began to play on repeat in my head before a ride.
But now…it was finally my turn to see Wyatt the way he saw me.
Wyatt was so much more than I ever imagined. More than I gave him credit for. Wyatt was…
Perfect.
“It’s been a wonderful night here at the Hartwell Arena, we’ve seen amazing rides from America and Canada’s greatest cowboys and cowgirls.
This little rodeo of ours has grown so much, and we can’t wait to keep building it up.
It was such an honor being your broadcaster tonight, back in the saddle—doing the one thing I love almost as much as the woman who has claimed me as hers.
I’m Wyatt Hartwell, and Alpine Ridge, if you turn your eyes to the south sky…
you’ll see the best firework show this side of Boise. ”
The first firework shot up in the sky, the screeching causing everyone to turn their heads, gasps and cheers following, and then the lights dimmed in the arena. Fireworks shot through the air, one after another, the pops and booms echoing—and while those held everyone’s attention, I ran to him.
When I rounded the corner, he was already standing at Rusty’s side, taking his hat off to rub his forehead with his arm. He inhaled and raised his chin to the sky, the look of pure happiness radiating off him. He was tired, he was most likely sore—but he was back.
“Hartwell!” I shouted, gaining his attention instantly.
I jumped and landed right where I was supposed to be. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands on the nape of his neck, feeling his hands finally on my waist, holding me steady.
“Damn, Compton.” He chuckled. “You almost just took me out.”
I kissed him, loving the way he had to catch his balance again as he shifted to hold me tighter against him, his mouth moving in perfect sync with mine.
“You’re spectacular, did you know that?” I arched my back away from him softly.
“Spectacular?” He parroted. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”
“You always say I’m the amazing one—”
“Well, you are.”
“But you—” I kissed him again, soft and sweet, a chaste kiss that only left me wanting more. “I wish I had seen it sooner. We could have been this sooner.”
He cocked a grin. “I tried. You’re the one who hated everything I tossed your way.”
“I take it all back. You’re the opposite of everything I said.”
“I don’t remember half of it—”
“I do.” I shifted to trace his jaw, feeling the stubble that had grown since he last shaved. “None of it is true. I just wanted to believe it was. I was such an idiot for not seeing you.”
“Hey.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t call my girl an idiot. I promise you, Quinn,”—he met my gaze—“this is going to last a long time. I told you, I’m a fool for you. I’m a goner. I’m in—” He paused. “I’m in too deep.”
Me too. My stomach did a jumping jack, small flutters filtering all the way to my fingers. “I don’t want to say it yet—” I whispered.
“You can say anything.”
I blinked a few times, feeling my heart beating in my chest. I wanted to. I could scream it from the rooftops—let the entire world know that I was in love with Wyatt Hartwell. But all I managed to say was—
“I feel so much more with you, and I want it all.”
Maybe that is exactly what I was supposed to say.
Maybe those words were stronger than those three tiny ones that everyone wants to hear at some point in their life, because the moment the words left my lips—the moment they hung in the air—Wyatt’s blue eyes got heavy, his breath picked up, and with a soft fuuuck, his mouth was on mine.
Not breaking the kiss, he moved, taking us away from the crowd that was still engulfed in the fireworks that were booming overhead.
A few grunts and moos from the livestock came from nearby, but I was too focused on Wyatt’s breathing and moans to pay any attention to where we were going.
All that mattered was that I could keep kissing him.
I honestly didn’t care who saw—that way, everyone would know he was mine.
My back gently hit a wall, my hat flopping to the ground, all while Wyatt drank me in.
He shifted, one hand still firm on my ass, the other slinking up my waist, finally cupping my chin.
His lips broke free from mine, and I gasped for air as he kissed my neck and down to my shoulder.
This man knew exactly where to kiss to ignite my senses, and we hadn’t even had sex yet.
In the few times we had touched and teased, he asked me what I liked, how I wanted to be touched—and tonight—fully clothed up against a building behind the Hartwell Arena, he was putting all those questions to practice.
My body shivered as his hand trailed my collarbone, cupped my breast, his fingers grazing my side—it wasn’t enough, yet it was almost too much.
“Please tell me you’re coming over tonight?” I begged, my hands grasping at his collar.
“Why wait,” he whispered in my ear, “when we can play now?”
“Now?” I gasped, locking my gaze with his.
“Just a tease.” His smile was so wide, I could feel it against my skin. He nibbled on my ear. “Tell me I can, Quinn. Please tell me I can touch you.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Please.”
He kissed me again, his tongue not wasting any time dancing with mine.
His free hand worked on my belt buckle, and he pulled on the button and slid it to the most sensitive part of me.
I gasped the moment his warm fingers found my center, my head falling back on the wall.
His fingers began to move in slow, lazy circles as his lips found and kissed my favorite spot right below my ear, driving me more insane than his fingers.
I withered against him wanting so. Much. More.
“The only reason why I’m spectacular, Quinn,” his voice was hauntingly low against my skin, giving my earlobe a little nip, “is because I’m wanted and loved by you.”
Fireworks built inside me as the real ones boomed outside, the grand finale happening in me mere seconds before it was lit into the sky.