Chapter 29
Willow
Six Months Later
Warm August air kisses my skin. Male cicadas sing their summer song, calling their mates. They fly around in groups, their prominent eyes set wide apart, transparent wings, and stout bodies flittering across the fields.
The louder they get, the antsier I become.
It's been fourteen days, six hours, forty-three minutes, and some odd seconds since Wyatt and I were in the same state, let alone the same bed.
Between his rodeos and my team traveling for competitions, we've been two shooting stars going opposite directions in the same sky.
My heart aches. We've survived six months of this crazy routine. His winning streak has been unreal. Headline after headline, buckle after buckle, he's on the longest streak any rider's ever had. And I couldn't be prouder of him.
Every time I tell Wyatt how amazing he's doing, he tells me that the best part doesn't involve victory. He claims it's knowing that every time he wins, he can come home to me.
I always tell him that if he loses, he's still to come home.
He'll put his fingers over my lips and remind me, "We don't say that word," which always makes me laugh.
The deep rumble of a diesel truck hits my ears, growing louder. The Butterfly House is far from the main gate, but I scan the dark drive, looking for the cloud of dust that I know is coming.
My heart does a two-step when his truck slice through the trees. I press a hand against my belly, trying to calm the nervous fluttering, but it's useless. The second I see the familiar silhouette of his truck, every bit of resolve I've built up to stay cool shatters.
I dart down the porch steps and run toward the truck. The gravel crunches, his tires spitting up pebbles. I get past the summer garden, and the truck stops hard enough to jolt.
The door flies open, and Wyatt jumps out. He runs toward me, boots heavy, hat casting dark shadows over eyes that burn like wildfire. He growls, "Sugar!"
I leap into his arms, and he lifts me off the ground, spinning me. Unable to contain my excitement, a squeal escapes my mouth. I wrap my legs around his waist.
He chuckles. One large palm cups my ass, and the other splays across my back.
I grip his broad shoulders, and our mouths connect, our lips and tongues pressing together. I kiss him deeply until I'm out of breath.
He mumbles against my lips, "Goddamn, sugar. Two weeks. I thought I was gonna lose my mind."
"I know. I missed you terribly," I tell him, my arms locking tighter around his neck. The heat of his body merges with mine, and the chaos inside me calms.
He kisses me again, then retreats. "I should park the truck properly and turn the lights off."
I laugh, realizing we're in the middle of the dirt trail that leads to the driveway. I release my legs and find my footing.
He leads me to the truck and opens the passenger door. "Hop in, sugar."
I obey.
He gets into the driver's seat and then accelerates down the path, stopping in front of the guesthouse that has been our home for the last seven months.
We get out, and he sweeps me off my feet.
I giggle, holding on to his shoulders, and kiss him some more.
He carries me up the steps, each press of his mouth more feral than the last. He slams the front door with his boot, then sets me on the counter.
He puts his hands next to my hips and leans in an inch from my face.
A wicked glint flicks in his eyes. "You smell like summer and sin. Damn, I missed you!"
I inhale his intoxicating scent, running my hand through his hair. "I'm the one who missed you."
"Then what are you going to do about it?" he challenges, his grin matching his gaze.
Giddy, I bat my eyes, teasing, "Why, Wyatt Houston. Do you have naughty thoughts on your mind?"
He licks his lips, glancing at the low-cut neckline of my sundress. He declares, "I'm not letting you out of my sight tonight. You hear me?"
"Loud and clear, cowboy," I say, biting my lip.
He tosses his hat on the table. It lands with a thud. His mouth claims mine again, hands rough, hot, and greedy as they slide under my dress.
I arch into him, aching for everything we couldn't do while we were apart.
He slides a finger past my panties and groans. "You're already wet. Jesus, sugar. How long have you been melting like this?"
"Since you jumped out of that truck," I admit, then return to kissing him.
He breaks the kiss only long enough to mumble, "Those two weeks felt like two lifetimes."
My fingers dive into his hair, pulling him back to me. "Same. It was torture."
"Let's stay naked the next few days," he suggests.
I laugh. "I'm game."
"Good. Let's start now." He shoves a finger inside me.
I gasp.
A knock rattles the door, cutting through the haze. We both freeze, breathing heavy. We look toward the door.
"Don't answer it," I whisper.
Another sharp knock echoes around us.
Wyatt doesn't move except to say, "We need to be farther away from the main house."
"Y'all better have clothes on!" Jagger booms from outside.
Wyatt groans, pressing his forehead against my collarbone. "That brother of yours has the worst timing."
I remind him, "He's your bestie."
He grunts but removes his hand from under my dress.
"Noooo," I whine.
He sucks on his finger with a groan, then shouts, "Keep your pants on for a hot minute, Jagger." Lowering his voice, he says to me, "Save that fire for me. Let me see what he wants and then I'll get rid of him."
"Please," I beg.
"On it, sugar," he says, then opens the door.
Jagger pushes inside past Wyatt, wearing his usual shit-eating grin. "Well, well. You two look cozy."
I roll my eyes with a smile. "Get to the point, Jagger."
His eyes dance. "Heard your team won today. Figured you'd want to know Wyatt took the purse at the rodeo too."
My chest swells with pride. "Yes, I know, Einstein."
Wyatt shrugs with infuriating nonchalance, but his grin betrays him. "Rode that bull like the devil was on my tail."
"Damn straight you did," Jagger boasts.
I jump off the counter and step next to Wyatt. "I bet you did! I'm so proud of you!"
Jagger clears his throat dramatically. "Well, if you're done making moon eyes, Mom wants you to head over for dinner tomorrow. Sebastian and Georgia are coming in town for the week."
Wyatt slings an arm around my waist, tugging me close. "We'll be there."
Jagger's eyes narrow on Wyatt. "Better be. And keep your hands to yourself. There will be children present."
"I won't make promises I can't keep," Wyatt shoots back with a smirk.
Jagger mutters something under his breath as he walks off. The second the door shuts, Wyatt picks me up again. "Where were we?"
"Think we were about here," I tease, tugging him down for another hungry kiss.
The hours blur after that. Clothes become casualties of war, littering the floor.
The bed springs creak under the rhythm of our bodies coming together.
His name becomes a mantra on my lips. When he finally collapses beside me, both of us slick with sweat, the silence is thick with more than just exhaustion.
Our love has grown roots, deep and lasting.
Wyatt's hand strokes lazy circles on my stomach. "I've been thinking."
"That's dangerous," I tease.
He chuckles, but it fades quickly. His eyes meet mine, dark and serious. "I've been winning big. I put most of it in savings, like I promised. I have more than enough now to buy that land I told you about."
My breath catches. "You're serious?"
He nods. "Yes. And I know what I want to do with it."
"Build the house you keep sketching out?"
He pauses.
Nerves fill my belly. "What is it?" I sit up.
He sits up too, announcing, "I want to start a bull riding school."
I gape at him, then ask, "You don't want to ride anymore?"
Something flickers over his expression, but I can't pinpoint it. He declares, "I still like it, but I don't think I love it anymore."
I'm shocked at his admission. "Really?"
He tugs me onto his lap. "I don't like being away from you."
My heart skips a handful of beats. I coo, "Aw. I don't like being away from you either."
He cautiously says, "I can't stay on the circuit forever. We both know that."
"You have a few more years in you at least," I assert.
He shrugs. "I don't know. I think it'd be awesome to go out on top, and right now, that's where I'm at."
"I can't disagree with you. But won't you miss it?"
"Sure. But I'd rather be here with you. I can teach kids, keep them safe, and give them the tools I never had. We can make a real life."
Warmth floods me, spreading from my chest outward. I caress the side of his head. "We don't already have a real life?"
He stares at me intensely, and my butterflies kick up again. "What?" I ask.
"You're always going to have to travel some with your career," he asserts.
"True. But it's not too horrible. And I'm not looking for a new career, Wyatt."
He chuckles. "Simmer down, sugar. I'm stating a fact."
"Okay," I agree, not sure where he's going with this.
He says, "Someone has to be home with the babies. So if I have a school, I can be here while you're on the road."
"Babies! Who's pregnant?" I blurt out.
He grins. "No one yet. But once I make you my wife, I fully plan on knocking you up as much as possible."
I gape at him, my heart pounding wildly.
"Now, don't act like you don't want kids. I know you do. Besides, you'd be a great mom," he claims.
"Ummm…thanks."
"Did I just freak you out?" he asks, his lips twitching.
I shake my head and release a breath. "No. This is just a super-serious conversation."
He nods, his expression serious. "Yes. But it's best we talk about this, right?"
"Yes," I agree.
He kisses me. "Okay. So do you think I should put an offer on that land?"
I blink hard against a flood of happy tears.
"I didn't mean to make you cry, sugar," he says, holding me closer.
I sniffle. "You're not. I'm just happy."
"Me too," he murmurs in my ear.
I lift my face to his, trying not to smile. "So…"
"So?" He arches his eyebrows.
The butterflies in my stomach have a full-on war. I tease, "When are you making me an honest woman?"
He chuckles. "You'll know when you know."
I bite my smile.
He kisses my forehead, admitting, "I need you to help me with the paperwork for the school. Permits. Taxes. All that shit I don't understand."
I laugh. "Of course I'll help."
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he declares.
"You're the best thing that's happened to me too," I reply.
We make love until we're breathless, then we do it all over again. The next morning, the sun filters through the gauzy curtains. Wyatt's sprawled across the bed with an arm draped possessively over my waist.
I trace the scar on his shoulder, remembering how it tells a story of a bull he conquered and the mistake he survived.
He stirs, pulling me closer. "You keep touching me like that, sugar, I'm never going to let you get out of this bed."
"Wyatt?"
He turns and pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
"Were you serious last night? About the school and giving up riding?" I ask.
His expression turns solemn. "Never been more serious about anything."
"You'll be an amazing instructor," I offer.
He grins. "Thanks."
I add, "But you'll be an even more amazing father one day."
A smile explodes on his lips, and he cages his body over me.
I squeal.
He pushes my thigh toward my chest, slides inside me, and declares, "That's the plan, sugar. So let's practice making those babies."