13. Knockin’ Boots
13
KNOCKIN’ BOOTS
DAKOTA
T he next morning, Alanna drags me to the Granite Falls farmers market because she heard there was a new booth tabling organic sheep’s milk beauty products called Fleece and Glow, and I agreed because if there’s one thing I love, it’s farmers markets.
“Here you go, Charlie,” I say to the Fredericksburg Peach table owner, handing him a ten-dollar bill. Charlie Rivera’s known me since I was in diapers, and he’s also been giving us free peaches for that long. “You dropped a peach.”
He gives me a wrinkly grin. “You keep it, lil’ miss. I know you’ve always had a sweet spot for my peaches.”
It sounds dirty, but it’s not. Charlie’s one of those oblivious eighty-year-olds with the best of intentions.
“Thanks, Charlie. I owe you one.” I bite into the juicy skin, the nectar tartness explodes on my taste buds while we peruse the farmer’s market tables.
There’s no other place on Earth where you can buy homemade almond butter dog treats and turmeric and black pepper bone broth. All while chatting with a war veteran named Harold, who tells you his life story about the lavender farm he named after the love of his life who died before he made it home—Lavender.
They don’t make cliches like that anywhere else.
Alanna adjusts her cleavage in her paisley sports bra. She’s been trying to convince me to order new workout clothes from her favorite online boutique, but I’ll never give up my cutoff denim shorts or my dad’s old rodeo T-shirts. They have about a million tiny holes, but you couldn’t even buy a softer shirt at a farmers market, and they’re one of my favorite places to shop.
“Did I tell you Wyatt offered to train me this summer?” I tell her as we stroll around the humming market, our arms looped.
I was tempted to take Patterson up on the offer, but he looks so exhausted all the time that I didn’t want to take any more time away from his little girl. He’s always doing everything for everyone else, and I don’t want to be like everyone else to him.
She arches her microbladed brows. “Oh, that sounds like a recipe for some delicious sexual tension. All that stretching and grunting? I’m getting hot and bothered just thinking about it.”
“Yeah, but you get turned on by the pressure of your shower head.”
She peals her musical laugh. Alanna even snorts beautifully. “If my water pressure isn’t hard enough to have an orgasm without touching myself, it’s not up to my standards.”
“Why do you think I love showering in your shower?” I say, only half joking.
I lead Luna-Tuna over to the Bark Bakery booth and let her sniff all the homemade dog treats. Her whole booty wags as she peruses the table. Everything’s organic and Sourced from Granite Falls Local Farm!
Small towns like ours don’t get fancy with establishment names. We just pop Granite Falls in front of the business: Granite Falls Auto Shop, Granite Falls Donuts, etc.
In a small town, you’ll never find yourself standing in front of a place called The Alchemist’s Brew, wondering if you’re about to step foot into a beer garden, coffee roaster, or an underground speakeasy with leather-apron bartenders serving dry-ice martinis.
We keep it simple.
I hold out a bag of maple butter dog treats for Luna to sniff. “You want this girl?”
Her dark tail wags.
“Okay, then you got it.” I pay for the outlandishly expensive organic treats because Luna-Tuna deserves them, and I love her.
We move on to the homemade bone broth booth, and Alanna picks up a jar of jiggly brown liquid, giving me the side-eye. “So, are you over this whole thing with Wyatt then? You gonna let him train you?”
Harboring this resentment is taking more emotional effort than I’d like. I never forget the people who do me dirty, but I also have no problem forgiving them if they genuinely apologize.
Ever since he said I’m sorry and told me he’d missed me, I’ve been feeling a lot less angry. A true heartfelt apology normally fixes most things with me, but I still don’t know how to act around him.
He’s just so much bigger now. I never noticed it before. Not until I was standing up against his chest with the warmth of his breath coasting across my cheek. I shiver at the memory.
Shrugging, I pick up a Sage & Beet bone broth jar, examine the bloody-looking lumps, and ultimately set it back down. “Maybe? Probably. It’ll make this summer a hell of a lot less awkward if I let this go. I feel like it’s not even worth my energy stayin’ mad when I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“Hah! Called it.” She slaps my ass. “I knew you couldn’t hold onto that grudge. You might be a badass bull rider, but inside, you’re also a big softie. You just don’t show that side to everyone, which is fine. It’s not like you have to show your true colors to every person on the planet.”
“Cheers to that.”
“So, how’s living with Wyatt been?” she asks. “Have you accidentally walked in on him naked yet? I, personally, am crossing my fingers for that since the barn only has one bathroom besides the outdoor shower. I would love that for you.”
That thought makes this July heat feel all the more scalding. “No, I can’t even imagine him naked.”
And yet, the visual pops into my head for the first time ever. All those soaking wet muscles, but then I remember the drunk teenage bed-peeing incident, and it ruins the visual.
“Dakota!”
I jump at the sound of my full name, so I already know who it is, and I secretly love that he still calls me by my full name. No one else does.
I glance across the market booths to see Wyatt beelining through the crowd with Vienna on his hip, juggling a grocery bag bursting with vegetables. It’s easy to spot him since he towers over almost everyone in his cowboy hat. Not to mention every woman nearby is smiling at the daddy-daughter duo.Including me.
He’s wearing a T-shirt that says Rodeo Daddy and Vienna’s in a miniature version that says Rodeo Princess. She’s also clutching the stuffed longhorn I bought her, and my smile twitches at the sight.
She really likes it.
“Oh my goodness, they’re matching .” Alanna smacks a hand to her chest. “That’s the cutest thing. Kodie, isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
“I’ve seen cuter,” I lie, biting my bottom lip to contain my smile. Their matching set is pretty adorable. I should buy a top for myself.
Wyatt stops in front of us, brushing the loose strands of hair back from his face. The buttery sunlight makes the strands look extra radiant, but his five-o’clock shadow is growing into more of a beard, like he hasn’t had enough time to himself to shave.
I hope he’s getting enough sleep. He needs to be taking care of himself.
Alanna shoves out a perfectly manicured hand, going right to introductions. “I’m Alanna, but my friends call me Lana. I’ve heard so many things about you, and fair warning, I’ve got high expectations for the hockey world’s golden boy.”
Wyatt chuckles, low and rough, and dips his hat. A few moms pushing strollers eye him with blatant interest, and I don’t blame them. He looks good, but their staring is starting to border on ogling. Come on, ladies. We’re at a farmers market, not a strip club.
“Well, howdy there,” he twangs out, ramping up his accent. “I better live up to all these expectations you’ve got for us Southern gentlemen.”
He lifts Lana’s hand to his lips to kiss the back of her palm like he’s greeting royalty. He’s never been a smirker, only a smiler, but I like a man who smirks. Arrogance can be kind of hot when it’s not overdone. There’s something about a slightly overconfident man that gets me every time.
“Oh, no need to impress me with your gentleman tendencies,” she says. “I prefer my men rugged and rowdy like Kodie.”
His teasing grin falters, but he manages to keep a polite smile in place. “Rugged and rowdy, huh? Well then, yes, ma’am.”
Alanna gasps, ripping her hand away. “Nope. No, no no. You are not calling me ma’am . That’s where I draw the line.”
“No can do. It’s ingrained in me.” Wyatt leans down to scratch the spot behind Luna’s ear she loves, and Vienna reaches down too. “You want to say ‘hi,’ baby? Hey, there, Tuna. Can you say Tuna? Tu-na?”
“No!” she squeals.
“Jesus, she’s adorable,” Lana says.
“She’s the cutest kid I’ve ever seen,” I blurt in agreement.
Wyatt snaps his head up at that, and a wide smile jumps to his lips. “You think my baby girl’s cute?”
I could lie, but what’s the point? We’ve both got eyes. “Yeah, she’s your kid, so of course she’s cute.”
He winks. “Are you saying I’m cute, Dakota Cutler?”
Something about that wink makes my stomach tighten, so I lift my shoulder. “You’ve got a mirror.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do, but I’d rather hear it from your lips,” he says.
He makes the word lips sound dirty, and I swallow, suddenly parched.Has his voice always been that deep?
Lana rolls her eyes. “Enough with the ma’am.”
Wyatt scratches Luna again, and her back leg starts jerking in that dog-orgasmic way that, frankly, feels somewhat inappropriate to watch.
“Patterson can’t help his manners,” I say, tugging Luna away from him. She’s obsessed with him, and waits, curled up in a black ball by his bedroom door until he comes out every morning, and I let her because he makes her happy.
“He calls everyone ma’am,” I continue. “Doesn’t matter if they’re one or a hundred. I’ve never met a door Patterson hasn’t held open either, and don’t get me started on sidewalks. He never lets a woman walk on the side closest to the street.”
Lana laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say more than one sentence about a man.”
I’m stumped for a second, and no comebacks come to mind. Like always.
Wyatt seems a little smug at that, and it’s throwing me off, so I clear my throat. All our history spills out with him since I’ve known him for so long. “I’m just speaking the truth. Isn’t that right, sugar?”
He frowns when I say sugar but seems to force a grin after.
“Sure is,” he says, pressing a series of three little smooch-kisses to Vienna’s cheek until she giggles. “Right, ma’am? We like our Southern manners. Yes, we do.”
Vienna laughs her high-pitched giggle-squeal, and I can’t help the smile that peeks through my lips. Wyatt’s an amazing father, and watching them, I’m reminded of me and my dad.
Colt Cutler doesn’t hug a lot of people, but I’ve seen old pictures of us curled up together on my canopy cowgirl bed with him reading me to sleep. I’ve caught Wyatt doing the same thing on our couch a couple of times, and I always drape a quilt over them.
There are some guys built to be girl dads, and Wyatt’s one of those sweethearts—like my grumpy father.
He gestures down to the brown bag with leafy vegetables poking out the top. “Will you be back for dinner tonight? I’m making tilapia tinga tacos. You’re still a pescatarian, right?”
I freeze. “You remembered?”
His lips turn down, and he looks a little hurt by my question. “Of course I remembered.”
“ And he cooks?” Alanna interjects. “And not just tacos. Tilapia tinga tacos. The men I’ve dated think ordering takeout is the equivalent of cooking.”
I roll my eyes before focusing on Wyatt’s eager expression. “No, I can’t. I’ve got a date tonight, so I’ll be back late.”
The conversation dries up.
Alanna suddenly finds her ombre French manicure enthralling.
“Oh.” He opens his mouth like he’s about to ask a question but shuts it just as fast. “Another time then. Guess I’ll… see you at the barn when you get back from your, uh, date.”
“Guess so,” I say, digging around my bag to give myself something to do. I can feel Wyatt’s stare on my cheek, and now I’m questioning this date.
I’m not all that excited, but the guy was pretty insistent at the bar last week, so I figured why not? I’m single. He’s single. I’m hot. He’s hot. I’ve got a 1971 Ford Bronco, and he’s got… a lifted F150 with custom airbrushed flames on the side.
Maybe we’ll take my Bronco, Daisy Blue .
And it’s been a while since I’ve had sex, so I deserve a good orgasm. I think the last time was before Wyatt came back into town, and the guy at the bar was nice enough. We had a lukewarm conversation, but I’m not looking to marry the man.
Plus, I’m a pro at shutting off my emotions during sex and remaining detached. I might not be particular about who I let into my bed, but I’m pretty damn particular about who I let into my heart.
I pull out a package of blueberries from my bag and hand them to Wyatt. “I got these for Vi, by the way. She always eats the blueberries I put on her highchair, so I figured she likes them. She’s a blueberry-eating fiend.”
He stares at the package before taking it, and when our hands brush, he rubs his calloused thumb on the back of my palm, sending sparks shooting up my arm. “Thanks. She loves blueberries, almost as much as she loves the longhorn you got her.”
“I’m glad she likes it,” I say, meaning every word. I’m determined to win over the little devil by the end of the summer.
There’s a pause, and they both look at me. Alanna jams her lips together. When I don’t add anything else, Wyatt picks up Vienna’s tiny hand and waves at us. “Say thank you to Dakota, baby.”
She shouts a garbled noise instead, nuzzling into his scruff, and butchers my name so it sounds more like Dee-Dee. I’m not even sure she’s saying my name, but I like her version better. Goodness, that’s cute, and a pang of yearning for motherhood hits me.
“Of course.” I wiggle my fingers at her, tugging on her baby boots. “Bye, little devil. I’ll see you later.”
Wyatt watches us with quirked lips. “You do realize that you smile at her more than you smile at me, right?”
“That’s because I like her more than I like you,” I tease.
He knows I’m joking so that only makes him grin wider. “I can tell. Well, I guess we’ll see you later. Have fun on your… date.”
With one last unreadable look at me, Wyatt picks up his bundle of groceries and strides through the crowded market. I watch him go until he rounds a corner into the parking lot.
There’s a weight off my chest now that he’s gone. I always feel like I’m being submerged in something all-consuming when he’s around, and it makes it hard to get in a good breath.
Alanna bumps my shoulder. “Do you really have a date tonight, or did you make that up?”
I quirk my brows, confused as to why she’s asking. “Yeah, of course I do. Why would I lie about that?”
“Because you’re breaking his heart without even trying. He’s like a sad little puppy dog around you, waiting for you to throw him a Milk-Bone.”
At the reminder, I give Luna an almond butter treat, making her shake for it. “Patterson’s always been that way. He’s a big sweetie. That's why we’re just friends.”
“Babe.” She gives me a really? look. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not a cute look.”
“I’m not playing dumb. I know what it looks like when a man wants me, and Patterson’s always looked at me like…” I think for a second, scratching Tuna. “Like he wants to squeeze me. Like how I’d love-squeeze my Toons.”
She scoffs. “Friends don’t look at each other like that. There’s no way that man is ‘just friends’ with you, unless ‘just friends’ means he looks at you like he’s imagining you naked then sure, you’re ‘just friends.’”
I toss my head to the cloudless sky and groan. Everyone has always made that assumption, and everyone is wrong. “Not you too. I mean, I thought maybe he had a crush on me when we were kids, but he had fifteen years to make a move, and honestly, it doesn’t even matter. Patterson’s the complete opposite of my type. We’re better off as friends.”
It’s like men and women can’t just be friends anymore, but I’ve always been a boys’ girl, so most of my friends are men. Until Alanna, I always got along better with boys.
I’ve never been considered the girly type, no matter how many dresses I wear, and I love dresses. Especially lacy ones. But for some reason, men see that I’m a bull rider, and assume I only communicate with grunts and drink beer.
Sure, I love a good beer on a hot day, but I also love sipping a crisp white wine while overlooking the bluebonnet fields and painting my nails in Flamingo Fizz . I’m slapped around so much on bulls that all I want is to be treated like a lady for once.
Alanna puts a hand over her forehead, shading her hazel eyes as she squints at me.
“Why’re you squinting at me like that?” I ask.
“I’m trying to see if you’ve got cataracts, because I think you might be going blind if you can’t see how he looks at you, and I’m concerned for your well-being.”
“Oh, please. I’m not going blind. I know I make him flustered, but all women do, and I’ve never been attracted to him, so that’s that.”
“You need to go to the eye doctor.”
“No, I don’t. Trust me, I know how Patterson looks at me.”
“And trust me ,” Alanna says, looping her arm through mine. “You’re going to be knockin’ boots by the time this summer’s over.”