Homebound

14. The Bet

14

THE BET

WYATT

“ P lease, baby?” I moan, rocking Vienna in the rustic living room. “I know you’re tired. Daddy’s tired too. I need to put this bed together for you, and then we can sleep.”

Her wail drills into my already thumping headache. She’s been crying all evening since I got back from the farmers market, and nothing I do can get her to stop. This is one of those moments where I wish I had someone to complain about how tired I am, and then we would cackle-laugh together because we’re delirious from exhaustion.

But no. It’s just me.

I sniff her diaper.

Clean.

When she’s this fussy, the only thing that usually calms her down is being in my arms, which is exhausting—having her attached to me all the time. I can’t even go to the bathroom alone. I miss the days where I could sit on the toilet for an hour, scrolling through random shit on my phone.

I pull her close, dropping my voice to a soothing hum. “I know you’re tired, baby, and I know your teeth hurt, but I’m trying my best here.”

But my best never feels like enough. Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m enough.

She screams.

I wince.

Her cries are the tired kind, the ones that come when there’s nothing left but exhaustion. I’ve been running on fumes since I left the market this afternoon, going through store after store with my parents, hunting for the perfect convertible crib.

Vi’s turning into a little climber, trying to pull herself up, so I need a sturdier one. The pieces of her new crib lay scattered around the barn’s living room because I don’t have enough arms to hold her and assemble it. I glance at the closed bedroom door and release a long breath. Maybe we can do one more night in the old crib.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” I pace the living room, swaying her, when the front door suddenly bursts open.

Dakota stumbles inside, and she’s not alone.

Right.

I forgot.

Her date.

There’s a man clinging to her waist, so with a tight jaw, I yank my gaze away. We’re going to have to lay down some ground rules for the summer because there’s no goddamn way I can stomach watching this over and over again when I can’t even remember what it feels like to have sex.

The last time I was inside a woman was Vienna’s mom, and as grateful as I am to have my daughter, I try not to think about that night too often. Mostly because it makes me feel like a jackass since I was imagining it was Dakota the entire time.

The new guy groans. “Kodie Cutler, you’re driving me wild. Where’s your room?”

Vienna’s high-pitched cry slices through the barn, drawing their attention, and for once, I’m grateful for her shrill scream. “That’s my girl. Nice timing, baby,” I coo in her ear.

“Shit. Thought we were alone. Who's this?” the guy asks, scanning my sweats. “You got a kid, Kodie?”

Dakota’s panting, chest heaving, and every curve of hers is on display—for him. She’s wearing one of her lacy blue dresses that she only wears when she goes out. Fuck. I love it when she wears dresses because it always makes me imagine sliding my hand up her thigh.

She’s got on makeup too, which means she tried for this guy in a way she never did for me. She looks beautiful, but she always looks beautiful.

“No, she’s not my kid, but she’s mine for the summer,” she says.

Dakota’s reply is quick, her gaze meeting mine, and there’s a flicker of... what? Possessiveness, maybe? It’s right there in her eyes, and it warms me more than I expect—her claiming my little girl.

“This is my roommate and his daughter, Vienna,” she explains. “Isn’t she a cutie-pie?”

The man huffs. “Yeah, a loud one. Nothing like a crying kid to kill the mood.”

Dakota shoots him her infamous Cutler glare, and suddenly, the air shifts. She points to the red front door.

“Leave,” she demands.

His mouth gapes.

So does mine.

“What?” he blurts.

“You need your ears checked? Maybe a cotton swab?” She nods to the door, sounding anything but sweet even though she looks like her dress is made of blue cotton candy. “Leave. Now. You can go.”

The guy’s frown deepens. “Seriously? I came all the way over here.”

Dakota props a hand on her hip. “Oh, you mean you drove me five miles down the road from The General? Thanks. You’re definitely owed sex for that act of chivalry.”

I turn my laugh into a cough. They both glance in my direction, so I cough again to sell the whole act. I’m not sure what Dakota’s motive is for kicking him out, but she’s been doing what she wants when she wants since the day she was born.

“Fine,” the guy scoffs, tossing up his keys. “I’ll go. You’re really living up to that Cowboy Killer reputation, girl.”

“Good,” she retorts.

He stalks out of the barn, slamming the door on his way out, hard enough to rattle the cedar walls. That sets my baby girl off.

“You didn’t have to send him home because of me!” I yell, raising my voice over Vi’s screams.

“Yeah, I did!” she shouts back. “He was being a dick to you, and frankly, the date was terrible. He smelled like dildo!”

Dildo?

“What?!” It’s impossible to have a conversation with my girl screaming.

“Dil-do!” she repeats.

“Why would he smell like a dildo?” I yell, bouncing Vi in my arms. Her face is a scrunched-up tomato for all the crying.

“MILDEW!” she clarifies. “He smelled like mildew !”

“Ah, got it. Sorry, she’s loud, but it’s nice to know you aren’t sniffing dildos in your spare time.”

She side-eyes me. “That you know of.”

Vi lets out another wail, and Dakota gestures to her with wiggly fingers. “Here. You look like you could use some help. Give me the little devil. I’ll hold her while you build the crib.” She opens her arms, ready to take my tiny bundle of chaos.

I clutch my girl tighter to my chest. “Thanks for the offer, but she’s in a mood tonight. Doesn’t want anyone but her daddy holding her.”

Dakota rolls her lips between her teeth, contemplating something. After a moment, she picks up one of the pieces of the crib, tossing it in her hand. “Then how about you hold her while I build the crib?”

I stiffen, surprised that she’s even offering, but then a pang of guilt shoots through me for having the thought. She’s a pescatarian bull rider who avoids stepping on bugs, so her generosity always runs deep.

Hell, she’s the one who convinced my parents to make the farm a bird sanctuary for their agriculture exemption, and now they’ve saved a few endangered species, thanks to her. Not that she ever sees the good parts of herself. She only focuses on the bad things.

“You’ll really help me build the crib?” I ask.

The honey in her eyes seems to warm as her gaze lingers on Vi, a thoughtful tilt to her head. Her focus drifts from my hands wrapped around my girl’s tiny body to the shadows I know are under my eyes, and the lines of her face seem to soften.

“Yeah. You look like you could use a break, and I want to help.”

She’s right. I’m exhausted, but I don’t want her pity. What I want is for her to want me, like a woman wants a man, but I doubt she will when I smell like a mix of baby powder and wet wipes.

“I'm a single parent. I’m always tired,” I attempt to joke.

Her lips curve into a half-grin, amusement playing across her face. It’s not nearly close enough to the smile I want to see. “Then let me help you build a crib. Now, where are those instructions?”

I nod to a pamphlet on the living room floor, and she gets to work. While she pieces together the crib, she doesn’t talk to me, but we’ve always been comfortable in each other’s silence, and I don’t have the energy to force a conversation with Vienna wailing, so I watch her work, gratitude thrumming through me like a heartbeat until my girl starts to calm.

My eyelids droop, but I fight to stay awake so I can watch Dakota. The way her dark-brown hair brushes her forearms as she moves. How her tongue pokes out when she tries to drill a piece into the crib. Vi’s eyes close, and mine start to flutter.

Drifting. Dreaming, imagining my girl giggling in my woman’s arms.

Someone shakes me. “Patterson.”

“Hm.”

“Patterson.”

My eyes fly open. “What?” I ask in a voice garbled with sleep. “What happened?”

Dakota’s hunched over in front of me, shaking my shoulder, but she drops her hand when she sees I’m awake.

She’s so close I can see the faint scar on her forehead from when she banged her head from one brutal bull ride, and I sat with her for hours in the hospital waiting room. That’d been torture for me. On instinct, I reach out to stroke it, needing to feel her warmth beneath my touch. Her lips part for a moment.

“You fell asleep,” she says, backing away from my touch.

I rub my eyes with both hands. Wait. Two hands? I stare down at my hands, and that’s when I realize Vienna’s not in my arms.

I whip my head around the barn, searching for her. “Where’s Vi?”

“Don’t worry. She’s snoozin’ in her new bed. I set it up in your bedroom with the baby monitor and even hooked it up to your phone. Your password is still my birthday? Why? You really need to change that. I didn’t go through any of your sexy messages though, don’t worry.”

“That’d be hard to do, considering I don’t have any sexy messages,” I blurt out, embarrassed she caught the birthday thing. I always say the stupidest shit around this woman.

She arcs a brow. “You sound like you want to have sexy messages.”

“Oh, uh, no,” I stammer. “It’s fine. That’s what porn’s for.”

Fuck me.

I wish I could take those words back, but they’re out there now.

“ That’s what porn’s for ?” she repeats like I admitted to being a world-renowned serial killer.

I clear my throat. Then, I clear it again for no good reason. “No, obviously, I don’t watch porn. I mean, I have watched porn, but a below-average amount for a man… It’s like a treat.”

Christ, Patterson. It’s like a treat?

I blame the lack of sleep for that one.

“So, you’re a porn-for-dessert kind of man then, huh?” She stifles a laugh.

I stifle a groan. “Occasionally.”

She lifts her fist to her mouth, biting her knuckles as she tries to contain her throaty chuckles. “Patterson?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to erase this moment from my memory. “What?”

She cocks her head, lips lifting so one dimple flickers in a tease, and that right there makes the embarrassment worth it. “Want me to leave you some sexy messages so you can cut back on the porn treats?” Another flush of heat rushes to my face at the idea, and Dakota chuckles, raspy, rich… sexy. “Goodness, look at your face. I’m only teasing you. No need to get all flustered, summer boy.”

That only makes the fire prickle higher, and now I’m grateful I haven’t shaved because at least my scruff provides some needed coverage.

“It’s just hot in here,” I mutter lamely. “Can we stop talking about porn? All it does is remind me that I haven’t had sex since Vi’s mom, so I’d probably screw a horse at this point.”

As soon as those words are out, we both cringe.Great. It just keeps getting worse.

“You’d…” Her lips are caught somewhere between a grimace and a full-blown chortle. “ What? ”

Blood boils in my face. “No, that’s not…” I mutter a curse, gi ving my head another hard jerk. I need to pull my shit together. “That’s not what I meant. Obviously, I’m not into animals.”

“Obviously,” she laughs.

“ Obviously, ” I nearly growl.

She jerks back, seeming a little caught off guard by my low tone. “Sorry, that wasn’t funny,” she coughs out.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, nostrils flaring on a big breath. “What I meant was that I’m a single dad now, so I haven’t had much time to date. It’s just been a while for me. That’s all.”

“Hey, no judgment here.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know the first thing about being a parent, but I can only imagine that over time you lose little bits of yourself since you’re giving so much to your children.”

I don’t know how she managed to get that so right without having kids herself. She heads to the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge and holds the bottle out by the neck. “You want one?”

“Yeah, after that conversation, I’ll take all six.”

I wait, hoping for her chain-smoker laughter, but she gives me a pitiful half smile instead. “I wouldn’t blame you. Being a parent seems rough. I don’t know how you do it all alone.”

“Yeah, sometimes I wonder the same thing,” I say wryly, taking the beer she hands me, ready to move past that awkward conversation. “But I’ve got my parents to help out, and they do a lot of the heavy lifting during the season. I’m pretty lucky I’ve got them.”

She sips her beer, hesitating a little too long. “What about Vi’s mom?”

Of all the questions I want her to ask, that’s the last one I want to answer, so I take a swig of my beer to buy myself some time. “She’s not really in the picture.”

“Why’s that?” she presses, not letting me off the hook.

She settles onto the leather couch next to me, but she’s careful to put as much distance as possible between us. This is the first time she’s actually started a conversation, so I’ll take it, even if it means talking about my nonexistent sex life with the woman I haven’t stopped thinking about for over a decade.

“It was a one-night stand,” I mumble, to get it over with. “She came to me six months later and told me she was pregnant, but she never wanted to be a mom. She’d been struggling with some choices. She debated giving Vi up for adoption, but I told her that I wanted her. That was that. I got full custody of my girl.”

In reality, it was the most difficult decision of my life. I went back and forth for months, talking to my parents, my boys, and a therapist. But every time I thought about my kid out in the world and never getting a chance to know her, a pit formed in my gut. And then when I looked into Vi’s eyes the day she was born, I was a goner.

I haven’t looked back since.

Tuna hops up next to her, and Dakota wiggles her feet beneath her black fur, cocking her head to think about something. “How can you say all of that so casually? If it were me, I’d be worrying about that decision nonstop.”

I take another swig of my beer, already feeling the effects since I don’t drink as often now. “Not much gets to me anymore. I thought having a kid would stress me out more, and it’s still hard, don’t get me wrong, but being a dad also has this way of distilling life down to the most important parts. At least for me. If my baby girl is healthy and happy, then I’m happy.”

She drains her beer as she seems to consider her next words. “I wish I had that attitude. I’m always worrying about things that haven’t even happened. I’ve got like, twenty hypothetical scenarios I’m worrying about at any given moment, and the majority end with me dying.”

She laughs.

I don’t. Not even a little.

“Dakota,” I cut out, my voice deep and rough.

She sucks in a gasp at my tone. “What?”

I glare at her. “Don’t joke about shit like that. It’s not funny. ”

Her eyes flick over me, dropping to my chest for a second, and then she takes a long, long swig of beer, almost like she’s overheated. I can’t even think about something happening to her. Even when I was gone, even when I was trying to get over her, I still couldn’t imagine a world without her in it. I always need her to be happy, even if I’m not.

“But I have to joke about it,” she mumbles, scraping off the beer label. “It’s the only way I know how to cope with the idea that I’m constantly risking my life. Don’t get me wrong, I love bull riding, but it’s still scary as hell. That’s the part that makes it so thrilling, though. All that adrenaline. I’m addicted, even if I am shit at it,” she says, draining the remnants of her beer.

“You’re not shit at it, but let me help you train this summer,” I insist, leaning forward. “Please? I need to stay in shape anyway.”

“It’s really fine.”

I can tell she means the words, but she’s not getting off that easy.

“How about this?” I gently place my beer on the wooden coffee table so I don’t wake up my daughter. “What about a little bet to sweeten the deal?”

Her honey eyes spark with intrigue. As the daughter of a gambler, I know she can’t say no to a challenge. “What kind of bet did you have in mind?”

A corner of my mouth lifts. “The kind I know you like.”