Homebound

37. Keep Those Boots On

37

KEEP THOSE BOOTS ON

DAKOTA

W yatt’s late.

That man’s always ten minutes early. He’s more reliable than my Flo app, so something must be wrong. But in a petty twist of fate, Boone’s competing, so unfortunately, he’s by my side while I pace the Tejas rodeo grounds, waiting for them.

“Have you seen Wyatt?” I grunt at Boone, my eyes darting across the crowded stands, searching for any sign of my family here at the rodeo. “Or my Dad? Or Lana? They should be here by now.”

“No, I haven’t,” he replies, tugging me to a stop by the sheep pens.

I’ve been trying to avoid him, still vacillating over whether I actually want to hear him out, but our paths keep crossing in this dusty rodeo maze of corrals and trailers. His navy eyes, shadowed by the brim of his straw Stetson, search my face as if trying to read my thoughts.

“Can we talk now?” he murmurs over the jingle of spurs. “I still need to get my jacket back from you. I had to borrow someone else’s. ”

“No,” I hiss, yanking my arm out of his grasp. “We’re not talking right now, or ever. I have to concentrate.”

He holds up his hands. “Okay, I get it. How about we do dinner? I’ve missed you. Next week or—”

My phone vibrates, cutting him off mid-sentence, and I’m grateful for the interruption. I quickly dig into my pocket, pulling it out to see Wyatt’s name flashing on the screen, and lift it to my cheek. “Hey, where are you? I was—”

“Our tire blew out,” he shouts, and I jerk, startled by the panic in those few words.

I’ve never heard Wyatt sound so stressed. It takes a lot to get him riled up, and by a lot , I mean a category-five hurricane striking during a nuclear explosion.

“Okay, back up. What happened?” I hammer out, stomping away from Boone to find a private hay barrel by the goats. “Are you okay? Is Vi okay?”

My little devil better be okay.

“No, I’m not.” He pants, sounding out of breath like he’s pacing. “The truck got a flat, so we’re all stranded on some backcountry road, waiting for a tow to come pick us up since we don’t have a spare, and now the babysitter just called me freaking the fuck out because she invited her lame fucking boyfriend over to ‘watch a movie,’ and like a fuckwit, he invited his even lamer friends, and now the babysitter’s panicking because our barn’s turning into a fucking rager, and she can’t get them to leave. I’m worried as fuck about Vi, but I can’t go get her because I’m fucking stuck, and I should’ve vetted the babysitter more. Fuck! This is all my fault.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say fuck so many times in one paragraph, so I try to keep my voice soothing.

“Wyatt, it’s not your fault. You did vet the babysitter. Your mom got a recommendation from someone in town,” I reassure him, even though I’m feeling just as worried over Vienna, but one of us has to stay calm.

“And I can go check on her,” I offer.

He pauses. “No, you can’t. You’ve got the rodeo.”

Wyatt has been doing so much for me this summer, helping me train, that I want to be there for him. Not to mention the thought of something bad happening to Vi is actually making me a little murderous.

I’ll get another chance to impress the scout.

Wyatt and Vi are more important.

“Let me do this for you,” I say. “You do so much for everyone else that I want to help.”

“Are you sure?” he says, and the relief in his tone is palpable. I can practically hear his shoulders falling.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I think I’d do anything for you and Vi at this point,” I admit honestly, heading to the parking lot. “I’m already getting in Daisy Blue. Want me to pick you up?”

He pauses again, longer this time, like he’s thinking. “No, we took the backroads here, so we’re out of the way. You’re closer. I’ll feel better knowing you’re at home with her. Thank you, Dakota,” he breathes, his voice finally easing for the first time since he picked up the call.

“Of course, I’ll be back at the barn in thirty minutes.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” he murmurs again before hanging up.

“Anything for you, summer boy,” I whisper into the sunset air, not that he can hear.

As I head to my truck, the bustling sounds of the rodeo fade behind me, and the engine roars to life. One the way home, I break a few traffic violations because my mind races with thoughts of what I’ll find when I get to the barn. All I can think about is Vi, picturing her scared, crying all alone.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel. It makes me absolutely furious.

When I was in high school, I gave my dad a stress-induced stomach ulcer with a few house parties, so I know they can get out of control.

The ball of orange sun dips low in the sky as I speed down the sprawling two-lane highway. Finally, the barndominium comes into view, and I pull up to the chaotic scene—teenagers spill out onto the patio, and laughter echoes in the evening air.

I. Am. Fuming.

If something bad happened to my girl, someone’s going to prison.

After parking, I slam the truck door, storming toward the barn. The sight that greets me is lighter fluid for my rage. The place is a disaster, littered with trash and empty beer cans, the obnoxious thump of country music blaring from the speakers—really shitty country music, none of the nineties classics.

The moment I step inside, the smell of spilled beer hits me. I scan the living room, searching for Vienna and Luna, but I can’t find them in the crowd of solo cups.

The babysitter comes rushing up to me, tears streaming down her face, so she clearly feels bad. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’m so sorry. Please don’t tell my mom. I didn’t think this would happen, and all these people just showed up, and now I can’t get them to leave, and I’m sorry.”

She wipes the snot from her nose, but I ignore her tears, only focused on my little devil. “Where’s Vi?”

She sniffs. “I put her down in her room. I’ve been watching her I swear.”

I’m still in my rodeo gear, so I get a few looks and whistles as I shove my way through the crowd, but they must be afraid of me because the further I walk, the more the crowd seems to part, and the less I have to barrel through them.

Ignoring the stares, I head straight to Wyatt’s bedroom. The door is closed, and I fling it open to find Vienna crying in her crib, her face tear-streaked, and Luna curled up in a ball at the foot like she’s keeping watch.

When I walk inside, she perks her fluffy head up .

The relief that hits me almost makes my knees buckle, but the rage comes a second later. Who the hell is this babysitter’s asshole boyfriend?

Luna’s black tail starts thumping when she sees me, and I murmur, “Hey, Tuna Roll,” and pat her head as I walk by to snuggle Vienna.

“Hey, little devil,” I soothe, scooping her up into my arms. She instantly calms down, her sobs quieting to soft whimpers. That gets me every time. Being the one who calms her down. “I’d be pissed too if I were you; I get it. This music’s loud. Come here, sweetie. You want to look at the ceiling fan?”

“Mah,” she murmurs into my chest, and that’s a new word. I’m not sure if it means she wants more snuggles, but either way I give her what she wants.

She stares up at me with those big, green, tear-streaked eyes, her little face crumpled. I lift her pink T-shirt and wipe the snot on her nose.

“I’ve got you, girl. I’m here. I’m here,” I murmur.

She burrows into my chest, her tiny hands clutching at my leather riding jacket, and I think this toddler melting into me might be the best feeling in the world. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and maybe that’s why it’s been so easy for me to fall for her. But I also think it’s because she’s Wyatt’s.

That one little nuzzle ignites a flare of protectiveness. I might not be her mom, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt her. She’s mine now. Vienna clings to me, her small body trembling slightly, but I hold her close.

Swaying her.

Calming her in the night with the chirping crickets keeping us company.

I’ve never been the person someone can depend on because I’ve been relentlessly going after what I want, but what’s that going to get me at the end of my life? I’ve never felt needed like this before, and I think this might be addicting. For so long, I’ve only had to worry about myself, never anyone else, but her tiny little fists clinging onto me makes my life feel like it’s worth something more.

Life is made up of memories you leave with other people, so the more people you love, the more memories you make, and the more you’ll be remembered. I want to be remembered by the people I love.

With Vienna on my hip, I storm into the living room like a mama grizzly. I’ve dealt with enough rowdy cowboys that I can handle some rowdy teenagers.

My eyes zero in on the iPhone hooked up to the speaker. Without a second thought, I march over and yank it out, the abrupt silence hits like a record screech.

“What the hell?” some little asshole shouts. “Who turned off the music?”

I chuck the phone against the wall, hard enough to crack the screen, and the room falls silent as everyone turns to stare at me.

My breath comes in ragged gasps.

“On the count of three,” I yell, holding up a finger. “Everyone better get the fuck out of my house, or I’m calling the cops! One…”

They scatter like cockroaches, scrambling for the door.

“Two….” Another finger. More scrambles.

“Three!”

In seconds, the house is empty, the only sounds remaining are the distant hum of cars racing off on gravel and the soft sniffles from Vienna. I take a deep breath, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, but it’s fine—everything’s fine.

“It’s okay, little devil,” I whisper, brushing a curl of gold from her forehead. Soothing her is actually soothing me. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

With the house finally quiet, I rock her gently, humming “Banana Pancakes” by Jack Johnson until her breathing steadies and her tiny hands relax their grip on my jacket .

I don’t know how long we stay like that, but I’ll hold her all night if that’s what she needs. She falls asleep in my arms, and I tuck her back into her crib, set up the monitor, and start cleaning up the absolute mess those little shits made, picking up empty beer cans and discarded vape pens.

I text Wyatt to let him know everything is fine. He replies a second later.

Wyatt

Tow still isn’t here, so I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t wait up

Wyatt

You have no idea how grateful I am. I don’t even have words. I think you might be the only person I know who could clear out a house of teenagers on her own

Me

I’ll always be the bad cop to your good cop 3

There are dots, then nothing, dots again, nothing, until his message pops onto my screen.

Wyatt

Oh yeah?

How bad are you?

Me

You might need some handcuffs (;

Wyatt

Already have them (;

Me

Look at you, still surprising me after all these years

Wyatt

Just you wait, honey

With the biggest, giddiest grin on my face from those texts, I shut off my phone and get to work cleaning, which quickly has my lips turning down.

As I pick up red solo cups, Luna shadows me around, and I think about how much worse this could have been. It surprises me just how furious I am on Wyatt’s behalf, and by the time I finish cleaning over an hour later, the house is spotless.

I take a quick shower and put on my cowboy boots and an old, massive rodeo T-shirt because I need to repark Daisy Blue since all those cars were in the way. But then exhaustion hits.

I plop down on my floral bedspread with the baby monitor against my chest, and before I know it, my eyes are drifting closed, my boots still on my feet.

“Dakota.”

A soft whisper into the night, so quiet I can’t be sure it’s real.

The next thing I feel is something warm pressing against my bare legs, climbing higher and higher, and… my eyes fly open. Wyatt’s nestled between my thighs, dropping kisses up my skin as he tugs up my shirt. I glance around my moonlit bedroom, still half-dazed.

“You’re home,” I murmur, my voice thick with sleep. “Where’s Vi?”

“She’s safe and sound, asleep in her crib. I’ve spent the past thirty minutes rocking with her, calming us both down, but then I came in here because…” He kisses my hip crease, and his breath hitches. “I figured I owe you a thank you. A big thank you, for taking care of everything. You just…”

He drops his head between my legs, shuddering fiercely. “You have no idea how much this meant to me. I owe you everything for what you did tonight. I completely forgot that the Pbr scout was going to be there at the rodeo, or I never would’ve let you come, and the whole drive home I felt so fucking shitty when I remembered.”

I tangle my fingers in his golden strands, pulling him closer, desperate to comfort him. “Don’t worry. I’ve still got the qualifiers at the end of the summer, so this wasn’t a make-or-break-it thing. You don’t owe me anything.”

He jerks his head up, and there, I find a wildness in his glassy eyes I’ve never seen before. Something loose and free, and it makes me a little feral, too.

His grip tightens around the backs of my knees. “I owe you everything, and I think I know exactly how to thank you.”

In an instant, he yanks off my T-shirt so I’m left in nothing but my white cowgirl boots. He stares at my naked body with so much lust in his eyes that I get swept up in the moment. I reach down to take my boots off, but his hand flies up to stop me.

“No,” he commands, his grip tightening around my wrists, eyes flaring with desire. “Keep those boots on, honey.”