30
I n the kitchen at midnight.
Under the eaves of the front porch.
Behind the barn.
Lord, I cannot stop kissing Wyatt Montgomery.
He’s the teenage make-out session I never knew I needed.The effect he has on my mouth is wicked. I crave him the second we’re apart.
He drives me fucking crazy.
Life for the last two weeks has been so domestic. So gross. So tedious. Laundry. Dinner. Long talks on the porch. And I’m enjoying every stupid second of it.
I like him in my house. I like waking up with him in the morning.
It feels so natural, us together. It’s the happiest I’ve ever been.
And it’s a red fucking flag that I’m not packing my bags and running.
One thing’s for certain. I have too many feelings tangled up in a cowboy named Wyatt Montgomery.
A cowboy who’s my husband. A cowboy I still have to divorce.
One day.
I’ve never been with a man like him. Not like this. There are no boundaries like we kept in the rodeo. One night spent in a hot tub, one kiss, erased them all. Well, almost all.
I held myself back about Aiden. How I still feel those ropes on my wrist. How I let everyone down by letting Aiden into our lives.
How I dated Aiden to hurt Wyatt because I wanted him.
How my heart still screams for relief. At night, I try to muster the courage, but when morning comes, I lose my nerve.
It’s a burden no one else needs. Especially not Wyatt.
I’m in the barn feeding Lawless and Lovely their afternoon snack. Carrots.
“I can’t ride you yet, I’m sorry,” I tell Lovely as she nips at my hand. They’re both as antsy as I am. I look into her big black eyes. “I’ll turn you loose in the field, and you can run around like a fool, how does that sound?”
Lawless paws at the ground, nostrils flaring.
I hit her with a look. “Don’t throw a fit. You’re just fucking fine.”
Movement at the barn door, and Wyatt appears. His brow furrows in that broody way I’m used to. “You should have waited for me,” he says as he storms toward me.
My mouth quirks to the side. “I can do things myself.”
“Stubborn,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss my lips.
I shouldn’t kiss him back. I shouldn’t slide my hands around his broad shoulders and hang on. But I do. I find I can’t stop. I find I need him.
Maybe I like playing house too much with Wyatt Montgomery. That’s what makes this dangerous. Because it’s all pretend, isn’t it?
I slant into his warm body, and Wyatt tugs me against his chest, our tongues brushing against each other, and then Wyatt pulls back and says, “Don’t get any bright ideas about ridin’ without me.”
I make a face at him, hating that he always knows what I’m thinking. “Maybe I already have,” I tease.
He swears. “Goddammit, Fallon, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
I grin and kiss him again. “Remember, I go first.”
“Fuck you.” He laughs, hooking his fingers through my belt loops and holding tight. His eyes darken. “I go first.”
“You worry too much.”
He feathers a big hand along my jaw, those bright-blue eyes shimmering. “Only about you, Trouble.”
Training sessions with Wyatt have pushed me even harder. By now, I can stay on the barrel for over ten minutes. My workouts are more intense and leave my leg and hip screaming. But my drive’s never wavered. I’ll get back on a horse. Soon.
I slam a hand against his chest. “Help me with chores, then.”
We spend most of the day in the barn, cleaning the stalls, then let Lovely and Lawless run themselves silly in the pasture. We finish up by giving them fresh water and then head back to the cottage.
Wyatt hands me my walker, waiting until I orient myself. My heart pounds as he kicks down the grass with his boots to make a path for me.
“You’re almost done with this,” he says, smiling as he glances at me. In two weeks, I graduate from a walker to a cane. I can’t fucking wait.
I pick up the pace. “Let’s see if you can catch me then.”
He lets out a laugh.
Hope suddenly seems so close. All I want to do is get back to my horses. My rodeo. My life. I can do it. With Wyatt here, anything seems possible.
My gaze shifts from my cottage in the distance to Wyatt’s handsome face. His strong, chiseled jaw, his gray T-shirt pulled tight around his muscled biceps.
He’s so perfect.
So beautiful. He’s the only view in the world that I want.
He belongs here. The thought hits me sudden and shocking.
Fuck.
I can’t help wondering if Wyatt would agree.
“Fallon?” Wyatt murmurs, and I realize I’ve stopped. His hand falls to the small of my back. “You okay?”
I squeeze the bars of my walker, snapping myself out of it. “Fine,” I murmur, my heart racing.
A motor roars somewhere nearby, getting closer and closer until a black Escalade pulls into the driveway.
“Pappy,” I say breathlessly. He’s texted me a few times in the last week that he’d be by to discuss next steps.
Wyatt straightens, following my gaze. His face darkens beneath the brim of his Stetson. “Fuckin’ great.”
“Nice place,” Pappy drawls as we walk through the front door.
I snort, not missing the curl of disdain in his voice.
“Yeah,” Tripp echoes, turning in place. He wears his characteristic floppy hair and aw-shucks grin. “It is.”
I give him a smile, leave my walker in the hallway, and hobble-walk my way to the living room.
Wyatt’s gaze finds mine, disapproval evident in his stern expression. I want Pappy to see I don’t need my walker. That I’ll be good as new soon.
“Why’re you here?” Wyatt asks Tripp, arms crossed over his broad chest. His expression is a mix of amusement and disgust. “Pappy’s puppy now?”
“Helpin’ him out. Still need a job,” Tripp says. “Zeke’s Hardware pays jack shit.”
I roll my eyes at their little show of machismo. Men.
Gaze flicking to me, Tripp nods. “You takin’ good care of her?”
Wyatt glares then smirks. “Have to. She is my wife, after all.”
“Wyatt,” I snap. Any chance for that man to toss that word around, he takes it. Never mind the warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Tripp’s eyes widen. “Married, huh? Didn’t think you were the type, Montgomery.” His gaze flicks to me then back to Wyatt. “Sure locked that down, didn’t you?”
A muscle works in Wyatt’s jaw. He wants to hit Tripp. I shouldn’t like his overprotective reaction. That wild look in his eye. But I do.
“Fuck off, Hendrix,” Wyatt drawls, causing a storm cloud to brew on Tripp’s face.
“Shut up, both of you.” Pappy snaps a suspender, drawing us back to the point.
“You want coffee, beer?” I hover in the threshold between the living room and kitchen. I stare at Pappy expectantly.
Pappy waves me down. “No, no. We won’t be here long.”
I swallow and settle onto the couch. Wyatt sits in a corner chair like some cowboy sentry, overseeing it all.
“First things first,” Pappy booms. He holds up a white envelope. “Your check from the Rock ’n Ride.”
He offers it to me.
I take out the check inside and look at it.
A measly 300 bucks.
“You still get paid.” From beside me, Tripp gives me an encouraging smile. “You stayed on longer than most.”
But not long enough. The memory of the bull, the ride, the dizziness in my head has me tensing.
“I don’t want to talk about the past.” I set the check aside, focusing on what’s at stake. “What about the Houston Rodeo next year? I’ve been practicing with Wyatt, and there’s no doubt I’ll be ready. Maybe not bulls, but barrel racing I can do.”
Pappy steeples his fingers. “I’m afraid there won’t be a next year.”
I frown, trying to figure out what he means. Finally, I just ask, “What?”
“We had a good run, my girl.”
Wyatt’s eyes narrow.
Pappy continues. “But I think it’s time we seek other solo ventures.”
My stomach drops.
Solo. The universal word for on your fucking own .
“Wait a goddamn second.” Wyatt’s arms dig into the arms of his chair as if restraining himself from lunging at Pappy. “You’re droppin’ her?”
Silence falls.
Roaring erupts in my head.
“Shit.” Tripp turns to me, pale. “I didn’t know, Fallon. I swear.”
“It’s nothing personal.” Pappy adjusts his wristwatch. “You were a hot commodity, and now—”
“I’m not,” I add bitterly before he can finish.
Pappy extends a hand. “If you could ride again, it’d be a different story, Fallon.
I’d stick with you, bust my ass to get everything you deserve, but the doctors don’t have much hope.
” He chuckles. “And hell, I don’t have much time.
Industry moves quick, my girl. It’s business.
I need the next best thing, the moneymaker.
” Observing me, almost regretfully, he says, “Although, no woman rider I get will have your face.”
Everything he says sounds like it’s being filtered from a tunnel from far away. Blood rushes to my ears, my face.
“I’ll ride again.” My fingers curl to fists on the thighs of my jeans. Rage, or something else, has my entire body shaking. “I will.”
After all of Pappy’s big words about how I was a star, his golden girl—when I finally need someone to believe in me, he’s bailing.
Fucking asshole.
I should have expected this. I should have been smarter. I convinced myself Pappy would fight for me, would stick by me. But like always, like with Aiden, I was fucking wrong.
Pappy rests a hand on his stomach. “This wasn’t an easy choice for me to make.”
“Yes, it was,” I say coldly. Sparks of temper flicker inside me. I want to rage. To run. “Cut the bullshit and admit it. You don’t need me anymore. And you don’t care about me. You never did. At least have the fucking balls to say that.”
I stare at the hardwood floor, the backs of my eyes hot.
Blood, Aiden, that night, that helpless, fucked-up night.
Everything. Everything bad wells up. Everything I thought I had forgotten. No, not forgotten. Buried.
You’re weak.
Worthless.
You fucked up and now all you have is nothing.
Nothing.
Misery and despair sink into my gut like stones. That tiny ember of hope inside me dies. Like that last neon dream I held in my heart has flickered out.
Nothing can fix me. They don’t want a broken, battered, bruised cowgirl.
Pappy sighs like I’m being unreasonable. “I’m sorry it’s ending this way. I did a lot for you, Fallon, to elevate your career, it’s a shame you can’t see that.”
“You bastard,” Wyatt grits out.
My bottom lip starts to tremble. But I clamp down on the emotion, hating that it makes me look vulnerable.
“Fuck you.” I can’t stop the shaking, the white-hot rage that overtakes me. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
Fists clenched, Wyatt stands. “Get out.” His voice holds the darkest edge I’ve ever heard. “Now.”
Pappy stands, adjusting his tie, and shuffles out.
“I’m sorry,” Tripp says, squeezing my shoulder. “It’s bullshit.”
“You, too,” Wyatt growls.
The smile fades from Tripp’s face. He gives me one last hangdog look then follows Pappy. Engines sound from the driveway.
Shakily, I rise. My head, my world, spins. “He doesn’t want me,” I whisper.
Face etched in pain, Wyatt takes a step toward me. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Tears blurring my vision, I whimper, stumbling forward for the only source of calm I know.
Wyatt.