Chapter 34 Goodbyes are a Bitch
Goodbyes are a Bitch
Sawyer
No.
Nope.
No way.
I can not fall for the city boy. No matter how good he looks in a Stetson and Levi’s.
As much as I loved my night with Wes, the whole event looks a lot different in the daylight while I’m working horses. Without the stars overhead and the warmth of his body pressed against mine, I’m realizing how stupid it would be for me to fall for him.
He has no idea what he wants.
Wes may have admitted that once upon a time, he’d wanted to live in Cottonwood Creek, but that was years ago.
It doesn’t mean he wants that life now. It doesn’t mean he’s ready to give up a steady paycheck to gamble on taking over Dawson Ranch for Pops.
Especially not when his dad is counting on him to help manage his growing accounting firm.
Every time I think about him throughout the day, I remind myself that he’s leaving soon.
I’ll enjoy him while I have him, soak up these fleeting moments, but I shouldn’t give him any more pieces of myself.
No more moonlit rides. No more conversations around the fire.
No more tender, vulnerable moments that make my chest ache in ways I don't want to acknowledge.
By the time I spot Allie pulling down my driveway, I’m back to my old cynical self.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Allie as she climbs out of her Jeep, her hair a windblown mess.
“I feel like it’s been forever since we spent time together.”
“I know. I’ve been busy.”
She arches a brow at me. “With a certain city boy?”
I give her a blank stare. “You know city boys aren’t my type.”
“Good thing he’s looking more like a cowboy than a city boy these days, then.”
I can feel the blush flooding my cheeks as images replay in my mind. Wes working with Luci, his strong hands sure and steady. The way he looks when he rides Cash across the pasture, completely at ease. Damn him.
Allie slides her sunglasses on top of her head and scrutinizes me with her gaze. “I had to come out here and see for myself.”
“See what?”
“I bumped into Linda while I was getting groceries. She said you showed up to the pitch game the other night looking like a woman in love.”
“She said what?” I exclaim.
Allie giggles. “I thought she must be exaggerating, but I don’t know. There is something different about you.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just the orgasms.”
“Leave it to a cowboy to get the job done right.”
“Damn right. What’d you bring?” I ask, peeking into the tote bag she’s carrying.
“I brought us dinner. I felt woefully out of the loop when Linda was talking about where you could get your wedding dress. Please tell me I can be a bridesmaid.”
“Linda is a nutcase,” I remind her, leading the way into the house so we can talk somewhere without the frigid wind biting our cheeks.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely,” I mumble, grabbing a bottle of water from my fridge.
“I don’t know. Mrs. Mackey said Wes seemed besotted,” Allie says digging out paper bags dotted with grease and smelling like heaven.
I gnaw on my lip, remembering last night, and how it had felt to be the one he confided in. How we’d stayed tangled up together on the cold, hard ground under the stars for hours before finally riding back home.
“So,” Allie says, leveling me with a look, “are you gonna tell me what I’ve missed?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
Her eyes narrow. “Oh, so you’re not dating Wes Dawson?”
“You knew we were sleeping together. You went with me to get condoms,” I remind her.
“I didn’t know he was taking you to pitch tournaments and on picnic dates. And that is something else entirely,” she says, pointing a finger at me.
Linda and Mrs. Mackey were going to have hell to pay next time I saw them. Nothing is sacred in this town. Nobody knows how to mind their own damn business.
“The pitch tournament was with Pops and his friends. I wouldn’t call it a date. The actual date was a disaster. Luci ran off and Wes had to go wrangle him in the rain. We got into a fight, Dixie ate a condom, and then we had to rush her to the vet.”
She bursts into laughter. “Dixie ate a condom? Why am I just finding out about this?”
“Because if I tell one person, the whole town will find out.”
She scoffs. “I resent that. Don’t lump me in with everyone else. I can keep my mouth shut.”
I rummage through the bag and pop a cheese curd in my mouth, groaning. “God, it’s been forever since I’ve eaten anything this greasy or this delicious.”
She looks up at me sheepishly. “I’m not cutting into any plans you had with your cowboy, am I?”
I shoot her a blank stare. “He’s not my cowboy.”
“He could be your cowboy if you wanted him to be.”
“Ha. In what world? He’s leaving town in two weeks.”
“In the world where he changes his mind and stays ‘cause he’s in love with you,” she says nonchalantly.
Some things never change. “Always the hopeless romantic.”
She smirks. “Yeah, well, you see how well that’s worked out for me. Maybe I should take a page out of your book for once.”
“Yeah, men really go for the jaded snarky attitude I constantly sport.”
“Seemed to work on Wes.”
“Wes is a special case. He—” I pause, the twisting feeling in my chest making it hard to speak.
“He what?”
This conversation pushes on a sore spot, giving me that deep, throbbing ache like an old bruise. I clear my throat. “He likes me the way I am.”
“Aw,” she coos.
“Stop,” I grit out as my molars clamp together.
“You like him.” Allie looks at me, all doe-eyed and earnest.
I skewer her with a glare.
“Oh, you really like him.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, grounding myself with the reminder. “He’s leaving.”
Falling for Wes Dawson would be a very bad idea.
I ignore the part of me that screams it’s too late; I’ve already tripped and am tumbling down that hill, head over boots, but I can play it cool and enjoy two more weeks of mind-altering sex.
Who knows if I’ll ever find someone who’s this well-suited to wrangling the wildness in me again?
The low rumble of a truck pulling up my driveway makes my stomach do a somersault like I’m some smitten fool.
I am not a fool.
My body just recognizes Wes as its sole provider of orgasms right now, so of course, it’s excited to see him.
We hadn’t planned on seeing each other tonight, but I’m not about to turn away a good time.
I make myself walk—not run—to the door. I keep it closed until his boots hit the porch steps.
His eyes crinkle in amusement as I fling the door open in nothing but my oversized graphic T-shirt, not waiting for him to knock.
I lean against the door frame and take him in. My eyes roam over his Levi’s, covered in dust, and settle on the green flannel shirt he’s wearing with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His forearms are thick, corded in muscle from the weeks he’s been working on the ranch. I can make out the veins popping as his arms cross over his chest, and I swear I would lick him from elbow to wrist if I thought he wouldn’t find it absurd.
How is it something as innocuous as a forearm can turn me on so much?
It’s not up for debate; forearms are the sexiest part of a man’s body.
Wes’ deep chuckle pulls my gaze from his arms to his face, and the entertainment dancing in his eyes is obvious. He totally noticed I was ogling him.
“See something you like, Red?” he teases.
I roll my eyes, pretending to be cool as a cucumber when, clearly, I am so far from cool. My body is reacting to his proximity, already aching to be filled because of the forearm porn, and all I want to do is pull him inside so I can have my way with him.
I’m saved from having to form a witty reply when Dixie flies onto the porch, her tail wagging so fervently that her whole body wiggles with it. Wes crouches down in front of her. “Hey, Dix. How are you feeling today, girl?” he croons in a gentle, sweet tone that makes me weak in the knees.
Dixie looks at him with those lovesick puppy-dog eyes. She’s a goner for Wes. That much is apparent, and it makes my insides turn to mush hearing him coo and sweet talk her the way he is.
“She’s been running around, herding the goats all day,” I answer since Dixie can’t speak for herself. “Completely back to herself, wreaking her usual havoc.”
“Good girl,” he murmurs into her fur.
I melt on the spot at those words, even though I know he was talking to the dog and not me.
Down, girl. Keep your lady bits in check.
He must feel me staring because he clears his throat and stands up, shoving his hands in his pocket. “Do you have some time to talk?” There’s a nervousness in the way he avoids my gaze.
Well, that doesn’t bode well for my body’s ideas of what we should be doing tonight. I step back into the warmth of my house and gesture for him to follow.
I snag the bottle of whiskey from the top shelf and grab a couple of tumblers because now that my head is laying out all the possibilities, I’m entirely too anxious.
Wes arches a brow at me when I pour him a couple of fingers of whiskey, but he accepts the tumbler when I place it in his hand.
I pour some for myself and sit at the table, leaving the bottle next to me. Just in case.
I take a long drink of my whiskey. “What’s up?” I ask.
He eyes his glass and takes a small sip. “Well, first of all, I just wanna say that I’m having a really fun time with you.”
I down the rest of the whiskey. “But?”
He winces. “But I’m still leaving at the end of this month.”
Oh.
My heart drops.
It’s a silly reaction. We aren’t dating, and I always knew this would only last for as long as he was in Cottonwood Creek. Regardless, this conversation is throwing me off balance. It’s not the direction I hoped things would go tonight. I didn’t want to have to think about him leaving.
I square my shoulders. “I hadn’t thought your plans would change just because we fucked,” I reassure him, pouring my second and last drink for the night.