Chapter 17
Seventeen
Baylor
I risk a quick glance at Macklin in the passenger seat of my new SUV as we cross over the corporate limits of Nashville.
He has no idea where we’re going. I told him two weeks ago that we had plans for today and that we’d be spending the night.
I told him it was a surprise, and he simply nodded and didn’t ask questions.
Well, not until this morning, as we were getting ready to leave his place.
He wanted to take his truck and drive, but I told him we were taking my new Traverse and that I was driving.
He grumped but never really complained. I love my new SUV.
Sure, it’s bigger than what I need, but what’s the point of getting a smaller car if we’re working toward a family one day soon?
Okay, now, if I’m being honest. It’s been a little over a month since we confessed our love for each other, and Macklin pretty much said he’d give me the world.
I don’t need the world. I just need him.
Anyway, we’re still not using protection, but I’m suddenly not worried.
If we’re being honest, I wasn’t before either.
I was devastated when I got my period, but last week, I handled it just fine.
I think it was a lot of things: hormones for one, my love for him that I was still holding inside, for two, and some of the pain that my ex left behind, for three.
I think somewhere in my mind I was thinking if it wasn’t then, it would never be, that my time was running out.
But that’s not true. Sure, I’m going to be thirty-one this year, but we still have time to start a family, and the way we’ve been working toward that goal lately, well, it’s bound to happen soon.
“Wait, is that where we’re going?” He points to a billboard sign advertising tonight’s rodeo.
“Yep.”
“Whoop!” he cheers, then leans over as far as the seat belt will allow and kisses my cheek. “Best girlfriend ever!”
I laugh. “I thought that I could experience a little of your world. I know you’re retired now, but you can still explain all the ins and outs, and I’m sure you’ll see someone you know.”
“You’ve been to a rodeo before,” he reminds me.
“I have. But I’ve never been to one as a cowboy’s girl. I want to see it through your eyes.” I pull into the arena parking lot and put the SUV in Park before turning to face him. “Our hotel is right across the street, and I managed to get us behind-the-scenes passes, so here we are.”
He takes off his seat belt, turns in his seat, and cups my cheek. “I love you, Baylor.”
“I love you, too.” I smile because it feels damn good to say those words.
We tell each other as often as we can. For someone who came from a five-year relationship where physical touch was few and far between, and affirmations of love, even less so, being with Macklin is like being reborn, living a life I only ever dreamed of.
“Let’s do this.” He reaches for the handle and is out of the SUV, rushing to my side to open my door for me. I sit patiently, letting him. Not because I’m high maintenance, but because I love the smile he gives me when I don’t complain about him doing nice things for me.
Together, hand in hand, we head inside the arena. Macklin leads the charge, knowing exactly where to go. We scan our tickets and receive badges for behind-the-scenes access.
“So, do you think you’ll see anyone you know?” I ask. The words are barely out of my mouth when a shout carries over to us.
“Macklin McBride. The man. The myth. The legend!”
Macklin chuckles. “Yeah, I’ll know a few. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
With my hand tucked into his, he leads us toward a large group of cowboys, standing around in a circle. They’re all wearing tight-fitting jeans and cowboy hats.
“There he is. Damn good to see you, man.” One of the guys comes forward and pulls Macklin into one of those one-armed, back-slapping man hugs. I try to pull away, but he won’t let me.
“Good to see you, Hank. How are things?” he asks, letting go of my hand and sliding an arm around my waist, holding me close.
“Wait!” Hank says, his eyes flash from me to Macklin, and back again. “You settling down, McBride? I never thought you would ever get over—” he starts, but Macklin interrupts him.
“Hank, meet the love of my life, Baylor. Bay, baby, this is Hank. We rode the circuit together. He retired, as well, but stuck around. He has a riding school, and he still travels to all the events to coach his students.”
“Baylor?” Hank asks, his mouth falling open in shock.
“Wait, did you say Baylor?” another guy asks. He thrusts his hand out to me. “I’m Brad. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“You, too,” I say, slowly smiling at him, then glancing back at Macklin.
“Damn, brother, I’m happy for you,” Hank says. “Bring it in, darlin’,” he says, leaning in for a hug, but Macklin twists so that he misses, and I’m pressed tightly against him.
It happens fast. One second, I think I’m about to be passed off into a friendly hug, and the next, Macklin shifts, deliberately, turning just enough that Hank ends up embracing nothing but air. Suddenly, I’m pinned, firmly pressed against Macklin’s chest.
“Nope,” he says. His tone is possessive, but also final. It’s blunt and to the point. Heat rushes up my neck as laughter breaks out around us.
“I don’t even know why you tried,” Brad says, shaking his head like this is a well-known, long-established rule.
I blink, still half processing the way Macklin’s arm has tightened around me, like he didn’t even think about it. He just reacted on instinct. Because I’m his.
“I feel like I’m missing a few pieces of this puzzle,” I say, tilting my head back to look up at him. He doesn’t look bothered. Not embarrassed. Not even slightly apologetic. Just… calm. Certain.
“Mac here talked about you all the time,” Hank fills in, grinning like he’s enjoying my confusion a little too much.
I search Macklin’s face for some kind of denial, some sign Hank’s exaggerating, but all I get is that same easy shrug. Like it’s no big deal. Like it’s obvious.
Before I can say anything, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. It’s quick, but the warmth lingers, sinking into my skin, straight to my chest. “Love you,” he murmurs, low enough that it feels like it’s just for me, even with everyone standing right there.
Something inside me melts. The noise around us fades a little. The teasing, the laughter, it all blurs at the edges while his words settle in my chest, steady and real.
I curl my fingers lightly into his shirt, grounding myself in him, in this moment, in the quiet certainty of it. My heart feels too full for my chest. The love that I have for this man is bigger than anything I’ve ever known, and there’s no place I’d rather be than in his arms.
“All. The. Time,” Brad adds, smirking.
“She already knows,” Macklin tells them. “If you think you’re spilling my secrets, you’re going to have to dig deeper.”
“Right.” Hank laughs. “Like you have secrets. This one”—he points to Macklin, but he’s looking at me—“he’d turn every woman away that tried to get close to him. He wouldn’t even let them buy him a drink.”
“And eventually, they weren’t even allowed to touch him when he was posing for pictures or autographs,” Brad chimes in.
“What? Why?” I glance up at Macklin.
“They weren’t you.” He says it so simply, so matter-of-fact, that I’m tempted to drag him across the street to our hotel room to show him what his nonchalant replies and that simple shrug mean to me.
I’ve never been loved like this. I want to pull out my cell phone, text Ellison, and ask her if this is how she feels every single day. This deep, all-consuming love. The confidence that he’s in this with me, every step of the way, no matter what happens, he’s got me. I’ve got him.
However, I don’t reach for my phone because I don’t need to call my sister to know the answer is a resounding yes. Macklin looks at me the way Copeland looks at Ellison, the way our dad used to look at our mom.
This man loves me.
Unconditionally.
I love him irrevocably.
“No way! You’re Macklin McBride. Can we have your autograph?” A group of young women, probably in their early twenties, stops before us. “You’re Hank Anderson! Can we get a picture?” The girl who seems to be speaking for all of them moves to Macklin’s side and tries to slide her arm into his.
“Whoa, no touching,” he says, pulling away. “My wife is standing right here.”
The girl rolls her eyes. “It’s just a picture.”
“To you. To me, it’s disrespecting the woman I love. You can have a picture and an autograph, but there will be no contact.” His voice is stern.
“It’s okay, Mac,” I whisper. “They’re your fans.” I truly don’t mind, but my heart is melting for this man and the way he loves me. And don’t get me started on how he called me his wife.
He turns his back on them. His eyes locked on mine. “It’s not okay, Baylor.” He’s pissed, and I can’t help it. I smile, which eases some of the tension in his jaw. Rising on my toes, I kiss just under his jaw.
“I know you love me, Mac. Those women won’t change that. You can take a picture with your fans. Just remember, I’m your number one fan. Always.”
“I don’t ride anymore, baby. I don’t need to play nice for sponsorships. Not that I did the last several years anyway.”
“You’re one of a kind, cowboy.”
“Nah, I’m just yours,” he says, pressing his lips to mine.
By the time he pulls away, the women are gone, Brad is, too, but Hank is still there, smirking at us.
“I need to get moving. Want to meet for a drink after the show?”
“Maybe next time,” Macklin tells them. “Good luck to your riders tonight.”
“Thanks, brother. It was good to see you. Baylor, a pleasure,” he says, tipping his cowboy hat, before turning and walking away.
“We could have had drinks, or you could have, and I could have chilled in the room.”
“First of all, I’ll never leave you behind in the room. If I’m going out, you’re by my side. Second, no drinks,” he says, his hand resting on my belly. “Did you forget that I’m trying to knock you up?”