20. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Maci
Me:
You showing those cattle who’s boss?
Cowboy:
Depends. Who’s asking?
Me:
crying laughing emoji
Cowboy:
Don’t worry, they won’t hurt me too badly before tonight.
Be ready at 7.
Me:
Yes, sir.
Care to tell me where we’re going now?
Cowboy:
zipped lips emoji
Standing in my bedroom with the closet doors flung open, I curse Sutton for keeping me in the dark. How is anyone supposed to dress appropriately if they don’t know where they’re going?
I wonder if I’ve given him the impression of needing to be wooed or impressed, or if this is just his nature.
The temperature has dropped again, so after entirely too long contemplating, I pull on some jeans and a pumpkin-colored, cashmere sweater. I’m still determined to strong-arm Texas into playing fair with the seasons. It’s not lost on me that I’ll lose.
Going through the house with Randi and Liv today was refreshing. Randi shared more stories with us from her childhood as Liv and I laughed and cried appropriately throughout. A large part of me feels like we honored Nana, did the house justice, by going through and talking about all the beautiful memories. Between today and the high of seeing Sutton again, nothing can dampen my mood.
About the time I throw myself onto the couch and turn the TV on, headlights crest the top of the driveway. The blinds are closed, so it’s just the shine that I notice, and this time I wait—quite impatiently—until Sutton comes to the door.
The rap of his knuckles against the wood sends electricity shooting down my spine.
It’s an effort to contain my giddiness as I open the door and take him in. He’s wearing a blue Henley that matches his eyes, jeans, and a light-colored felt hat. Authentically him, but all cleaned up. My mouth waters.
“Hi,” I say, pushing open the storm door.
“Hi, yourself,” he says, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. Once again, he pulls out an offering .
“Oh you brought me—” The words begin to tumble from my lips, expecting typical flowers, until my brain catches up to my eyes. I lean forward in the doorway examining what he holds more closely as my face scrunches in confusion. “Is that a cactus?”
My eyes fly up to his and he takes a step forward, gauging my response.
Sutton holds a small painted bowl with a tiny, purple-tinted cactus, the top of which is softly shaped like a heart.
“I came across it at the ranch.” He extends the bowl to me. “It’s a prickly pear.”
“It’s beautiful.” My weight shifts as I study the contents of the bowl in my hands, and like a magnet, Sutton shifts forward, stepping over the threshold. His eyes heat my skin.
“I know your stance on flowers.”
My mouth falls open and I catch a breath, my eyes shooting back to his. The corner of his mouth tips up and he presses his lips together, trying to hide a smirk.
My cheeks heat. He heard me. And he remembered.
Nana loved plants. She would talk about propagating cacti, among other things, and how to properly transfer them. This is no last-minute flower stop. My throat thickens. “Thank you.”
“Mhm.” He ducks his head to kiss me on the apple of my cheek. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” I’m already on fire. “Let me put this inside.” Thankfully, Sutton moves back so I can think straight. I take the cactus to my room, placing it on the bedside table.
I grab my cross-body bag from the foyer table and lock the door as we step onto the porch. He offers me a warm hand and leads me out to the truck, where he opens the door and waits for me to climb in so he can close it.
His truck smells divine. I know it must be a particular woman who enjoys the smell of hay, livestock, and leather, mixed with his cologne, but I inhale deeply. In high school, Izzy showed pigs, something no one would believe by looking at her. The scent of the Ag barn, livestock shows, and rodeo are seared into my brain. It’s a welcomed scent that feels like coming home.
My eyes appreciate his body as he rounds the front of the truck and climbs in.
When the truck comes to life, I’m not even a little surprised when Alan Jackson is playing quietly on the radio. Sutton shoots me a grin and I bite my lip to keep from smiling too wide.
He throws the truck into reverse and puts his right hand on the back of my seat. His smile widens when he sees me eyeing him.
In a single, swift motion, he backs up the winding gravel drive to the street. These panties are ruined. Why is that so sexy?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He pauses momentarily before putting the truck in drive, expecting me to answer.
“Like what?” I fib, turning my eyes to the street.
He breathes a laugh and interlaces our fingers on the console. I refuse to ask where we’re going. At this point, I’m just along for the ride.
His voice is quiet and deep. “You like barbecue?”
I glance sidelong at him.
He grins. “Alright, then.” After he takes two lefts leaving Nana’s, I have an inkling where we’re headed. Granger’s BBQ is the best in town and I’m pleased when he pulls in and parks alongside countless other trucks. I move to get out with him, but he squeezes harder on my hand, holding me in place. I nearly get whiplash when I turn back to look at him. What the fuck?
His eyes are deadly serious, his chin lowered like a puma preparing to strike. “Don’t touch that door. ”
Pulling my head back, I blink. “I thought—"
Releasing my hand, he holds my gaze. His voice is lethal, but a different tension builds in me as he enunciates each syllable. “Do not touch that door.” Then he gets out of the truck.
He extends a hand to me after opening my door.
“All you had to do was say you wanted to open the door,” I grumble, taking it.
The truck door slams closed behind me, not as hard as I interpret, and Sutton leans into me with his lips by my ear. “I wanted to open the door.”
A mischievous gleam fills his eyes when he puts space between us.
One side of my mouth tips up. “Yes, sir.”
Something flashes in his eyes. His hand is warm on the small of my back as he guides me toward the door. I don’t need a chaperone or a guide. I haven’t needed anyone for a long time. But I don’t move away from his touch, frankly, because it’s driving me a little bit wild and my core is throbbing already. Fiercely independent or not, Sutton is charming, especially given that nothing feels forced. His actions seem as natural as breathing for him.
The warmth disappears as he opens the restaurant door, allowing me to pass through.
During the two-minute wait to order at the counter, a couple of middle-aged men at a corner table wave politely. Sutton gives them a returning two-finger wave. Habitually, I scan the seating area, but the place is broken into smaller rooms and I can’t see much. Something is setting me on edge.
At the counter, Sutton gestures for me to order first. I opt for a sausage wrap. He glances at me briefly as I order from the clerk and follows up with his own request, which includes over a pound each of brisket, sausage, and sides. I can’t imagine he’s going to put away all of the food he’s ordered and I purse my lips. Far be it from me to judge another person’s eating preferences .
The cashier gives us a table number and Sutton leads me to the only available table, not far from the men who greeted him earlier. We have to pass their way, so he casually stops and has a short conversation about cattle, something I know close to zilch about. I tune in as best as possible. He makes a point to introduce me, but between my lack of knowledge on the subject and the feeling of being under the microscope, I can’t fully focus. Plastering what I hope is a bright, casual smile on my face, I continue to scan the room as nonchalantly as possible.
We move to the table by the window. The front door dings as someone exits and the cashier from the front counter comes around with our food. I’m even more sure now that I see what all Sutton ordered that he will not be eating all of it.
I eye the food speculatively. He sends an inviting look across the brisket at me. “If you ask nicely, I’ll share.” That mischievous grin has returned and fiery butterflies take flight in my chest.
I hold my sausage wrap up and show it off with a little shake. “I’m fine.”
An engine revs nearby and my eyes shoot out the window. At the exit of the parking lot, Colt is on a motorcycle about to pull onto the street, but his eyes are on me and he winks. A shiver runs down my spine as I turn my gaze back to the table.
Sutton’s eyes narrow. He looks out the window and back to me questioningly.
I shake my head and lean forward to take a bite of my wrap, held over the disposable tray to avoid dripping grease everywhere.
“Maci.” My name on his lips does things to me it shouldn’t. I meet his narrowed eyes. “What was that?” It’s clear from his tone he isn’t going to be brushed off again. Reading my mind, he says, “And do not tell me nothing.”
I hold his gaze for a moment, deliberating .
Sutton’s attractive, intuitive, and kind as far as I can tell. He grounds me in a way I haven’t been in too many years. Still, I don’t know what he’s getting at. No one threatened me. It was just a creep on a bike.
He continues to wait. His jaw ticks and I know he wants an answer.
“Colt,” I mumble, setting my wrap down with a little more force than necessary. His cheeks twitches below his left eye, though he says nothing. “The biker.”
“I know who he is,” he says. He releases his hold on his own food, of which he hasn’t taken a single bite, and leans his back against his chair. One hand disappears below the table and his boots slide further apart. I imagine he’s rubbing his leg as a calming gesture. His uninterrupted focus causes pooling between my thighs. I press my lips together.
On the surface he looks calm, no one in the restaurant would glance twice at his demeanor, and yet there’s a tension in the air. He wants to understand what’s going on, but also never truly makes me feel forced or uncomfortable about sharing.
“He bothered you.”
I avert my eyes, deliberately turning my head to look around the room.
“Hey.” This time, his tone is softer and I immediately find his eyes again. His jaw is relaxed and he leans toward the table, setting his arms atop it, like we’re about to share a secret. “What happened?”
“He was just leaving.”
Without missing a beat, he says, “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m asking. Don’t shut me out.” His face is both serious and soft as he stares at me for a long moment. The way he reads me is too intense. I always try to keep things surface-level. Safe. But he’s too good at seeing through my shields. Knowing that he wants to know what I keep hidden is equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.
A chosen few get through my barriers and those people have been in my life for years. So why do I want to let him in after a few nights?
I take a deep breath to steady myself. “He just winked.” I shake my head, annoyed at myself and Colt.
“What happened at the bar?”
I lick my lips. “He asked me out. I told him no. He was angry.” I study the dingy tile on the floor for a moment and then look directly into his still waiting stare. Once again, I consider the limited time I plan to spend here. I’m not going to skirt the choices I’ve made, to avoid discomfort with someone who isn’t even going to be in my life that long. If he wants the truth, he’s going to get it.
“He bought Leah and me drinks one night when we were out. That’s how she met Pete. We hung out with them. I suspect a drink for her was collateral, either to get us both to come over or to distract her with Pete.”
Talking about exes with people I’m dating isn’t really an issue. The past is the past and if they have hang-ups about it, that’s on them. Talking to a man I really like, about a really stupid decision, feels vastly different.
“We hooked up one night. It was stupid and less than satisfactory, but I was trying to get out of my head.” He masks the surprise well if there is any. “I told him it was nothing. I didn’t even think it was an issue. He didn’t exactly strike me as the type to stick around.
“Anyway, what you saw was him trying to be charming and ask me out. He was pretty pissed I said no.” The unease from the night at the bar slithers beneath my skin. “I haven’t seen him or talked to him since then.”
I say the last part for my benefit, not Sutton’s. Convincing myself there’s no reason to be concerned. Colt was just being a dick because he happened to see me again.
I stare at my wrap like it’s the reason behind all of my irritation .
“Maci, look at me.” His voice remains comforting and sure.
I do. So much is swirling around in his eyes.
“You’re not stupid. And you don’t need to justify any decisions to me. Or anyone else.” His face hardens. “You deserve to be satisfied, not scared.”
He rises and walks to the front counter before returning to the table with black to-go containers. He makes quick work of boxing everything up and putting it into a bag. “Come on.”
I take his hand willingly when he reaches for me. It’s a new normal that I gravitate to, enjoying the comfort he infuses into me with touch.
At the truck, Sutton situates the food on the back floorboard before opening my door, never letting go of my hand. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. Those perfect eyes twinkle mischievously as he studies my face. “Do you trust me?”
I can’t help but smile and whisper, “Yes.”
“Good.” His other hand grips my neck and tangles in my hair as he leans in to kiss me. It’s possessive, and warm, and over faster than I want. He pulls away and kicks his head toward my seat, indicating that I should get in, which I do without hesitation. Hoping to create some friction, I cross one knee over the other to ease the ache he’s created.