Chapter Thirty-Five
The late afternoon sun hangs low over Wildhaven Storm, throwing long shadows across the festivities. My thighs ache in that satisfying way that comes after hours in the saddle, and my shirt clings to my back from sweat and sun.
Today has been chaos in the best possible way.
The Raintree-Storm Rodeo Academy grand opening has been a long time coming, and a dream come true.
But right now, I’m happy for it all to be winding down and to be finishing my last guided trail ride of the day.
“Did you see that deer?” the tiny voice seated in the saddle in front of me asks.
I glance down at Ruby. Waylon’s daughter. Her riding helmet is slightly crooked, and her cheeks are flushed pink, but the grin on her face is infectious.
“It wasn’t a deer. It was a Rocky Mountain elk,” I tell her. “He was probably watching you ride and thinking he should take lessons.”
Ruby beams like I just told her she was the best cowgirl in Wyoming.
The group follows me down the final stretch of the trail, weaving between cottonwoods until the barn comes into view. A few ranch hands wait near the hitch rail to take the horses.
As soon as we stop, Ruby swings her leg over the saddle with my help and lands on the ground.
“That was the best ride ever,” she announces.
“Better not let Shelby hear you say that,” I tease.
Her eyes go wide, and she raises a finger to her lips. “Shh, don’t tell her.”
I laugh as I help remove her helmet. We hang it in the tack room with her riding gear.
The other riders thank me as the ranch hands lead their horses away, and within minutes, the group disperses back into the swirl of activity around the ranch.
Ruby slips her hand into mine.
“Let’s go find your daddy,” I say.
We leave the barn and head toward the row of tents where the music is louder, and the crowd is thicker.
The place is starting to clear out.
Vendors are packing up, and guests are loading their exhausted children into their trucks.
Ruby suddenly stops dead. “Snow cones!”
I follow her gaze to a little stand with a brightly colored umbrella and a big machine grinding ice into fluffy mounds.
The temperature is rapidly dropping as the sun starts setting, but who am I to refuse? Auntie Harleigh is a pushover.
“Well,” I say, pretending to think it over, “it would be rude not to support the vendors.”
Ruby grins and drags me toward it.
Two minutes later, she’s clutching a cherry-red snow cone, and I’m holding one the color of the ocean.
Blue raspberry.
My fingers are already sticky as the sugary syrup runs down the edge of the paper cone.
Ruby takes a huge bite and immediately shivers. “Brain freeze!”
I laugh. “Slow down, kiddo.”
We step away from the stand and scan the crowd.
“No sign of your dad yet,” I say.
Ruby shades her eyes dramatically and looks around. Like her three feet and ten inches can see anything but a sea of kneecaps.
We walk deeper into the crowd and right into Porter.
He stands about twenty yards away, talking with someone near the beer tent. Even from this distance, he’s easy to spot—tall, broad shoulders, dark hair catching the sunlight.
And he’s wearing jeans and a white henley, boots and a cowboy hat.
Yummy.
My man can wear the hell out of a suit, but I really like the cowboy side of him.
“Let’s go say hi to my friend Porter.”
Ruby nods and takes my hand, and I lead her over to him.
My pulse speeds up the closer we get.
We’ve been sneaking around for weeks now.
Private moments. Stolen kisses. Late nights in his work cave. I’ve even spent a few overnights at his house in Moose.
And right now, he has no idea we’re walking straight toward him.
He looks up mid-sentence.
The second he sees me, his entire face changes.
His eyes warm. His mouth curves.
That slow, sexy smile of his hits me like a punch to the chest every single time.
“Hey,” he says, stepping toward us.
And then he instinctively bends down like he’s about to kiss me.
I see someone walking up behind him.
Barron.
Porter’s father.
Oh hell.
Time slows down in that horrible way it does right before something goes very wrong.
So, I do the only thing my panicking brain can think of.
I drop the snow cone.
The icy blue mountain slips from my hand and smashes into the ground right between us.
Slush explodes everywhere.
Cold, syrupy ice splatters across Porter’s jeans.
Across his boots.
And, most tragically, across his nice white henley.
Porter jumps back. “Son of a bitch, that’s cold!”
He looks down at his shirt in horror as bright blue stains spread across the fabric.
Ruby bursts into giggles.
I press my lips together so hard that they nearly disappear, trying not to laugh.
Porter looks up at me slowly.
His eyes narrow.
I give him my most innocent expression. “Oops.”
He leans in close enough that only I can hear him. “You did that on purpose.”
I clear my throat. “Your father is right there,” I say through gritted teeth.
He glances over his shoulder, and awareness dawns on him. “Oh.”
Behind him, Barron is now only a few steps away.
Porter straightens.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from losing it.
He looks down at the sticky blue mess again. “Damn it.”
Ruby is practically wheezing with laughter now.
Porter glances at her. “Sorry, kid.”
“I’m Ruby,” she says.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ruby.”
His eyes come back to me, and he steps closer, lowering his voice. “You realize,” he murmurs, “you’ll be getting a spanking for that later.”
My face goes hot.
I glare at him.
Before I can respond, Ruby suddenly shrieks, “Daddy!”
She takes off running across the grass like a rocket.
Waylon turns just in time to catch her as she launches herself at him.
He scoops her up easily. “Whoa. Hey there, kiddo.”
Ruby wraps her arms around his neck. “You missed my trail ride!”
“I saw you. You looked like the best cowgirl out there.”
“I was.”
Waylon laughs and sets her on his hip as he walks toward us.
He isn’t alone.
His parents walk beside him.
Barron steps forward, wiping a hand on his slacks before extending it toward Holland Ludlow.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Barron says with a grin. “Didn’t realize you knew the Storms.”
Holland shakes his hand firmly. “Know them? Hell, we’ve been neighbors for decades.”
Della and Priscilla hug like long-lost sisters.
Ruby waves enthusiastically at everyone.
Waylon shifts her higher on his hip. “Small world.”
Barron chuckles. “Apparently so.”
Holland gestures toward Waylon. “And looks like we might be making it even smaller.”
Waylon immediately stiffens. “Pop—”
Holland just grins. “What?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Something we should know?”
Holland nods toward Waylon. “This one here is about to make us family officially.”
Waylon groans under his breath. “Pop.” Then he nods toward Ruby. “Little ears.”
Ruby blinks up at them, completely oblivious.
I stare at Waylon. My chest tightens. “You’re … proposing?”
He gives me a warning look. “Shh.”
My eyes sting anyway. “You jerk. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because,” he says patiently, “I have to wait until Christmas.”
“Why Christmas?”
He grins. “Because Bryce is asking Charli tonight.”
My jaw drops. “Tonight?”
Waylon nods. “It’s his big day. He thought it’d be perfect timing. And I figured I shouldn’t upstage him.”
My heart swells so big that it almost hurts.
Behind us, Barron and Holland have already drifted into a conversation about horse racing.
Barron looks fascinated. “You invested in a thoroughbred recently?”
Holland nods proudly. “Secretariat’s bloodline.”
Holland launches into an enthusiastic explanation about lineage and training prospects.
“And mark my words,” he finishes, “that horse is taking the Triple Crown next year.”
Barron laughs. “That’s a bold prediction.”
Waylon glances down at Ruby. “What do you say we go find Shelby?”
Ruby nods enthusiastically. “And cookies.”
“You just had a snow cone,” I say.
Waylon laughs and carries her off toward the vendor tents.
Barron and Holland wander toward the stables, still deep in horse talk, and Priscilla and Della trail behind them.
And just like that …
It’s quiet.
I turn slowly.
Porter is still standing there.
Covered in blue snow cone.
“Well,” he says, “that escalated quickly.”
I cross my arms. “You were about to kiss me in front of your father. I had to do something.”
He snorts. “Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand.
Before I can protest, he leads me around the side of the ranch house.
The noise fades the farther we walk.
The back porch is shaded and quiet.
Porter stops near the wall of the house.
Then, suddenly, he turns.
And backs me against the siding.
My breath catches.
His hands brace on either side of me.
“You’re trouble, Miss Storm,” he murmurs.
“I saved you.”
“Did you?”
His mouth comes down on mine before I can answer.
The kiss is immediate and fierce. All heat and hunger.
I melt into him without even pretending to resist.
His hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer.
My fingers clutch his ruined shirt.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing harder.
I glance down at the blue stains. “I really did ruin it. I’m sorry.”
He tilts his head. “Apology noted.”
I brush at one of the sticky spots. “This might never come out.”
“Probably not.”
“I feel bad.”
He leans down so his mouth is close to my ear. “The apology doesn’t get you out of that spanking later.”
Heat rushes straight to my face. “I hope not.”
Then his expression softens. “Hey.”
“What?”
“We won’t have to hide much longer.”
My stomach flips. “What do you mean?”
He exhales slowly. “I’m going to tell my father.”
I blink. “What?”
“About us.”
My heart starts pounding.
“And not just him,” he adds. “I’m done sneaking around at work too.”
My pulse races faster. “Porter …”
“I mean it.”
His hand finds mine. “I want this out in the open.”
My mind spins. “That could cause problems.”
“With who?”
“Everyone.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because,” I say quietly, “people are going to think I’m sleeping with the boss to get ahead.”
His jaw tightens. “You know that’s not true.”
“I know. But gossip doesn’t care about truth.”
He studies me.
Then he sighs dramatically. “Well …”
“Well, what?”
He shrugs. “I could always demote you. That would keep the gossip at bay.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
He grins. “I’m thinking you would make a great personal assistant to the general manager.”
I swat his arm. “No way, Mr. Garrison. You’re not making me your beck-and-call girl.”
“Um,” he hums. “That does sound tempting, Miss Storm.”
I glare at him.
He pulls me into another kiss, laughing softly against my mouth.