28-VINCENT
Reagan was here, curled in front of me, in my bed.
Every cell in my body moved differently around her, and it took everything in me not to pull her in tighter.
I had barely dozed off before my alarm quietly chimed behind me.
I wish I could hit snooze and stay here with her.
But horses weren’t going to feed themselves or let themselves out, and it would be shitty to make the others take on my load.
Without the business running today, everyone helped with the daily tasks to make the workday go more smoothly.
I quietly weaved my arm from under her, and she lay there like I didn’t even touch her.
I gave her a soft kiss on her face before rolling away.
Taking the room upstairs was brutal on my legs after a long day, but it gave me access to my own shower whenever I pleased.
It would definitely benefit Reagan until my home was finished.
The water was cool as it hit my skin, then slowly warmed. I rinse my face as the water beads across my chest. I should be thinking about the day. Fences that need fixing, what horses need, and that developer circling the property like a vulture.
But I’m not. Life’s gotten too personal lately.
Jori’s showing up resurfaced some feelings that I had buried deep in my soul.
She was part of the past I didn’t want to talk about.
She showed me how loving the wrong person can hollow you out and how long it can take to stop wanting someone who never came back.
Until now, I didn’t want her, I wanted answers.
Even then, I didn’t care that much. I wasn’t as pissed off as I was three years ago.
My palms ran over my arms revealing the ten-digit number woven through my tattoos, and my lip tugged thinking of her in my bed.
She’s still legally married—to Tate, that mess of a man. I let out an exhale as the water rolled down me. I’m not naive. I know how rebounds work. They cling to you when they’re drowning, and I’ve been there before.
But Reagan doesn’t feel like panic. She doesn’t make me feel like I’m an escape plan. Maybe that’s what scares me. It’s been far too long since wanting someone felt like more than a thrill for a few weeks.
I brace one hand on the tile, head bowed, and my gaze relaxed. She’s still curled up in my bed, and I think of her smile from earlier this morning. Tired but resilient after everything she’s been through.
I can’t help but grab my dick as it hardens at the reminder of her hand on my thigh, even more so when I picture the last time I was with her.
Bare and on top of me in the bed of my truck.
Exposed to the lightning around us and how it flashes across her body.
I focus on the way her body moved against mine.
Her lips parted, her tits bouncing up and down, and how I could actually feel her body clamp down on my cock when she reached orgasm.
I think of bending her over my saddle in the tack room.
Her chest pressed against the seat and the smell of her pussy mixed with leather piqued my curiosity.
I would bet all one hundred and eight acres it’s heaven sent.
I think of the sunset glow casting the perfect shadow across her bare skin next to the pond as she rides me again.
Her moans mixed with the chirps and croaks of nature—I want to see what that is like.
The tension builds until it’s unbearable. I tighten my fingers as it crests and breaks. I keep the water running over me, rinsing me off until my pulse slows.
The shower curtain sways to the side before I step out. The steam in the bathroom is thick, but my mind is clear and quiet now. With my towel in my grip, I begin drying off. Knowing one thing is certain—I can’t ignore what’s going on between Reagan and me. I don’t want to.
The smell of coffee is a blessing as my bedroom door gingerly hits the frame behind me.
The clinks of silverware from my mom echo up the stairs as she quietly hums in the kitchen.
I hit the bottom of the stairs, and her back is to me while she stands at the sink, washing the few dishes from her breakfast. The soft kitchen lights are on as darkness still clings to the windows.
“Good morning, Mama.” I greet her.
“Morning.” She barely turns to me. “You got in late. Everything all right?”
“In the end, yes.” I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell her of my newly tainted record for assault besides just spilling it. “Uh, I may have gotten arrested.”
The water shuts off, and she spins to me. “Vincent Dean Hawthorne, you better be messing with me.”
I step towards her, “Sorry, Mama.” I press my lips to her head and reach for a mug off the drying rack for my coffee. “I’m not messing with you.”
“There better be a damn good reason.” She tosses her hip into the edge of the counter with her arms folded.
I grabbed the hot pot of coffee and filled my cup.
“Reagan called. Her ex was drunk and wouldn’t leave.
Cops wouldn’t do much because his name was on the lease.
He kept pushing me to the breaking point and wouldn’t keep his hands off me.
” She listened, waiting for an explanation.
“The cops pulled up when I was on top of him, and I’ll admit, I might have overreacted, but he had said something that pissed me off.
Seeing Jori a few days ago didn’t help either. ”
“You got arrested for fighting someone’s ex?”
I was not about to throw in the fact that she was still married to him. “Yeah. I did. Sorry, Mama.”
“Now I want to know who this girl is that’s got you running off in the night and going as far as getting arrested for.”
“You’ll get to know her real soon,” I smirk.
Her face falls flat. “Why are you smiling?”
“She’s upstairs.” I take a small sip to test the coffee’s temperature.
“Vincent, do you really like her or are you playing the hero?”
I shake my head. “No. I like her. Obviously enough to fight her ex and drag her back here.”
She turns to pick up the wet rag, wring it out, and run it over the counters. “Yeah, well that’s not what I'm worried about.”
Vance’s door pops open. As he appears in the kitchen, my mother pushes her lips back in a straight line of not quite disapproval, but the look that there’s something going on. And then looks at me before returning to her work.
“What’s going on?” He asks.
I didn’t care what my brother thought and blurted it out. “I got arrested last night for fighting.”
He forces me to repeat myself as he gets his personal mug. “Who were you fighting?”
“This girl’s ex-husband.”
“I didn’t even know you were seeing anybody.”
“Yeah, well, I guess this year, I kept chasing the girl outside the event. She only lives about an hour from here. In fact, she’s upstairs right now.”
“What?”
“Yeah, she didn’t feel comfortable with the chance that her ex might come back, so I brought her home.”
He lets out a chuckle and slides in across from me at the kitchen table. “You’re something else, man.”
“Mom, was there anything else about the developer?”
“No. Part of me thinks Mark wants to sell, though.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He mentioned after you left that if it was a higher price, he would consider it.” She fans out the rag over the sink edge and turns to us. “Anyway, chores are calling. It’s Sunday, and many hands create light work. The sooner we get out there, the better.”
“I’m right behind you, Mom.” I throw back the rest of my black coffee.
Vance pulls out his phone to check the football game schedule later today. “I’ll catch up.”
I rinse my mug and follow after Mom, who has already made her way off the porch. “Mom!”
Her feet turn and stop as I bounce off the porch.
“I still wanted to talk to you about that.” She slows her pace to buy time. “You think Mark would really sell?”
“Well, it’s not all up to him, but grandpa is getting old, our family is thinning out, and I’m worried it won’t take much to convince everyone, especially for a decent price.”
“We make good money here. Our roots are deep in the community. I can’t see why he would want to sell.”
Mom unlatches the door to the chicken run, propping the door open enough to let the girls free for the day. “I’m on your side, Vin. But part of me worries that Mark is ready to retire.”
I grab a bucket and begin filling it with feed to pour into the hens’ feeders. “Mom, I don’t have much, but maybe I could get a loan. I don’t want to sell. I could take over.”
“Might be worth bringing up.” She gently sets the last of the eggs into a bucket.
“Really? You think Mark would go for that?”
“You’re almost done building a house on the property. I would say you’re committed to the ranch. Even after your dad passed, you’ve kept up with work and the lifestyle. We could bring it up at lunch today.”
A chicken squawks in fear as I drop the food bin lid back into place, kicking up dust in the run. “You think so, this soon?”
“There’s no time like the present, son. Might help keep you out of trouble as well.”
“Alright, I’ll give it some thought.”
Mom double-checks the waterers and grabs the bucket of eggs. “I’ll be in your corner either way. I’ll tell you, Mark’s going to want you to quit the Hotshots though.”
“Well, I’m hoping Reagan can keep me entertained enough, so I don’t go stir crazy by spring.”
“Vincent,” She sighed without looking at me. Her tone was enough to give me a warning.
“You know I don’t mean it like that. Well, not all of it.”
“Alright,” She stood outside the entryway. “Anything else you want to talk about?”
“Not right now, thanks, Mom.”