Chapter 25
Leni, Baby
Leni
I’m standing by the kitchen sink, staring at my parents’ house, when strong arms wrap around me. Clay’s familiar scent fills me with a sense of rightness, a sense of home. He kisses my neck before looking out the window to follow my gaze.
“You miss them, don’t you?”
I lean back into him, snuggling deeper into his embrace as I sigh. “I do.”
“You could always tell them you’re here, walk over, and surprise the hell out of them.
” He grins, a goofy kind of smile that’s tight around the corners.
He’s joking, but only partly. The part of him that feels responsible for the rift between the family and me is dying a little on the inside. I can see it.
“I will, I mean, I’m expected back for family dinner to meet Tessa, so I have to tell them. I just…I need to do things at my own pace.”
“I know, I respect that. It doesn’t feel right hiding.” He turns me around, one hand caressing my face as his other slips through my waves. “You aren’t something that should ever be hidden.”
I feel my cheeks blush, heart skipping a beat in my chest.
“I want you, however, and wherever you are. If that’s here for the summer, just the two of us, or over in Benson, I’m yours if you want me. There’s no walking away from this, you’re it for me.”
“Clay,” I breathe his name. My hands grip his neck and slide into his hair, swaying us back and forth a bit.
I could certainly get used to this. Get used to Clay coming home to me every night, used to him whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
It’s hard to picture him in an apartment in Benson, but I don’t hate the idea.
I could take him with me. We could start a life out there, together.
The thought sits wrong because there is no separating Clay from this place, not permanently. He’s as much a part of this ranch as I was, and I’m starting to wonder if the two of us ending up back here was inevitable.
“Go get changed. We’re going out.”
“Out?” My eyes widen, excitement pulsing through me. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Clay…I don’t—”
“We’re going somewhere private. No one’s going to see you.” He smiles, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of my nose. “Go grab whatever it is girls need for a date night, and we’ll head out in ten. I’m going to take a quick shower and change my clothes.”
I squeal and race up the stairs, looking through the shelves in the closet for something cute to wear.
I’ve only been dreaming of going out with Clay since I was ten years old.
Now that it’s here and happening, I can barely focus on getting myself ready.
My stomach is a mess of nerves, and my heart feels like it’s fluttering, pumping all kinds of nervous hope and mushy feelings into me.
I decide to keep it casual, since we still haven’t told anyone I’m home.
I assume a restaurant isn’t likely. So I select a pair of jean shorts.
They're light wash stretchy denim that do all kinds of things for my ass. For the top, I pick a lavender corset tank with spaghetti straps. It’s edgy and feminine, with the right amount of see-through material to tease him.
I opt for brown sandals that have a bit of a platform to them, hoping they might help even out our height difference.
Ten minutes isn’t nearly enough to do a full beat and hair, so I swipe on some mascara and glittery eye shadow before separating my thick waves into two sections.
The top gets twisted up into a cute little messy bun.
My curtain bangs are finally coming in clutch to work with me, instead of against me, as they frame my face and make my eyes pop.
I’m swiping on some soft pink lip gloss when Clay emerges from the bathroom.
He’s pulling a forest green t-shirt down his torso.
His abs and deep V cut enough of a tease to send liquid heat straight to my core.
His belt is hanging open off his hips like an unholy invitation to explore exactly what he’s got under those jeans.
Holy shit, my cowboy is hot. He’s in a pair of dark wash Wranglers, the kind that hug his ass and thighs within an inch of their lives.
He’s still wearing socks, but cowboys have a thing about their boots.
They don’t need a million pairs of shoes, only one good pair that they wear with everything.
Because once they’re broken in, they’re basically a part of you.
That’s what this feeling is, when I look at Clay. A well-worn pair of boots that fit just the right way. I never want to try another pair on, because they’d never feel this good, this right.
Clay stops dead in his tracks. He gives up trying to thread his belt through the buckle, his pupils dilating when he looks me over.
Giving a low whistle, he swaggers his way towards me, pulling me to him with a hand on the back of my neck.
It’s possessive, strong, and oh God, I should have worn panties.
I’m going to make a mess of these shorts by the time the night is over.
“Leni.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “Baby.” Another kiss on the other side. “You.” Kiss. “Look.” Kiss. “Edible.” Kiss. The way he says edible is sin personified, his voice dripping with sex and need, that same need vibrating down to my very bones.
“You trying to get me out of this cabin, or into that bed, Cowboy?”
“Both.” He shoots me a wolfish grin before taking my mouth in a knee-buckling kiss.
Clay kisses me like he’s drowning, like he’s been lost at sea, and I’m the first sign of land he’s seen.
Clinging to me like his life depends on it, and I am here for it.
I’d be his life raft any time, if it means being kissed like this.
Like I’m the only person on this planet. Like I’m the only thing he needs.
“Date night first, then?” I giggle, pulling away from him before we end up staying in for the night.
I swipe a new layer of lip gloss on before following him down the stairs.
He keeps a warm palm on the small of my back, and I can’t help but wish we were going out in public tonight.
I’d love to hit up the Rusted Rail and have Clay’s hands all over me, claiming me in front of everyone.
The thought sends a shiver straight through me.
I am so gone for him.
We turn off the highway onto a lease road, and I know exactly where we’re going.
The swimming hole is on our ranch, though it’s usually easiest to get to on horseback.
There aren’t any roads that lead directly there, but there’s a well-worn path from the lease road, thanks to the countless parties we had out here growing up.
I can barely contain my grin when we stop at the head of that path, Clay getting out to open my door.
He surprises me when he opens the back door and pulls out a picnic basket, like an honest-to-God, wicker picnic basket.
He also has a reusable shopping bag that looks like it’s filled to the brim with supplies.
“Clayton Traeger, did you—did you plan an actual date for us?”
The tips of his cheeks are pink, but he gives me a little head dip.
He shuffles the bags off to one side and offers me his hand.
I take it, interlacing our fingers as we walk the quarter mile inland to our private swimming hole.
It’s not a natural spot. Mercer and Ethan got tired of having to drive all the way to the lake or into town to swim.
So they’d taken the tractor and skid steer into the field and dug our very own swimming hole.
They’d neglected to ask dad’s permission, but he’d been pleasantly surprised by how well it had turned out.
Of course, he had to punish them for the insanely high water bill they’d accrued trying to fill it.
They’d spent that summer rerouting the fences around the swimming hole so we didn’t have to worry about cows and manure dirtying up the water.
I’ve seen my parents drive down with their side-by-side to sit by the water many nice summer evenings.
The swimming hole was very well thought out, actually.
There’s a gradual incline that leads into the deeper parts, making it perfect for littles, but also fun enough for the teenage boys who dug it.
Brooks built a little dock in the deep end, and I can’t be sure, but I’m fairly certain they get it stocked with fish every year so they can come down and fish.
Toby commandeered an old telephone pole that the boys stuck into the ground at an angle.
He built a little platform and hung a rope swing that will fling you off into the deep.
There’s a natural little grove of trees that surrounds it, and it’s honestly one of my favorite places in the world.
Clayton lays out a blanket near the shallow end, setting out a couple of towels as well.
Opening the picnic basket, he sets out plates, like actual ceramic plates, two wine glasses, a bottle of Moscato, and a full-blown meal.
There are sandwiches from Winnie’s, a cute little cafe in town that shares my mother’s belief that sandwiches do not have to be boring.
There’s a little tub of potato salad and some chocolate-covered strawberries.
I don’t even know where he would have gotten them, but I don’t care.
This is the nicest, most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.
I sit down on the blanket, crossing my legs as I take the glass of wine he offers me. It’s sweet and fizzy, and exactly what I like. “Clay, this is…” I look away from him, out over the water as emotion threatens to take me. “It’s too much,” I whisper.
“This is the bare minimum. You deserve so much more than a little picnic at the swimming hole. It’s a start, though. The first of many dates that I intend to take you on.”
I turn back to look at him, and I can practically feel the stars in my eyes. This is perfect. Reaching up to cup his cheek, I pull him into me, hoping I can convey all the love and gratitude I’m feeling in this kiss.