Chapter 16
Max: I don’t like it when people touch my things, sweetheart.
She tucked her phone back in her pocket. It was the Fourth of July parade, and they’d spent all week putting together the float for Silo Springs. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Max’s stupidity. He was in Chicago. This was all a mind game to him, just like it had been from the beginning.
Chris drove his F-350 Dually, pulling a trailer that felt like a mile long with Blythe, the girls, and a handful of bunk boys riding on top of hay bales. The bunk boys were as bad as Addie and Evie. She took the girls to the store earlier and picked up three giant bags of throwing candy. She should’ve known who she was dealing with. They were down to their last bag, and the girls were looking up at her with panic in their eyes.
“What if we run out?” Evolette bounced her knees, tears brimming at the thought of riding the rest of the way through the parade empty-handed. Blythe stood and walked over to Toby, who was holding a lapful of Dum Dum suckers.
“Hey, Toby, is there any way you’d sacrifice and give me your stash for the girls? I underestimated everyone's throwing enthusiasm, and Evie is about to be heartbroken…” He smiled up at her and nodded. Toby was the foreman in his mid-twenties, like most of the boys. He was trying out a mustache, like every other guy on planet Earth since Top Gun Maverick came out.
“Thanks…” She patted his shoulder and pulled out the bottom part of her shirt so the guy could fill it up with what candy he had left. She returned to her original hay bale and put on her serious face.
“Now, girls…you’re looking at the bottom of the barrel. We probably have about twenty minutes or so left of this thing, and we want it to last. So, make your throws count, okay?”
They clapped and each took their share of suckers from her shirt apron.
Adelaide embraced her in a hug. “Thank you. And I’ll tell Toby thanks when we stop.”
Blythe gave her a squeeze, and Evie jumped in, too. When they rounded the last corner of the parade route and Chris hit the brakes, everyone cheered. The cowboys leapt off their hay bales and started chest bumping and bro hugging—like they’d just won the Super Bowl or a roping tournament.
“Boys…” Blythe huffed, exaggerating the word and rolling her eyes. Evie broke into a fit of giggles, and Addie flitted off, remembering to thank Toby for sharing. The town of Amber Ridge had a park the size of a football field right in the center, where the yearly picnic would be held afterward. As she helped the girls into the backseat of their daddy’s truck, she drew in a sharp breath.
“The watermelon! I forgot the stinking watermelon!” She dropped her hands to her sides and looked up at the sky, realizing she would need to ask Chris, or find a ride with someone else, to go back and get it.
“I can take you back…” His voice still rippled through her every time she heard it.
Justin was riding his horse in the parade, banners with his brand, Forge Farrier Co, hanging on either side of his favorite palomino. A smile twisted at her lips, and she lifted her arm to shield her face from the sun. She turned and looked up at her man, sitting high on his mount.
Chris popped his head out the driver’s side window and waved them off as Blythe shut the back door, locking the girls inside.
“Ma’am.” Justin tipped his hat—that knee-knocking grin he always wore threatening to make her legs buckle. He reached down, offering his hand to help her up onto his horse. He slipped a boot out of one stirrup so Blythe could mount. She swung a leg up and over, positioning herself behind the saddle and clutching his torso. Her cheek rested on his back, she could hear his heart beating. It was slow, steady, and strong with each thump that echoed in her ear. Her own pulse quickened, and she could’ve sworn if her own heart had arms, it would’ve reached through the barrier between them like a vine and wrapped itself around Justin’s.
When they got to his horse trailer, Justin guided the animal inside and latched the door. Blythe climbed into the passenger seat of his old, red Chevy and started to buckle her belt.
“Woah, woah, woah—what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Justin stood across from her, outside the driver's side door, his arms folded across his chest with an eyebrow quirked in her direction.
“What do you mean?” Her hands flew out as she chuckled.
“ When they built this truck with this bench seat…they did it for a reason.” Unfolding his arms, Justin reached up and rested his palms on the top of the door frame.
“And what reason might that be, cowboy?” She tried to hold in her smirk as one eyebrow stretched up her forehead.
His striking blue eyes danced, and a sly grin appeared on his handsome face. “So people could drive out to the middle of nowhere and…you know, have a little fun.” His teeth bit his bottom lip and his smile got even bigger.
She loved to banter, so she went back at him.
“Should I be scared? You’ve threatened to put me on my back in the bed of this truck, and now you want to drive out to the middle of nowhere…to do what, exactly?”
Justin kept his grin as he lowered his arms and reached on his belly to unlock her seatbelt.
“I want to make one thing clear…when you’re in my truck, you sit in the middle as close to me as you can get. When have I ever let you sit all the way over there?”
Blythe knew he was right, but they’d never been out together in broad daylight, driving around for the world to see. When she sat next to him, she was practically in his lap.
“Won’t we get in trouble? Don’t cops give tickets for riding on top of each other?” she teased.
Justin gripped her thighs with his massive hands, dragging her to him, his voice dipping lower.
“Not when I’m the driver. Benefits of living in a small town where all the cops know your name.”
He moved behind the wheel and closed the door. His hand was still on her thigh, and it started to inch higher.
“Sure you don’t want to go test this seat out? We’ve got time…” The innuendo in his words was so thick, she could almost touch it. She slapped his hand and pressed her forehead to his with a low-key smile on her lips.
“We’ve got watermelon to chop, cowboy.”