Dean
It doesn’t take long for Hannah to drift off in my arms, the smell of her shampoo floating around me, grounding me.
I tug a blanket up around her shoulders and pull her closer.
The moment I heard my name, I knew it was him.
Turning around and seeing an older version of my baby brother damn near took me out.
He looked taller, more filled out. He looked like a man.
And it made me feel like shit. The fucker had the audacity to smile at me, like I didn’t blow up his dreams all those years ago.
I pound my fist against my forehead then pull at my hair, looking down to make sure I didn’t wake Hannah.
Closing my eyes, I relive it all like I’m back standing in the gravel parking lot with my little brother staring back at me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I seethe, shoving Owen around and walking us away from Hannah.
“Go home, Owen.”
I memorize his face, not knowing if I’ll ever see him again.
He’s clean shaved, his hair shorter on the sides and longer on top.
He wears a casual white tee and dark jeans, Wrangler boots underneath.
Just like he’s always worn. The memory of his boots beside mine on the porch is like a gut punch when I’m already broken and humiliated.
“Are Mom and Dad ok?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt to barricade my pride.
“Yeah, yeah they’re good. They miss you, too.” I scoff, tossing my head back.
“It’s true! What happened is in the past. You’d know that if you called us back or answered any of our texts!” His voice rises, anger filling the cracks in his voice.
“I changed my number,” I state dryly.
“I know.” He gives me a glare that I try to ignore. Letting out a deep sigh of defeat, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slip of paper. “Please, Dean. It’s in the past.” He shoves it at my chest, but I don't grab it, letting the scrap fall to the ground between us.
As quickly as he appeared, he was gone. I stood there for a long time, reeling at the fact that my baby brother was just here.
Red hot rage fills me, heating me up so quickly I have to shrug off my vest and drop it to the ground next to the paper.
How can he forgive me? How can I forgive myself for holding onto this false idea that my family hates me?
How did I let him walk away? And how will I ever explain to Hannah that she thinks my family is dead when I’ve effectively just cut them out of my life?
Guilt plagues me as I look down at her sleeping face.
I reach into my jeans and pull out the paper Owen threw at me.
His number is written below his name, same as it’s always been.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget those numbers.
But I never typed them in and hit call. Never entered them in and hit save.
Not once, until now. Saving his number, I tuck my phone back in my pocket and look back up to the endless speckles of stars above us.
The paper between my fingers tries to wiggle free when a breeze picks up, and I let it go, watching as the paper swirls away before disappearing into the night.
Hannah shifts beside me, and I pull the blanket up around her shoulder to keep the cool draft off her.
Her stomach presses against my side when she snuggles closer to me.
It’s only a matter of time before I put a baby in you.
My words from our ride together whisper in my mind.
Running a rough hand down my face, I scratch at the overgrown scruff that dusts my chin.
I contemplate if that would really be the worst thing to happen.
Seeing her pregnant with my child has me feeling all sorts of ways.
If that happened, at least she could never be rid of me.
Pushing the thought from my mind, I watch her as she sighs, her lips parting slightly, hair wildly flung around her face.
Fuck her rules. Fuck feeling any sense of guilt for what I’ve done to keep her by my side.
There isn’t a chance in hell she’s getting away from me. Baby or not, she’s mine .
“Dean.” Hannah’s fingers trace over my chin, waking me from a dreamless sleep.
What is there to dream about when you’re holding it in your arms all night?
I pretend to sleep a while longer before I can’t stand the idea of not seeing her face first thing in the morning.
Cracking one eye open, I peek over at her, chin resting on my chest, gazing up at me with a grin on her face.
If I kept her here a while longer, I could count each freckle that dusts her skin.
Those big brown eyes do me under every time I look in them.
“Mornin’, darlin’.” Leaning down, I waste no time dragging her lip between my own.
Her soft sigh against my skin lights a fire that I have no desire to put out.
Rolling her to her back, I tuck a knee between her and push it against her center.
The sun has just popped up behind us, painting the sky in reds and pinks.
Pushing a strand of brown waves behind her ear, I give myself a minute to memorize the way she looks in the first light of day.
When she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, I can’t help but lean down and drag it out with my thumb, then pull it between my lips again, sealing us together.
We’re hungry for each other and waste no time shedding pieces of clothing until we’re left naked under the scratchy wool blanket.
My dick begs me to sink into her, but my heart beats harder to take my time.
Hannah arches under me, rubbing against me.
“Greedy woman,” I rasp before flipping onto my back, hauling her on top of me.
She lands against my length, causing us both to moan in pleasure.
The rising sun sends streaks of light around her silhouette.
“You’re stunning, Hannah.” Her eyes flash to mine and she opens her mouth like she’s about to remind me of her rules, but instead, she licks her lips and rocks over me.
Throwing my arms behind my head, I lean back into them and look up at the curves of the woman on top of me.
“Ride me, baby. Take what you need.” Her pace quickens, soaking my dick in her arousal.
After a few strokes, she plants her hands on my chest, fingers running over my ink in the way that I’ve become so obsessed with before lifting her hips and sinking down over me, slowly taking me in inch by inch.
Her eyes roll back as I stretch and fill her, and I fight my own desire to reach out and grip her hips, focusing on the way her fingers curl into my flesh with each thrust.
“God, Dean,” she moans, her hips moving frantically with her climax.
“Go, baby,” I encourage her, feeling her flutter around me. Gritting my teeth to hold off until she’s reached her high first, I lift my own hips, powering into her, matching her.
“Yes…” Panting, I hiss as her finger nails rake over my abs, her whimpers coming erratic and breathy.
With one final snap of my hips, she shatters around me, throwing her head back with waves of hair catching the light, illuminating the hues of brown and red that streak her curls.
Finally pulling my arms free, I reach out and pull her down on me, running my hands over her back and kissing her sweaty forehead.
We stay like that until the sun becomes too hot, then we silently dress and climb back in the cab of the truck.
I think that’s what I love most about this woman—the effortless way we exist with each other.
We drive in comfortable silence, windows down, music just loud enough for us to get lost in our own thoughts.
Before too long, the arena comes back into view.
Reaching out, I turn the music down and reach over, twisting our hands together.
“Are you doing ok today?” We’ll both be headed to Utah. The anniversary of her parents’ death is this weekend.
Her eyes are clear when she sets them on me.
“Yeah, being with you helps.” Then she leans over, gives me kiss on the cheek, and hops out, walking to her trailer to check on Queen.
I watch her for a while as I load up my trailer, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Pulling it out, there is a text from my agent, Seb.
Don’t forget you’ve got a photoshoot tonight in Utah.
Fuck.
No way. You aren’t backing out. You’ll be there. 6pm. I’ll forward the email…again.
Fuck.
You said that already. Another rider will be there. Behave yourself.
Fuck.
Kasey James, is his name. I gave him your number.
“Oh fuck,” I say aloud this time. My phone vibrates, and an unknown number pops up top.
Well, well, well…looks like we’re friends after all.
Kasey.
I guess the saying is true: those who kill together, stay together.
Fuck.
Is all I type back, then slip my phone back in my pocket.
Walking over to Hannah as she locks up her trailer, I step behind her and pull her against me. Her whole body melts into mine.
“I wish I could see you tonight, but I’ve got something I need to be at.” Turning, she wraps her arms around my waist.
“Don’t worry about it. I had better things to do, anyway.” Her smile turns into a shriek when I smack her ass and whisper in her ear.
“The only thing you’ll be doing, darlin’.
..is me.” Cheeks tinted pink, I lean down and give her a deep kiss, pushing inside and swirling my tongue around hers.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, I walk away, climb in my truck, pull up her location so I can watch her progress to Utah, and start my drive.
Green mountains surround me as I park next to the brick building on the main street of Park City.
People pass outside my truck, window shopping and talking loudly.
Summer in the mountains brings out everyone, dressed in their shorts and tank tops.
Some sport an overly expensive cowboy hat bought from one of the stores that boasts “authentic gear”.
I’d bet big money every single fucker who buys from them doesn’t have an authentic bone in their body.
What’s your ETA Wilder, I’m already inside.
A text from Kasey pops up on my dash, but I swipe it away, focusing on Hannah’s little blue dot.
Not long ago, it stopped moving just outside of Evanston, Wyoming.
I can imagine her parked just outside the border to Utah, like crossing that invisible line will cause her pain.
My fingers itch to send her a text, but trying to figure out how to explain to her how I already have her number, let alone know where she’s at, has my hands breaking out in a panic sweat.
I rub my hands over my thighs a few times, and my phone chimes with another text.
Save me bro.
I check Hannah’s dot one last time. Still hasn’t moved.
Then I shut off my truck and step out into the evening air.
A few women pass in front of me when I reach the sidewalk, and the way they glance back over their shoulders at me has my skin crawling.
I want to growl at them, announce that I’m a taken man.
Instead, I push through the glass door into the modern brick interior.
A blast of cold air hits my face and I shiver at the drastic change in temperature.
“Dean Wilder, pleasure to meet you.” A man not much older than myself comes around a corner, hand outstretched.
His hazel eyes don’t leave mine as we shake hands, and he introduces himself.
“Glen Mitchell.” I nod my head at him and follow as he waves me past the lobby lined with black and white images of rodeo riders.
I slow as I pass one in particular. Brad Wilder .
The small lettering below stops me dead in my tracks.
A younger version of my dad, body bent over a bull that’s got all four feet off the ground.
My dad’s hat caught mid-air above him like the photographer clicked the camera a split second after it flew off my dad’s head.
“I was at that rodeo. Just up the road in Oakley, actually. Man, he could ride.” Glen’s voice is full of admiration.
I wish I had something more meaningful to say in response, but all that comes out is a lame, “Yeah, he was somethin’. ”
“That image is what inspired me to start this company.” Careful not to touch the glass, Glen points his finger at the hat just above my dad.
“I remember watching that hat fly off his head and drop into the dirt. When the buzzer went off, that was the first thing he picked up. He brushed the dust off and put it back in its place on his head.” My chin wobbles with images of the countless times Dad admonished Owen and I for leaving our hats around.
Mindlessly, I reach up and pull the brim of my own black, suede hat tighter on my brow.
I feel Glen's eyes on me, but don’t say anything in return.
“So, I decided that night that I wanted to make something that mattered as much as that hat did to your old man.” He doesn’t press anymore, gratefully, and turns, leading the way into a back room.
The moment Kasey spots me, he rolls his eyes, gesturing at the women around him, patting some form of makeup onto his face.
“I’ll leave you in good hands, but please come to me if you need anything.
We’re honored to have you in the Mitchell family.
” Glen waves a hand at the racks of cowboy hats lining the walls before giving my arm a friendly slap, then he disappears up a set of stairs to what I assume is his office.
A woman grabs my forearm and tugs me to a chair.
It doesn’t take long before I want to roll my eyes as well at the fuss they make over two bronc riders who would rather be anywhere else than covered in makeup modeling hats.
They are some pretty fucking awesome hats, though.
“Do y’all make hats for women?” I ask the lady applying another layer of something on my cheeks. Her fingers tip my chin back to look forward before she answers.
“You bet, they have a whole wall up front.”