CHAPTER 1 LAYLA
“I’ve gone my whole life thinking I couldn’t draw, let alone paint.” Gretta squeezes my shoulder as pride fills her voice, her goat painting held out in front of her.
“I’m so proud of you.” Smiling back, my soul warms as the happy group heads out of my private paint night class. “Thanks for booking with me.”
“Layla,” another middle-aged woman stops me as I gather my art belongings. “I need to hire you for my fiftieth birthday next month. I had the best time.”
My schedule is full, but more work, more money… which I desperately need as an eighteen-year-old wanting to live on my own. “Give me a call this week, and I’ll see where I can fit you in.”
She thanks me, and the ladies shuffle out as quietness settles around the studio space.
My usual excuses to be out of the house are enjoying game night with the Hayes’, horseback riding with my bestie, or hosting paint nights.
But my best friend, Karli, is out with her boyfriend, and I haven’t heard from her older brother since yesterday.
According to social media, it’s his friend’s birthday and they’re going out.
Home is anything but quiet, and I’d rather sleep elsewhere.
Hell, the couch in the town hall’s library would be void of a blaring TV or my parent’s fighting.
Neither parent would open my door to bitch about the other after midnight.
If I curled up and sank into the soft leather couch in the lobby, I’d enjoy a full night's sleep. This place doesn’t hold the unpredictability when my father is in his usual drunken rage.
No. My gut sinks. I can’t get caught sleeping here. It’s unprofessional, no matter how much I hate being at home.
The night air whooshes around me as I lock up. Turning around, the front steps lead the way as darkness is about to swallow the town. Headlights across the street capture my attention, and my lungs squeeze.
He’s here.
Stetson Hayes leans against his old Suburban. His arms crossed until the moment I notice him. His plain shirt and rodeo belt buckle never fail to send a tingle between my legs. An inevitable smile stretches across my face as he crosses the street, meeting me halfway.
“I don’t believe I’m part of guys’ night,” I say as he reaches for my art bag, slinging it effortlessly over his shoulder.
“You’re the better part of my night.”
My neck cranes, looking up at him with stars in my eyes as we head to his car.
“Guys were getting sloshed, and I’d rather hang with my girl.” He winks, opening the door for me.
My girl.
Those two simple words send heat to my face as giddiness bubbles inside me.
We’ve been nothing short of secret moments, stolen kisses, and hanging out under the radar the last couple of months. A bull riding injury had bottomed my stomach out, but thankfully he walked away with only a sprained wrist.
“Thanks for the ride.” It’s rare to get alone time with him, and tonight, Karli is more than occupied to wonder what I'm doing.
“Always down for an opportunity to spend with you.” He gently clasps his large hand around my thigh as he drives.
Now if only he moves it higher...
“Layla?” Stetson breaks my daydream with a subtle smirk, knowing his effect on me. “How was paint night?”
Pull yourself together, Layla.
“Seeing people’s eyes hold that spark of accomplishment by the end of the class was something special.” I smile. “I’m booked almost two months out for paint nights, and I had a few commissions come in this week.”
“With this steady traction, you’ll be renting your own place soon.” Stetson gives my thigh another squeeze, not knowing how bad nights can get at home. How much I long to have my own place for more than art. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
There’s a safe security in his compliments that warms me.
“Thanks for believing in me.”
“Always, Sweet Girl.” And there he goes with the childhood nickname.
“Sweet?” It’s not like I’ve been sweet since he’s returned home.
“Okay, you’ve hit me with a dose of spice since we’ve started hanging out.” His thumb rubs back and forth on my outer thigh.
I need release pronto. Not that we’ve gone far. Timing hasn’t been on our side.
Stetson and I have collected countless late-night chats in his family’s living room.
I don’t remember half of what we talked about the first few nights.
All I remember is his grey sweatpants and the way his abs looked in the reflection of the TV light.
He listened and cared about my day. Made me laugh harder than anyone could, and for the first time, he hadn’t treated me like his little sister’s best friend.
“Did you really leave Parker’s birthday to see me?”
“Like I said, everyone was getting wasted, and that’s not my scene.” He shrugs. “They probably won’t even remember most of tonight anyway.” His calloused hand laces with mine, and we set off under the West Texas sky. “Tell me more about your night.”
“The ladies realized painting a goat wasn’t as difficult when I showed them how to use the grid method.” Painting has been a sanctuary for me, and hosting paint night parties has helped bring the community together.
“I love how you've made a career out of your passion.”
This man.
“Back at ya, Mr. I Ride Bulls For A Living.” But his is anything but relaxing.
“Layla, your passion gives back. Your art makes people feel.” Stetson smiles, my heart nearly bursting. “People trust you enough to commission portraits of their beloved animals.” Pausing, he looks out at the setting sun. “The love you put into what you do is admirable.”
Falling this hard for my best friend’s brother is dangerous – his is future is up in the air.
I’m thankful for the memories we’ve made over his time back home.
An unsettling feeling that we aren’t even dating hits me.
I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Once the doctors clear him, he’ll be right back out there on the circuit.
But no matter how this ends, he’ll take part of me with him.
“What’s tonight's adventure?” I ask, changing the subject.
“A surprise.” He turns into the driveway but veers off with a smile that I match. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
Once he parks at the ridge of his family’s property, Stetson opens his door, and I hop out.
I’m too eager to wait for him to open mine.
Following him to the back, he opens the liftgate door.
The third-row bench is removed, replaced by a mattress with cozy blankets and pillows.
A little cooler is off to the side, and fairy string lights hang, waiting to be brought to life.
“Are we…camping?” Finally, a night with no worries about someone catching me straddling him during a heated make-out session at two in the morning.
This sounds fan-fucking-tastic.
“We haven’t star-gazed in years,” he says, and I can see the thought he put into this. It was a regular occurrence to lie on the trampoline until we were told it was past bedtime.
“It’s perfect, Stetson.” Taking his hand, he helps me climb into the back, and I remove my flip-flops.
“This time, it’s a cozier setting.” He kicks off his shoes and climbs in with me. “Though, the string lights might interfere with seeing the stars.”
“Agreed, but they’re cute.” And romantic... My stomach growls, which is anything but. “Did you bring snacks?”
“I picked out something special from the bakery.” With a grin, he reaches into the cooler. A plastic container of chocolate-covered strawberries greets me, and my mouth pops open with an excited gasp. “I was hoping that would be your reaction.”
“The most perfect night of my life,” I say with a sigh. He holds the strawberry to my mouth. “Mmm.” Sweet fruit lights up my senses, and I can’t help but moan. “Delicious.”
There’s heat in his gaze that sends an electric current straight to my clit.
“Hearing you moan over food makes me want to make a living out of feeding you.”
“Definitely time for a career shift.” I giggle, but to be honest, there’s a hell of a lot of truth behind it. Everyone seems to be steering clear of his return to rodeo.
“I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t crossed my mind, Sweet Girl.”
His confession has my heart stuttering.
Am I the reason he’s considered it?
“Well, as you rank higher, the bulls won’t get nicer…”
The livestream of him stuck, flopping around like a ragdoll by the arm, still haunts me. “I’m worried one day it’ll be more than a sprained wrist.”
He shifts, his hands cupping my face. “It’s dangerous, I know. But I’ve been doing this for so many years. If I never go pro and win that world championship”—he swallows roughly—“it would all be a waste.”
He’s damn good at what he does and has invested a lot into it. His dream is something I won't try to stop. Not when he believes in mine so strongly.
“I know.” It comes out more of a whisper, wanting to forget this conversation happened. Not wanting to think about when he eventually leaves. I lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
“Rodeo won’t be for the rest of my life.” Stetson settles into the mattress, pulling me closer. My head lays on his chest while his hand rests on my hip. “This right here is my home.”
“This space might be a little claustrophobic for a man your size,” I tease as I glance around the Suburban.
“I mean ending every night with you,” he says, more seriously, and my stomach flips. We aren’t even dating. At twenty-one and always on the road, he hasn't even moved out of his parents’ ranch house. “Though a house sounds more enjoyable for us.”
Us? The word sits on the tip of my tongue. My mouth goes dry, unable speak.
Are we evolving from more than fooling around? It’s been agreed upon that we keep this quiet. Working hard not to let looks linger or stolen kisses carry on longer than a moment. I’ve taken what I can get, but hope is a dangerous thing.
His stubble prickles my palm as I hold his face.
Stetson takes the lead, bringing his lips back to mine.
A familiar wave crashes through my core.
My body melts against him as breathy moans cut through the silence.
It’s the only permission Stetson needs before his hand brushes up my leg and under my dress to grip my hip.
“More,” I whimper into the kiss.
He grabs under my thigh and pulls me over to straddle him. We’ve waited too long for this moment. His thick muscles under my fingertips has me aching to feel more of him. His jeans restrict his erection, but I take what I need, grinding myself against him.
“Layla,” Stetson rasps, the moonlight hitting his jaw perfectly. “If you want to stop…”
Time slows with every silent second. With my heart beating loud in my ears, no decision has been clearer.
This isn’t the first time we’ve dry humped, usually resulting with us finishing clothed.
Now, with nothing but time and privacy on our side, I can wholeheartedly be in the moment. Stopping isn’t on my agenda.
“My turn to surprise you.” Boldly, I lift my dress over my head, revealing myself. “I want this. All of it, Stetson.” With my purse within reach, I lean over retrieving the condom that’s been hiding there the past couple weeks. “Every inch of you.”
Stetson swallows roughly, taking in my bare chest. “You’re beautiful.” His hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me down for a slow, toe-curling kiss. Flipping us, he searches for an ounce of hesitation.
“I’m yours,” I tell him softly as his hand feathers down my cheek, over my collarbone, and my stomach flutters once again as he lightly trails down my side. “Touch me.”
His hand reaches my hip, slipping his hand under the waistband of my panties. No one has ever touched me there.
“Your pussy’s so wet, Layla,” Stetson hisses while gently brushing his finger through my wet opening and back up to my clit, making my breath hitch. The sensation sparks through me like it’s awaited his touch for an eternity.
“Always for you, Stetson.” I’m addicted.
He does it again, this time circling at the top. My legs spread wider. It’s nothing like grinding against him.
Our bodies speak as our breathing syncs.
I’ve imagined intimacy with Stetson many times, but the present moment, our limbs tangled is no comparison.
His fingers change from slow to vigorous as he massages me just right, my body locking and convulsing as I come with his name on my lips.
All tension within releases as my hand reaches for his neck to pull him in for a kiss.
“More,” I breathe, my hands fiddling to remove his shirt.
“I’m so lucky to spend this evening with you.” Stetson gazes down at me, taking off his t-shirt, abs on full display.
“Wow.” Seeing him shirtless around the ranch is one thing, but hovering above with the pleasure he’s giving me? A whole other level.
“Touch me again.”
He doesn’t waste a second, slowly sliding his finger inside, and I gasp.
“Feel good, baby?”
I nod as he adds a second finger. The pinch mixed with neck kisses relaxes me.
“Be my first, Stetson.” He stills as the words leave my mouth.