Chapter 24 #2
"Your mom never took you trail riding?" I ask, guiding Bucky around a fallen log. He keeps one eye on it and turns his head in as we go around, like he's expecting it to rise up and chase him.
"Mom doesn't do anything that isn't productive," Kinsley says, and there's no judgment in her voice—just the matter-of-fact. "Every ride has a purpose; every training session moves toward a goal. This..."
She gestures around us, taking in the endless vista of wilderness that doesn't care about our schedules or our ambitions. "This doesn't produce anything measurable," she finishes.
"Doesn't it?" I ask, watching the way her face has softened, the way her whole body seems to be breathing deeper. "Look at your horse."
She glances down at Ace, really seeing him for the first time since we started riding. His head is low and relaxed, moving with the kind of loose-jointed ease that comes from being exactly where he wants to be.
"He's happy," she says, wonder creeping into her voice.
"You look pretty happy yourself." I lean forward to pat the colt's neck.
Kinsley smiles. “I am.”
We ride in comfortable silence. Minutes later, the meadow comes into view—alpine grass that glows gold in the slanted light, wildflowers scattered like colored stars, the kind of view that makes you believe in God.
"Oh my," Kinsley breathes, pulling Ace to a stop beside me. "This is incredible."
"One of my favorite spots on the ranch," I tell her, swinging down from the colt's back and loosening his cinch as she hops off Ace.
I tie both horses to a stunted pine with enough slack that they can graze, then retrieve the saddlebags I packed. The picnic isn't fancy—sandwiches, fruit, a thermos—but it's the thought that counts.
And the location. Definitely the location.
"This is very romantic of you, cowboy." She helps me spread out the checkered blanket.
"Figured if I'm going to be gone for a few weeks, I better give you something worth missing." I admit, settling onto the blanket and patting the space beside me.
The sun's getting lower, painting everything in shades of gold and rose that make her look like something from a dream.
"How long will you be gone?" she asks, accepting the sandwich I offer.
"At least three weeks." The timeline sits heavy between us. "Depends on how the rides go, whether I can stay healthy.”
Rodeo life doesn't leave room for much else—always moving. It's not easy on a relationship, and not fair to someone who deserves more than whatever's left of me between rides.
"I could fly out to see you," she says, her voice carefully casual. "If you want."
Want? Want doesn't begin to cover the ache in my chest when I think about leaving her.
"I want you to," I say, reaching for her hand and threading our fingers together.
"We never finished our conversation in Jackson Hole about you being my girl," I say, reaching into my pocket for the small black box that's been burning a hole there all afternoon.
Kinsley's eyes widen.
I set it on the blanket between us, the velvet surface dark against the faded fabric. "Kinsley Ford, will you be my girl?"
"Wyatt..." She looks up at me with a thousand questions in her eyes. The box is too big to be a ring box, so I know she’s not about to go running for the hills. She knows I’m crazy, but I’m not that crazy.
"Just open it," I say.
She lifts the lid with trembling fingers, and I watch her face transform as she takes in what's inside. The necklace is simple but elegant—three turquoise stones set in silver, each one the color of summer sky.
"Wyatt," she whispers, lifting the necklace. "This is incredible. Where did you get this?"
"Had it custom-made," I admit, feeling heat creep up my neck. "There's a silversmith in Utah, goes by The Silver J. I described what I wanted, and she made it special."
What I don't tell her is how I spent half an hour describing the exact shade of her eyes to a woman I'd never met like an idiot. "So, you won’t forget me," I add, the words coming out quieter.
“I should be giving you something—you’re the one with crazy fans falling all over you.” She sighs. “Speaking of…I saw some more photos online of you and your number one buckle bunny.”
Frustration strikes like lightning, but it’s gone in an instant. I’m not going to let anything ruin this moment. I exhale and smile. “Trust me, there’s nothing to worry about. My grandpa always says, ‘why go out for hamburger when you got steak at home?’”
Kinsley snorts, amusement brimming in her blue eyes. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“The biggest.” I push my hat back and scratch at my forehead. “Especially coming from Grandpa.”
"Well then, thank you, for the compliment and for the necklace. It's incredible." she says, her voice thick with emotion. "Help me put it on?"
I move behind her on the blanket, and she gathers her hair to one side.
My fingers brush her skin as I work the clasp, and the contact sends electricity shooting through my veins.
She's warm and soft and real beneath my hands, and for a moment I forget about everything except the way she feels, the way she leans back slightly into my touch like she can't help herself.
I can't resist pressing my lips to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, tasting the salt and sweetness of her skin. “Is that a yes?” I ask.
She shivers at the contact. When she turns her head, our mouths are inches apart, and the want in her blue eyes mirrors everything I'm feeling. “Yes,” she whispers.
The kiss is soft at first, then deeper as she turns in my arms to face me properly.
Her hands find my jaw, while I memorize the taste of her, the way she fits against me like she was made for this moment.
The world narrows to nothing but her warmth, her breath, the way she says my name against my lips.
"Gorgeous," I murmur, my voice rougher than it should be as I lean back to take in the necklace against her skin. It's exactly as I'd pictured it. The turquoise stones rest perfectly against the hollow of her throat.
She reaches up to touch the necklace, her fingers tracing the silver work. "It's perfect," she whispers. "Thank you."
The gratitude in her voice is real, but underneath it I hear something else—surprise, maybe, like she's not used to receiving gifts. The thought makes me want to spoil her forever.
"Jessica's coming to stay with me while you're gone," she says, apparently needing to fill the silence before it becomes something neither of us is ready for. "Couple days, anyway. She thinks I need distraction."
The mention of her best friend makes me smile. "Smart woman. Though I'm not sure anyone could distract you when you've got your mind set on something."
"We'll see." Her fingers are still playing with the necklace, and I watch the movement like a man hypnotized. "She's bringing chocolate and terrible movies and enough gossip to keep me entertained for a week."
"Sounds perfect." I lean back on my elbows, studying her profile as she looks out over the valley.
"What's your schedule look like?" she asks, turning back to me.
"Flying to Washington tomorrow morning, then it's a blur of venues for the next couple weeks.
" The reality of it sits heavy in my chest—airports and hotel rooms and the kind of loneliness that comes from being surrounded by people who know your name but not your heart.
"Spokane, then up to Calgary, and then back again.
I wish you could come with me," I confess.
Her smile is soft. "Me too. But there's too much to do in the next three and a half weeks."
The temperature drops as the sun disappears behind the peaks, and Kinsley shivers beside me. I pull her closer, tucking her against my side where she fits just right.
"We should head back," I say reluctantly, though every instinct I have is screaming at me to find a way to make this moment last forever. "Gets cold fast up here once the sun goes down."
"Five more minutes," she says, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "Please."
Five more minutes turns into ten, then fifteen, as we sit wrapped in each other's warmth while the stars emerge one by one in the darkening sky. The colt shifts restlessly nearby.
"Time to go." I say finally, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
We reluctantly pack up the picnic. The horses are eager to move, sensing the change in temperature and the promise of warm stalls and hay waiting at home.
By the time we reach the cottage, full darkness has settled over the valley like a blanket. Lights glow warm and yellow in the windows of the main house, and a silhouette—probably Mom—moves around in the kitchen.
Home. This is home, in a way it's never been before.
"Thank you," Kinsley says as we pull the horses to a stop beside the cottage. "For tonight. For the necklace."
"Thank you for letting me," I reply, swinging down from the colt's back and moving to help her dismount. She doesn't need the assistance, but I need the excuse to touch her, to hold her for just a moment longer.
Her hands rest on my shoulders as I lift her down from Ace’s back, and for a heartbeat we stand frozen in each other’s space, starlight reflected in her eyes.
I frame her face with my hands, taking a moment to memorize every detail—the way the moonlight catches in her eyes, the soft curve of her mouth, the way she's looking at me like I'm her entire world. I lean down slowly, savoring the anticipation, the way her breath catches as our lips finally meet.
She sighs into me, her hands sliding down to grab my belt loops, holding on like she's anchoring herself to me. I don't ever want her to let go. I've never struggled to leave the ranch before, and I wouldn't if I could pack her up and take her with me.
"You're changing me," I whisper against her lips, unable to pull away even for the words.
Her smile brushes against my mouth, and I can't help but trace a line of kisses along her jaw, tasting the sweetness of her skin.
My lips find the silver chain at her throat, pressing gentle kisses against the turquoise stones that rest there, and she shivers beneath my touch, her grip on my belt loops tightening.
"Wyatt," she breathes, and the sound of my name on her lips makes something fierce unfurl in my chest.
I trail kisses up to her temple, holding her so close I can feel every curve of her body against mine, my hand sliding down her back to pull her nearer. She responds molding her body to me like we're dancing a slow two-step of mouths and hands and whispered breaths.
Every kiss carries the weight of goodbye, the need to memorize each other before distance steals these moments away.
Three weeks have never seemed so impossibly long.