Chapter 6
Dustin
Watching Vanessa had gone from nervous city girl to someone who moved around Thunder like she'd been doing it her whole life. Her shoulders had relaxed, the control she usually wore like armor had melted away, and she was laughing at the way Thunder kept trying to investigate her pockets.
He was falling harder with every passing second. And getting harder watching her move in those jeans.
"She's got good instincts," Beth had commented earlier, watching Vanessa walk Thunder through his paces. "Most people either freeze up or try to muscle the horse around. She's listening to him. She's just... there with him"
Just there with him. That described a lot of things about Vanessa that had been messing with his head since she'd agreed to rent to him.
The way she made coffee for both of them in the mornings without being asked.
How she'd started leaving job rejection emails open on her laptop like she needed someone to witness her disappointment.
The fact that she'd changed out of her business clothes to come meet his horse without complaining about barn dirt or the smell of hay.
The way she fit into his life like she'd always been there.
Right now she was standing in the middle of the arena with Thunder's lead rope in her hands, talking to the horse like he was listening to every word. Which he probably was. Thunder had always been a good judge of character, and apparently he'd decided Vanessa was worth paying attention to.
His horse had better taste than half the people Dustin had ever met.
"He likes me better than he likes you," she called out to where Dustin was leaning against the fence rail.
"Don't let it go to your head. He likes anyone who brings carrots."
"I didn't bring carrots."
"No, but you're not asking him to work for a living either."
She walked Thunder over to where he was standing, and he noticed she'd picked up the easy confidence that came with handling large animals. No sudden movements, no nervousness, just competence that made horses relax around humans.
Just like everything else about her. Competent and beautiful and so far out of his league he should have walked away a week ago.
Except he wouldn't. Not when she was looking at him like he'd just given her a gift.
"This is what you do?" she asked, handing him the lead rope. Her fingers brushed his, and the contact sent electricity up his arm. "Travel around the country competing with him?"
"More or less. We load up in the truck, drive to wherever the next rodeo is, see if we can stay on long enough to win some money."
"It sounds..." She paused, like she was trying to find the right words. "Like a lot of driving."
He laughed. "Yeah. A lot of driving, a lot of motels, a lot of truck stop coffee that tastes like battery acid."
"Do you ever get tired of it?"
The question landed differently than he'd expected. Not accusatory, just curious. Like she genuinely wanted to understand what kept him moving.
"Sometimes," he admitted. "But it's what I know. What I'm good at."
"That's not the same as what you want, though."
Thunder nudged his shoulder, impatient with standing still when there were more interesting things to do. Dustin led the horse back toward the barn, acutely aware of Vanessa walking beside him. Her presence felt solid and real in a way that made everything else feel temporary by comparison.
In a way that made temporary feel like the worst thing in the world.
"What about you?" he asked as they arrived at Thunder's stall. "You always wanted the corporate job, the house, all of it?"
"I wanted security." She leaned against the stall door, watching him work. "My parents split up when I was twelve. They fought constantly about money before that. I remember lying in bed listening to them argue about which bills they could afford to pay. Which ones they'd have to skip."
He settled Thunder in his stall, checking his water and making sure he had enough hay for the evening. The memory in her voice made him move slower, giving her space to talk if she wanted to.
"I swore I'd never live like that," she continued. "Never be in a position where I couldn't take care of myself. So I got the degree, got the good job, bought the house. Made myself financially independent."
"And then the economy went to hell."
"And then the economy went to hell." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Turns out you can do everything right and still end up three weeks behind on your mortgage."
Three weeks behind. The confirmation of what he'd suspected made his stomach twist. She'd taken him in when she was already drowning, trusted him with rent money she desperately needed.
"Vanessa."
She looked up at him, and he saw the vulnerability she'd been hiding behind her composure. The fear that she was going to lose everything she'd worked for.
"Yeah?"
"You're going to figure this out. You're too stubborn not to."
"Stubborn." She laughed, but it sounded more genuine this time. "That's one word for it."
"Determined. Resilient. Take your pick." He moved closer, drawn by the afternoon light catching in her hair, by the way she was looking at him. "You're still standing, aren't you? Still fighting. That counts for something."
"Does it?"
"It does to me."
The late afternoon sun was slanting through the barn windows, casting everything in golden light that made her hair gleam and her skin glow. She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. She was brave and stubborn and real in ways that made him want things he'd never let himself want before.
Made him want to stay somewhere long enough to see what could grow between them if he stopped running and she stopped being afraid.
Made him want to be the kind of man who deserved her.
"Dustin."
Her voice was different, lower, with a breathiness that made every nerve in his body come alive. She was looking at him like she was seeing him for the first time, like the afternoon had changed the space between them in ways that couldn't be reversed.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For bringing me here, for letting me meet Thunder. For..." She gestured vaguely, encompassing the barn and the horses and the world he'd introduced her to. "For today."
"Thank you for coming with me."
They were standing close enough that he could smell her perfume mixed with hay and horse and the scent of her skin. Close enough that when she looked up at him, he could see her eyes, the way her lips parted slightly.
Close enough that when she rose up on her toes and kissed him, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Like this was what they'd been moving toward since the moment they'd met.
Her lips were soft and tentative at first, like she was testing his reaction, giving him a chance to pull away if this was a mistake. Instead, he slid his hands into her hair and kissed her back, tasting coffee and possibility and sweetness that was purely her.
She made a small sound in the back of her throat and pressed closer, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt like she was afraid he might disappear if she didn't hold on tight enough.
The kiss deepened, became hungry and desperate, had nothing to do with careful consideration and everything to do with a week of wanting each other while pretending they were just landlady and tenant.
A week of falling in love and being too scared to admit it.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard, and Vanessa's cheeks were flushed in a way that made him want to kiss her again, longer and deeper, until she forgot every reason why this was complicated.
Until she forgot everything except how good they were together.
Her lips were swollen from his kiss, and he wanted to see what else he could make swell. Wanted to taste every inch of her until she was begging him for more.
"That was..." she started.
"A mistake?" he asked, though he was already reaching for her again, his hand sliding down to cup her hip, pulling her against him so she could feel exactly what she did to him.
"I don't know." Her hands were still fisted in his shirt, holding him close even as she looked uncertain. But her hips pressed forward, fitting against him in a way that made his breath catch. "Probably."
"Probably."
"Definitely."
"So we shouldn't do it again."
"Definitely shouldn't."
But she didn't let go of his shirt, and when he lowered his head to kiss her again, she met him halfway with an eagerness that told him she was just as lost as he was.
This time there was nothing tentative about it.
She kissed him like she'd been thinking about it for a week, like she was tired of being careful and ready to find out what happened when she wasn't.
Like she'd been falling just as hard as he had.
His hands slid down her back to grip her hips, pulling her impossibly closer.
Her body pressed against his was soft and real and everything he'd been imagining during those early morning showers when he could hear her moving around on the other side of the wall.
She fit against him perfectly, her curves molding to his body like she'd been made specifically to drive him out of his mind with wanting her.
He cupped her breast through her t-shirt, and she gasped into his mouth. No bra. Jesus. He could feel her nipple pebble up under his palm, and the knowledge that she was responding to him made him hard as a rock.
"Dustin," she breathed against his lips, and the way she said his name nearly undid him.
"Tell me to stop," he said, even as his thumb circled her nipple through the thin fabric. "Tell me this is a bad idea and I'll stop."
"It's a terrible idea," she said, but her hands were sliding under his shirt, her fingers tracing the muscles of his abdomen. "The worst."
"So I should stop?"
"Hell no."
He walked her backward until her back hit the barn wall, his body pinning hers there. The position gave them some privacy from the main aisle, and he kissed her neck, finding that spot below her ear that made her shiver, and was rewarded with a moan that went straight to his groin.
"We should go," she said, but her head tilted back to give him better access, and her leg hooked around his hip, pulling him closer.
"We should," he agreed, his hand sliding under her shirt to find bare skin. She was so soft, so responsive. Every touch made her arch into him, every kiss drew another one of those sounds from her throat that were driving him crazy.
"This is complicated."
"Very complicated." His hand cupped her breast properly now, skin on skin, and she gasped. Her nipple was hard against his palm, begging for attention. He wanted to pull her shirt up, wanted to taste her, wanted to make her come apart right here against the barn wall.
"I don't do complicated."
"Neither do I." But his body was telling a different story, hard and aching and pressed against her in a way that left no doubt about what he wanted.
But neither of them moved to leave, and when she kissed him again, deeper and more demanding, he decided that complicated might be exactly what he'd been looking for his whole life without knowing it.
That loving Vanessa Baldwin might be the only thing that had ever made sense.
Her hand slid down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans, and he caught her wrist.
"If you touch me right now, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast," he said against her mouth.
"I want to touch you."
"Not here. Not like this." He pulled back enough to look at her, to see the desire in her eyes that matched his own. "When I finally get my hands on you properly, it's going to be in a bed where I can take my time. Where I can taste every inch of you and make you scream my name."
Her pupils dilated at his words, and she bit her lip in a way that made him want to bite it for her.
"That's a promise," he said, kissing her once more, deep and thorough. "Soon."
The sound of a car pulling into the parking lot broke them apart, and Vanessa stepped back with wide eyes and kiss-swollen lips, her shirt askew and her hair mussed from his hands.
She looked thoroughly kissed.
"We should really go," she said, trying to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes.
"Yeah, we should."
The drive home was silent, filled with the kind of tension that had nothing to do with awkwardness and everything to do with both of them thinking about what had just happened and what it meant for whatever careful boundaries they'd been trying to maintain.
What it meant that neither of them wanted boundaries anymore.
His hand rested on her thigh for most of the drive, his thumb tracing lazy circles that made her breath hitch. Every time he glanced over, she was looking at him with an intensity that made him want to pull over and finish what they'd started.
When they reached her house, she turned to him before getting out of the truck.
"Dustin?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever this is, whatever's happening between us... I need you to know that I'm not looking for anything temporary. I've had enough temporary in my life."
The words should have terrified him. Should have sent him scrambling for escape routes and excuses. Instead, they settled into his soul and stayed there, feeling more right than anything he'd ever heard.
"What are you looking for?"
"I don't know yet. But when I figure it out, I'll let you know."
She got out of the truck, but before she could close the door, he caught her hand.
"Vanessa?"
"Yeah?"
"I meant what I said back there. When I get you in a bed, I'm not letting you out until you're boneless and satisfied and absolutely sure about what you want from me."
Her cheeks flushed, and she squeezed his hand once before heading inside, leaving him sitting in her driveway hard and aching and wondering how long he could last before he made good on that promise.
Because somewhere between her front door and this moment, he'd stopped running. He'd stopped looking for the next rodeo, the next eight-second ride, the next place to crash for a few weeks before moving on.
He'd stopped wandering. And what he'd been searching for looked like a blonde woman with green eyes who made him want to be better than he'd ever thought he could be.
It looked like Vanessa.
And tonight, he was going to lie in bed down the hall from her, listening to her move around in her room, and think about all the ways he was going to make her his.