Chapter 22
Weston
Sweat drips down my forehead as I hop off the horse, leading it into the barn.
It was a hot son of a bitch out there today.
Shit always hits the fan when the sun is at its hottest. We had one of our best bulls get stuck on the wash bank of the river, took everything we had to get him out.
We’ll keep him at the barn for the next couple of days to make sure there aren’t any injuries we didn’t notice.
“Next time you need help wrangling up an escaping cow, call Maverick,” Rhett says as he takes his saddle off his horse. He runs his hand up and down her neck before giving her a couple pats.
A breeze comes by and brushes against my sweaty exterior, cooling me down. “Where the hell was this breeze when we were out there sweating our balls off?”
“I think you’ve shit talked Mother Nature a few too many times for her to want to do you any favors.” Rhett levels me with a look.
I have cursed her a few times. Too much rain. Not enough rain. Too much snow. Not enough snow. Honestly, I’m a bit high maintenance when it comes to the weather.
“Well, at least we get to head off to Mom and Pop’s for dinner.” The one thing I had pulling me through today was the thought of a good meal and an ice-cold beer. And seeing Willow. That might just be the best part about her living with me. I get to see her at least once a day.
“No, we don’t, she and your dad headed out of town, don’t you remember?” He picks his saddle up off the ground and starts carrying it into the barn from the stalls.
“Son of a bitch, I forgot about that. Well, sandwiches are sounding mighty fine tonight.” They sound awful, actually, but I’m beat and don’t have it in me to whip something up or drive to town.
“You mean to tell me you can’t wrestle your pretty little roommate into helping you with dinner?” he asks.
I scratch the back of my neck, feeling a little bit awkward because she’s far more than a little bit pretty, and I don’t really know where we stand. “I don’t think I’m in any position to be asking her to do a damn thing for me. She’s finally coming around, and I don’t want to push her too far.”
“Well, you know, you don’t want to be too complacent either. I know you don’t want to talk about wanting her back, but if you do, you’re going to have to do something about it. You can’t just expect her to come to you when she’s ready. You’re gonna have to fight for her.”
I know in my gut that he’s right. I pushed her away all those years ago and it was the biggest mistake of my life.
Rhett puts a saddle away before walking next to me, slapping my shoulder a couple times. “It’ll work out, bud. You just gotta give it time and some effort.”
Somehow, this man always has the answers. He’s wise beyond his years, and I can’t understand how the hell he’s still single. “You know, man. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t gotten married yet.”
He stills, stopping his stride. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know, you seem to have it all together.
Most of us still act like we’re teenagers, and you’ve always been an old soul.
I’ve heard girls like the whole emotional stability thing.
” Wouldn’t know because I’m still trying to figure out how not to be a total idiotic jackass.
Those are my sister’s words, but honestly, she’s not entirely wrong.
My heart’s in the right place, but good Lord, could my head just work for one minute? Things would be a lot easier.
“Well, I’m glad you think so, man. I don’t know. That’s just not in the cards for me, I don’t think,” he says, a heaviness to his voice.
Wanting to lighten whatever is weighing on him, I respond, “If it makes you feel better, I had the perfect hand dealt to me and then screwed it all up.”
“Don’t lose faith. She still loves you. She’s just not ready to admit to herself yet.”
With those final words of wisdom, he steps out of the barn, and I’m feeling even more tired than I was when we got back. This whole living with the love of my life but not being together is exhausting.
The drive home is short, but not short enough because my stomach is rumbling.
All I’ve had today is a half-melted protein bar and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich I packed for myself.
And I ate that at ten am. It’s now almost eight-thirty pm.
The sun is already making its descent behind the mountain.
Painting the sky the prettiest shades of orange.
A good old-fashioned Wyoming sunset is hard to beat.
In these moments, I have to remember to take in the good times. It keeps me grounded. Remembering to be thankful for what I have, not what I’m missing out on, is the only reason I’ve been able to stay positive even in times when I’ve struggled.
I park my truck in the garage and head into the kitchen through the connecting door.
What I see before me makes me stop in my tracks.
Willow rubs her hands on her jeans, dusting off whatever remains are left on them.
“Sorry, I was hoping to be done by the time you got here. I came home and saw that you weren’t here, and I waited around a little bit, but then you still weren’t here, so I figured you’d be hungry when you got home, but then I looked in the cabinets and they we’re kind of running low of basically everything so I just ran to the store and went grocery shopping.
” She says in a rush before adding. “I just realized I am rambling like an idiot.” She shakes her head and smiles at me, but it seems a little forced and a little bit awkward and completely adorable on her.
“You were right, I would in fact love dinner. It was a really long day and I’m starved.” Both for food and more time with her.
“Well, don’t get too excited. It’s gonna be nothing like your mom’s cooking.
My kitchen in New York is like 3’ x 3’, so I don’t have a lot of experience cooking.
But I was able to pan-roast some chicken and make some mashed potatoes and gravy.
And green beans! If I’m gonna be on my grandpa about eating better, then we’re going to live by that as well. ”
I feel that bloom of hope I’ve been feeling take root, become tangible.
It feels warm and all-consuming. Kind of like the way I feel about her.
The beautiful woman standing in my kitchen cooking me dinner after a long day.
This is what I dreamed of. This exact thing right here.
It may not be perfect, and she may not be mine, but I’ve decided it’s not over till you say it’s over.
“It smells incredible, so I’m sure it will be perfect,” I say, setting my hat on the counter and emptying my pockets. “Thanks for making my day a little bit easier. Is there anything around the house you need help with?”
“Not that I can think of, you can go clean up, and I’ll have dinner ready when you’re done.”
I stare at her for a long while. She gazes back, and I feel like I’m memorizing her all over again.
The slope of her nose. Freckles that line the apples of her cheeks, which are more prominent now that it’s summer and she’s been in the sun.
The way her hair sits messily on the top of her head, a few tendrils framing her stunning face.
I’m so hopelessly in love with her. It’s almost painful.
She’s the first one to look away, and I glance down at my work boots.
Quickly, I take them off and head up to my shower, but not before catching another glance of Willow.
She’s turned back to the stove now, giving me a perfect view of that tight little ass of hers.
My heart isn’t the only part of me that misses her.
Just one glance of her like this has me going crazy.
My fingers itch to touch her. To come behind her while she’s cooking on the stove, circle her in my arms, and brush my fingertips against her bare stomach as I reach around.
My lips would kiss down on the curve of her neck, and she would whimper, making my cock harden.
I quickly shake my head, letting go of that image before I have a whole other problem to deal with.
My fork scrapes against the plate as I bring a bite of food to my mouth. She was downplaying how good she was at cooking. This meal is incredible.
“Not only did she get the order wrong. Instead of commenting in our side chat, she accidentally sent it in our meeting chat, where the boss caught her talking shit. Which was all very accurate and totally justified, but that was her last day as the office assistant.” Her body shakes with laughter as she brings a glass of wine to her lips.
Her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and her lips are stained the perfect shade of red from her wine.
“I really think you should be able to complain or even give direct feedback to your boss without getting fired. I can’t tell you how many times I told my pops he was being a jackass. He never fired me, but I did have to shuck cow shit out of stalls for a month straight.”
She wrinkles her nose up in disgust, and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. God fucking I’m pathetic.
I literally can’t look at this girl without daydreaming and getting lost in the thoughts of her. I’m supposed to be a man’s man. But when it comes to her, I just want to be her man.
Finishing my dinner, I wipe off my mouth with my napkin and throw it onto the plate.
Willow gets up and reaches over to take my plate. “Here, let me take your plate to the sink.”
“Nope,” I bat her away and shake my head, “you cooked dinner, I got cleanup duty. If you’re not too tired, we could watch a movie or a TV show.”
She nods her head, yes, before replying, “That sounds nice.”
“Great, well if you want to pick something to watch, I’ll clean up and do the dishes, and I’ll meet you on the couch.”
She hops off to the living room; her shoulders seem lighter, and she has a pep in her step.
This version of Willow was exactly how I remember her, just a little bit more grown-up and a hell of a lot more mature.
She has a lightness to her that was missing when she first got here.
I knew it was still in there somewhere. I could see it in her eyes, but I think there’s something about New York that is weighing her down.
Something about the past, maybe? That’s something I can relate to.
When I sit down next to her on the couch, I leave enough space not to be touching, but not so far away that I can’t subtly slide my arm across the back of the couch, you know, for comfort.
Not because I’m a pathetic thirty-one-year-old man too scared to tell the woman living in his house that he still loves her, so he’ll slowly convince her that he does with his actions.
“What are we watching?” I ask as I set my feet up on the ottoman.
“50 first dates.” She looks over to me with a touch of glee in her gaze.
“Good pick,” I say as I snag the blanket from the back of the couch and throw it over our legs.
We get more comfortable on the couch, and the urge to touch her and be closer becomes overwhelming. I dare to slide my arm across the back of the couch, my fingertips just barely touch her shoulder, her silky strands intermingle with my fingers.
She leans in, ever so slightly, but I feel her warmth seep into me. “This is my favorite part.” I turn to look at her, more enraptured by her than by the movie.
I turn my head just in time to see Drew Barrymore beat the crap out of Rob Schneider’s character. Willow throws her head back in laughter, and I can't help but join her. “Okay, this might be my favorite, too.”
She looks over to me, her eyes bright from the laughter. “You have to pick your own favorite scene. This one is mine.” She winks and snuggles in a little closer, her head resting on my shoulder. “Is this okay? If you want space–”
“It’s fine, Sunshine. Get comfy.” Space is the last thing I want from her. I want her skin on mine. But this, this will do.
Her hand lands on my torso, and I, a grown man, feel fucking butterflies. It feels like we’re kids again, dancing around wanting to be more, but not really knowing how. My hand rests on her waist as she sinks in further.
Within a few minutes, her breathing levels out, and when I look down, her eyes are closed, and she’s completely relaxed. Fuck me. This is what I want, every single night. Her asleep in my arms.
I haven’t felt this at peace in years. When I close my eyes, savoring the moment, it becomes harder and harder to try and open them, so I don’t. I sink into a deep sleep. Hopefully, my dreams are full of her, too.