Chapter 26
Colter
Castlebrook Town Crier Text Chain
Sue Cruthkins
That’s not normal.
Do we think he’s prepping for something or just finally cracked?
“After everything I’ve done for you, and you’re not even going to tell me about it?” Jake whines, betrayal coating his features.
“Fucking right, I’m not telling you about it,” I snap, walking away from my brother before I knock him out.
“But I have to update the group chat.” The idiot follows behind me, the bell over the door chiming as we enter the feed store.
“Update them without the details.” We came for some new horse leads, ours are starting to fray, and we have to pick up our order of feed. Normally, it’s a trek I like to take on my own, but Jake was basically bouncing off the walls waiting for details from our trip. Details he won’t be getting.
“You boys good?” Hal asks, hovering over the register.
“All good, Hal. You?” My brother asks, quickly dropping the subject of Kayla and me to greet the old man who used to always give us chocolate mints when we came in with Dad.
“Eh, can’t complain,” he taps the desk. “Lemme get the boys in the back to load up your truck.”
“Putting your grandsons to work this summer?” I ask, looking over the rack of hats. I need a new one, since Kayla took my favorite one for herself.
“Sure am. Lemme know if Ben needs a job,” he chuckles at his own joke.
“Kayla’s keeping him busy this summer.” I grab one of the CAT hats and toss it on the countertop with the leads.
“How is our lovely Kayla?” He asks, ambling his way back to the countertop. “The group chat has been kind of quiet.”
“You too, Hal?” I shake my head, disappointed. This town and their gossip.
“Eh. What else am I supposed to do between football seasons?”
“We need to start a Bingo league, or something,” I grumble, sliding my card over to him.
“That’s a good idea. You should mention that to Luanne.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
Hal slides the card back over with a receipt and a wink. “Tell Kayla she should stop by sometime. Folks miss seeing her at the bakery.”
“She’s still there every morning. You just don’t wake up early enough,” I mutter, folding the receipt and tucking it into my back pocket.
“Son, I’m seventy-four. If I’m up before six, it’s because my bladder said so.”
Jake snorts beside me. “What he’s trying to say is, he’d rather see Kayla than you in town.”
Castlebrook Town Crier Text Chain
Sue Cruthkins
Just saw Kayla Carson driving Colter’s truck into town.
No judgment. Just hope she knows how to brake on gravel.
Jake howls. “Oh, Kayla’s gonna love this.”
“Unbelievable.” I pull out my phone to respond, but Jake yanks it out of my hand.
“Nope. Let me handle this.” He taps away like a teenager with a grudge, grinning from ear to ear.
“Jake,” I warn, using my Dad voice on my brother.
“Too late. It’s sent.”
Colter Williams
She drives better than half the people in this town, Sue.
And she doesn’t crash into the diner flower boxes like some people.
Sue Cruthkins
That was one time.
Allegedly.
Jake hands me back my phone, smug as hell. “God, I live for this group chat.”
I rub a hand down my face. “You need a hobby.”
“You are my hobby. Now let’s go see what your wife is doing in town.”
“Not my wife,” I reply instinctively, grabbing our stuff off the counter and waving goodbye to Hal.
Outside, the boys are just finishing with the feed bags. Jake tips them and jokes around, and I throw our haul into the backseat.
It’s hot today, muggy, and dust clings to my skin, just making me want to go home and shower. I was hoping I would get to go home and spend my afternoon with Kayla and my son, but I guess Kayla has other plans.
Jake swings up into the passenger seat, adjusting his hat so that the beak sits backwards. “Not your wife, yet,” he chides.
I stare at him.
Then I start the truck.
We both know Jake’s right, but he doesn’t need the inflation to his ego.
“Colter! Put me down,” Kayla pounds my back as I carry her up the front porch and into our home.
Jake and I had found her and Ben in the coffee shop, getting donuts.
Ben’s idea, I’m sure. He’s getting pretty good at negotiation.
Half an hour of math tutoring for one donut, that’s the deal he’s worked up.
If he doesn’t want to take over the farm in the future, he’ll definitely have a career as a businessman waiting for him.
I gently smack my girl’s ass, chuckling as she yelps in shock. “Ben’s with his Uncle. Ranch is taken care of. We have the night to ourselves, Sweets. What are we going to do with it?”
She continues to wriggle in my arms, but not with any real force, just enough to keep her pride alive. Her hair falls across her cheek, catching in my beard as I nuzzle her neck. She pretends to huff and then just breathes me in, softening.
I set her down in the hallway, knowing I’ve got her just where I want her. She hooks two fingers in my belt and tugs me down the hallway after her.
The house is quiet without Ben, and it’s weird being home midday.
Ever since our trip to Billings last weekend, I’ve been doubling down on ranch duties.
Summer is our busy time, and usually I don’t have the luxury of coming home early.
But I also didn’t have the luxury of Kayla Carson waiting for me at home before.
Kayla goes to the sink, pours us each a glass of water, and slides it down the counter to me like we’re in a saloon.
“So?” I ask. “What now?”
She leans her backside against the counter, then angles the glass to her lips. “I don’t know. You seemed like a man with a plan a few minutes ago.” She braces her arms on the kitchen island, her shirt dipping low and exposing the lace of her white bra.
I take my time closing the gap. Those two steps between me and that bra are an endless, dangerous landscape.
I set my water down beside hers and plant my hands on the island on either side of her hips.
Her eyes spark to life, hopeful. She has never been good at hiding where her head’s at, and I’ve never needed much encouragement.
“What’s the plan, Cowboy?” she asks, voice whiskey-rough, the nerves in her neck tight as fence wire.
I slide my thumb under her chin and tip her face up.
Her mouth is already parted, tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Her tongue flicks out seductively, flicking the tip of my thumb, swirling around it like it’s my cock.
“Jesus, Kayla,” I say, but it comes out as more of a growl. I press my thumb a little deeper, feel her lips close around it, warm and pillowy and wet, and that alone almost snaps the last thread of my self-control.
But I’m ornery, and she knows it—she wants to see what I’ll do. She wants to win this game she’s started.
She lets my thumb pop out of her mouth, eyes wide, lips shining. “Go on, cowboy. I dare you.”
So I do. I lift her up onto the cool marble counter, her thighs opening just enough to make room for me. Her knees clamp my hips, and I press myself between her legs, sliding my palms up her thighs, beneath the hem of her shorts. I watch her suck in a breath and lean back against the cool granite.
She tries to play coy, but her hips move, searching for where my hands will go next.
Her skin is goose-bumped, taut, and shivering.
I want nothing more than to bury my face between her legs and taste every inch of her, but I ride it out, slowly, like I’m breaking a skittish colt—waiting for her to come to me first. She clutches the counter, white-knuckled.
She hitches herself higher on the counter and grabs my shirt, dragging me in until my mouth grazes hers.
“Colter,” she whispers, almost pleading.
The sound of my name on her lips is enough to break me.
I sink into her kiss, open-mouthed, hungry.
Her legs wrap tight, and she pulls at my belt, both of us clumsy with impatience.
She’s already gasping when I wedge her closer, the marble icy beneath her thighs, her hands all over me now—palms under my shirt, fingers digging at my back, nails biting.
It’s the good kind of pain. She grinds against me with a little whimper, soft and needy, and I can’t stand it anymore.
With my mouth, I find her shoulder, tasting salt and sun.
She shivers and tries to get her hand down the front of my jeans.
“Impatient,” I grunt, nipping her ear.
“Like you’re not,” she shoots back, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. She pulls my face to hers and kisses me like she could choke on the need, like I’m her oxygen supply.
Every second without her is a waste of time.
My hands shove her shorts down, dragging them over her knees, all the while kissing her so hard our teeth knock.
She’s already wet, her thighs slick and urgent.
I slide my fingers over her, pulse thundering in my ears.
She breaks away, panting, and looks at me with all her shields down.
All the tough talk, the hard-edged banter—it’s just armor for this spark that consumes her.
The part that trusts me to catch it when it burns too hot.
I kiss the hollow of her throat, feel the stutter of her heartbeat under my mouth.
She sinks her hand into my jeans and wraps it around my dick.
She squeezes, slow, savoring the power, and her breath hitches.
I groan into her shoulder, biting the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and she arches into me.
I love seeing her body react to me, knowing it craves me the way I crave her.
We don’t bother with finesse. Kayla’s always been about raw wanting, the passion.
She helps me out of my jeans, and I fumble her underwear aside, and it’s ridiculous how quick and reckless we get. Everything hurts when I’m without her.
I tug her to the edge of the counter, dropping to my knees in front of her.
As badly as I want to be in her, I also want to taste her.
My tongue flicks out, lapping at her clit, and her hips arch off the countertop.
My hands span her waist, pushing her back down. She’ll take what I have to give her.
I let my teeth graze over her core, nipping lightly and then blowing. She shudders underneath me, moaning my name. It’s not loud enough. I want all those horny ranch hands—who always watch her ass when she walks away—to hear her cumming for me. Only me.
I let my caveman desires lead me as I worship her body. My fingers trail down her body sensually, making their way into her. I pump in and out of her, making sure to drag along the spot in her body that makes her knees shake and her toes cramp.
“Colt,” she whimpers, pulling at my hair. “Please.”
“Please what?” I ask, mouth pressed firmly to her core.
“I want to cum.”
“Nobody’s stopping you, Sweets.”
“I need more.”
“More?”
“I need you to fuck me, you asshole!” She snaps, lifting her head off the counter. She stares at me with this crazy glint in her eyes, and if I weren’t so amused, I might actually be a little scared of her.
“Well, all you had to do was say so, Sweets,” I pull away, smirking smugly.
I grasp my dick in my hand, giving it a couple of tugs, and then I push into her, and just for a second, we both freeze, startled at how much it feels like home.
She bites my jaw, fierce. “Don’t you dare stop.” She says it like a threat, and I laugh, because I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
It doesn’t last long. Neither of us pretends it will.
We’re too hungry, too deprived from pent-up frustrations, late nights, the mundane, the never-ending grind.
But we make up for it in how we touch, a thousand silent reminders that I see her, that she’s mine.
She comes first, shuddering against me, legs locked, sobbing out a sound I know I’ll dream about later.
“So pretty,” I whisper, kissing the crook of her neck. She sags against me, all tension seeping out of her in an instant. “We’re not done yet,” I promise her, lifting her from the island and heading for my bathroom. “We’re kid-free tonight, and we’re going to make the most of it.”