Chapter 11 Katie
KATIE
I've been staring at this text message for probably an hour.
I should just send it. I already typed it out.
It's not even that big of a deal.
It's an invitation to dinner, that's all. At my place. Alone. With Wayne.
I groan in annoyance as my thoughts spiral again. I'll probably wear a path clean through my floor with all this pacing, but it helps me think.
It's been two weeks since Wayne took me out to dinner. It’s been four days since he pulled me into a stall and kissed me like he was starving for it while I was at the ranch. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
About him.
I've been running all over town for work pretty much nonstop, but every time I'm at the ranch, he’s around.
He's not even being annoying or getting in my way like he was before, however.
Sometimes he brings me coffee, and sometimes he just chats with me while I do basic checks on the heifers.
He just makes a point of being nearby, and weirdly, it's been really nice to spend more time with him.
He texts me often when I'm not there, sending me updates and occasional selfies, asking what I'm up to. I get good morning and good night texts every day, and I'm starting to get used to it. I’d even say I’m starting to like it, though I don’t want to admit it.
Wayne was a shithead when we were younger — not that this stopped me pining for him, of course — but I always knew he had a softer side.
Ever since our date, I've been getting to see that soft side increasingly often. He’s sweet and thoughtful, and as I get to know him better, I like him more and more.
He's asked me to dinner a few more times, even breakfast once, but I’ve been so busy I’ve had to turn him down every time. Amazingly, this hasn’t even seemed to bother him. He’s like an entirely different person.
If I'm honest, it hasn't just been my schedule that has me turning him down, though.
I don't want to date playboy Wayne Riggs. I want something serious with someone who cares about and respects me. I want to know that Wayne wants more than an easy lay and someone to keep him company during this supposed “vacation” he’s on back home.
He makes me feel light and bubbly like no one else, but I know better than to run into things without thinking them through.
Here’s the truth. Deep down, part of me is just scared that all of this has been some sort of long-running deception on his part.
That maybe he’s just acting this way to get me, for some egotistical reason, and once we sleep together again, he’ll revert right back.
The thought of inviting him into my home is scary.
I've made this space mine, and I don't let people who would disrespect me into my home.
I don't think this new Wayne would do that, but the fear of it lingers bitterly.
Fuck it.
I've thought about this long enough. I hit send, fling my phone down, and bolt for the other room to try to distract myself.
My phone pings moments after I leave the room. I resist the urge to run back in and check it for a whopping two whole seconds.
Wayne: Dinner sounds great. I'll bring some wine. Red or white?
I text him back to bring white and immediately start panicking.
What the fuck am I doing? There’s no way that this is a good idea. What am I even going to make? I can feed myself, but it’s not like I’m a great cook. Italian is always a good choice. I can make pasta of some sort.
I just need to breathe.
I don’t do a great job of that in the two hours it takes Wayne to show up. I flit from room to room, organizing trinkets and brushing dust off picture frames just to keep myself busy.
I haven’t invited someone home in years. Even my most recent ex never came over here. I always went to his place.
The knock on the door makes me jump, but I don’t allow myself to overthink. I walk up and open the door, hoping my smile doesn’t betray my nerves.
Wayne has a black quarter zip sweater and jeans on. His hair is styled into loose waves, and he’s smiling at me like he actually missed me. The sight almost knocks me off my feet.
“I hope Moscato is okay. It’s all we had at the house.” His smile flickers into something hungry for a split-second as he looks over me. “You look amazing.”
I’m not wearing anything fancy, just my usual tank top and jeans, but that makes his compliment feel even more special.
I invite him in, and I bring the wine to the fridge so it can chill for a bit. Wayne makes himself comfortable, leaning against my kitchen counter and looking almost like he belongs here. That thought scares me a bit.
“I was thinking…” Wayne says, a soft smile on his face. “I know you’ve got work this weekend, but do you think you could keep your schedule clear for next Saturday?”
My heart pounds in my chest. It’s been a long time since a man actually paid attention when I talked, and having Wayne of all people remember my schedule makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.
“I might be able to.” Can’t make it that easy on him. “What did you have in mind?”
“I wanted to take you riding. Now that Milky’s all healed up, I thought it’d be fun to go out for a picnic off one of the trails.”
That’s not what I expect at all. He’s asked me out a few times, but it’s always been for dinner or coffee. Things that could be brushed off as outings with a friend. This, though, is unquestionably a date.
“I—yeah. I’d like that a lot.”
There’s no point pretending like I don’t want to go out with him. I already invited him into my home. I was just waiting for him to show me he wants to put effort into this, too.
I was waiting for this.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, his voice just as soft as the grin on his face.
“You’re just sweet.” I’m in way over my head. “It’s good to see this side of you.”
He hesitates before answering, glancing away like he’s ashamed. A soft blush spreads over the bridge of his nose, and it’s more charming than I’d like to admit.
“It’s good to be seen. Especially by you.”
It’s a line. It has to be. The tentative hope in those blue eyes has to be an act. I can’t have found what I’ve always been looking for in Wayne Riggs of all people.
I cross the kitchen and stand in front of him, my whole body buzzing with anxiety and excitement.
He straightens, the tenderness in his eyes morphing into hesitant interest. His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to touch me, and I reach out to twine our fingers together.
Everything feels like it ebbs and flows with the beat of my heart, and feeling Wayne’s pulse against my own makes me lightheaded.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask.
My voice is hardly a whisper, only audible because of how close we’re standing.
Panic threatens to take hold of me, old memories of ridicule and mockery floating just below the surface.
Giving him such an easy opportunity to reject me is terrifying, but no harsh laughter follows my question.
Wayne’s hands stay in mine, and the smile that spreads over his face looks genuine.
The kiss he presses to my lips is gentle, almost innocent enough to be chaste.
That’s not what I want. Not tonight. I want to be wanted.
I step forward, pressing my body against his. He only manages to hold onto his self control for a moment before his hands drop mine and fly to my hips, tugging me closer. Our kiss goes from soft to frantic in a half-second.
Wayne flips me against the counter, pinning me there as he nips at my lips and drinks down the soft noises of pleasure he pulls from my mouth. No one else has kissed me the way Wayne does. Like he can’t think of anything else while his mouth is on mine.
I groan in disappointment even as I end the kiss.
“I know I said I was going to make dinner, but what do you say to … eating later?” I ask, heart hammering like a racehorse.
His gaze flits between my eyes and my mouth, and he licks his lips before grinning wickedly.
“I'd happily starve if I could get my mouth on you again.”
I giggle at the seriousness on his face, pulling him back in for another furious, hungry kiss.
He tastes like wine and impatience, and I chase the flavor to every corner of his mouth.
His hands don't stay still for a second, grabbing at my hips and hoisting me up with seemingly no effort.
I wrap my legs around his waist and let him carry me to my bedroom as we kiss.
I didn't exactly plan for this to happen, but I did make my bed. And shave. And I’m wearing a lacy little bra and panty set.
Okay, maybe I planned for this.
I really can't be blamed, not with the way Wayne’s hands grasp every inch of me like he wants to memorize the feeling. He lays me back on the bed, leaning over me as he continues our slow, mind-blowing kisses.
His hair is soft between my fingers, and I tangle a fist in it and tug. Not hard, just enough to get my own impatience across.
He's not the only one who's been waiting.
“You want this?” he asks, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine.
“I want you.”
Hearing that, all his willpower vanishes.
He yanks at my shirt and my pants, his hands clumsy, so desperate to get to my skin that he can't focus on any one thing. I’m just as needy as he is, so I tug my shirt over my head and fling it to the side as he tugs my jeans down my legs.
“You're so fucking gorgeous.” His voice is a deep rumble, vibrating against my skin as he presses his mouth to my calf and starts trailing kisses upwards. “All dressed up for me, huh?”
I shiver in delight at the sharp nip of his teeth against the inside of my thigh.
“You're a little overdressed, don't you think?” I tease.
He's still wearing the quarter zip and jeans he showed up in. He looks incredible, but I'd much rather feel his skin on mine.
“Trying to get me naked?” he asks with a grin as he pulls his sweater up over his head.