Chapter 14
Logan
We’re going to fucking blow it.
All because of a fake wedding ceremony that fucked with our heads. Sure, this town is obsessed with romance and relationships, but Macey and I have always stayed away from its gravitational pull.
Ever since last night, though, things feel off.
The rules Macey and I set up work for us. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a fantasy evening ruin everything.
But I can’t stop wanting to kiss her. I can’t stop staring at her mouth.
I jump off the rock, turning away from the mind-blowing beauty in front of me. And I don’t mean the Hill Country vista all around us.
“Let’s bring the horses back and walk through town. Sound good?”
I don’t even look back to see if Macey’s agreed. I just head for Dexter and untie him. I climb up onto his back, and only then do I check that Macey’s behind me. She’s already mounting Queen, and when we lock eyes, I force myself to look away.
We ride through the meadow and down the hill until we enter the burnt-out field that leads to the barn. We pull up on the horses and dismount.
I take the reins from Macey in silence, and she follows me over to the hosing station. We take turns cooling off Queen and Dexter, making sure to take the time to rub down their legs.
We bring them to the field and turn them out with the others. Macey stands on the outside of the fence, leaning her elbows over the top so she can watch Queen eating from the grain pail.
“Horses have it right, don’t they?”
I step up onto the run with her so we’re side by side. I keep my eyes on Dexter in the field when I say, “How do you mean?”
“They exercise. They eat and drink. They play with their friends. They don’t push anybody away.”
“Huh.” I watch Dexter nuzzle with Queen like they’re chatting about the trip they just took. “Sounds to me like you’re finding a round-about way of going after yourself.”
She elbows me in the arm lightly. “You’re too good at reading me, Logan. Maybe I should make some new friends.”
“Maybe I just know exactly what you need. You can’t find that with someone new, can you?”
She ducks underneath my arm and jumps to the ground. “Let’s continue our day off. I’m thinking we can stroll through the market in the center of town. What do you say?”
“Only if you’ll let me flirt with Mrs. Carter. She’s eighty and easy.”
Macey rolls her eyes, and I chuckle as we start walking toward Main Street.
“You know that woman can’t stand my family. She thinks The Cowherd should be shut down because my daddy is an alcoholic. I can’t say she’s necessarily wrong, of course. But she doesn’t have to be so judgmental.”
“No, she doesn’t. But you know I love getting under your skin. And Mrs. Carter makes it too damn simple.”
When we reach the outdoor market, we walk from tent to tent, chatting with the vendors and trying everything from grape soda in giant beer mugs that say “Choose Your Mr. Darcy” to putting temporary tattoos on our forearms. The tattoos are Macey’s idea, and somehow I let her talk me into it.
We already got real tattoos together years ago, and that’s all I need.
But getting fake tattoos today feels like a good way to reset and just have some fun.
Macey chooses both our tattoos from Gwen, who runs the booth, and she won’t let me look at mine until it’s on.
“Okay, go ahead and see.”
I glance down at the inside of my forearm.
“Darcy Rocks.” I shake my head. “Jesus, our town is so damn cheesy.”
“Tell me about it.” She shows me her arm.
“The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapel complete with an actual image of a cow.” I chuckle. “How did Gwen decide on that design?”
“I’m sure my mother talked to Gwen and asked her to include it on the list of options.”
“These ridiculous tattoos are my limit. I’m calling it. No more tents for us,” I say firmly, leading her away from the town lawn. “Let’s go get cupcakes.”
We leave the grassy area and head across the street to the row of limestone buildings along Main Street. We pass the library and the inn and head into the bakery. After we order a cupcake each, Macey turns and puts her hand on my arm.
“Thank you,” she says simply.
I know what she means, but I play dumb. Because I love it when she’s happy, and I want to see her smile a little longer. “For what?”
She squeezes my bicep, and my dick hardens. “For this. For today.” She leans her head on my shoulder.
I soak in the moment, knowing it will be over long before I’m ready.
“You’re welcome, Mace. You deserve more of these days, you know.”
“Maybe someday,” she says.
“Hey!” I turn at the familiar voice.
Blake and his current “girlfriend”—and I use that term loosely because Blake doesn’t date anyone for more than a month or two—stroll through the screen door of the bakery.
“What are y’all up to?” he asks.
“Getting a snack.” Macey smiles at his girlfriend. “Hi, Raquel. Nice to see you again.”
Blake kisses Raquel’s cheek. “What do you want, baby? A chocolate cupcake okay?”
The redhead glares at him. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
She frowns. “I’ve told you that every time we’ve been out, Blake. It’s like you don’t pay attention to a word I say.”
Awkward silence hits our group. Until Macey—God bless her—says in her sweet Texas drawl to Raquel, “Boys. If they don’t have an instruction manual taped to their body, they don’t remember anything.”
She’s being a good friend as usual and trying to help Blake off the massive-ass hook he set up for himself to hang by.
Raquel laughs, and the tension ebbs.
But as the four of us walk out of the bakery a while later, I pull Blake aside.
He and I aren’t just cousins—we grew up together, and our friendship is for life.
His father and mine are brothers and have been simultaneously at each other’s throats and there for each other in ways I don’t think we even know of.
The official family ranch names are Wild Ranch and Wild Ivy Ranch after Blake’s mama, but that’s just for legal reasons and tax purposes. Blake and I have always looked at our family businesses as exactly the same, and neither of us is keen on continuing our daddy’s legacy of full-time cowboy life.
Blake’s more of a brother to me than my own are. Doesn’t mean I love everything he does, like the way he dates.
“If you’re not feeling it with Raquel, dude, cut her loose,” I tell him. “Don’t string her along for another week or a month—whatever it is that you do.”
He grins at me, the kind of wicked smile only Blake can pull off. Devilish and well-meaning at the same fucking time.
“You’re one to talk, cowboy.”