Cowboys & Kisses (12 page)

More trucks were arriving. By the time Levi had the cooler from the back of his Blazer, Austin and Dylan and a handful of others were already setting up around the fire.

Dax walked by me, but he didn’t look at me. I knew I’d pissed him off. I didn’t know why I’d said what I said. But there was no way I could take it back. I didn’t want to take it back. It was true. It was my fault Lindie was dead. But none of these people knew anything about it. None of them knew Lindie. And they never would. Because of me.

I wanted to get out of there. I didn’t want to have anything to with these people, their rodeos and bonfires. This wasn’t my life. And they would never be my friends. Not like Lindie.

Sadness and guilt clawed their way up, strangling all the other emotions I’d made room for. I don’t know how I’d let myself get there, at a party, surrounded by people wanting to have fun, to chill out. I shouldn’t be there. I had no right to be there. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to go home.

Home. There was no going
home
.

“Hey.” Wyatt’s voice was soft.

I turned, staring at him. They’d started the fire, but it was too dark to make out his expression. Not that his expression mattered right now. “Can you get me out of here?” I asked.

He looked at the fire, then at me. “Are you sure?” I nodded. “Want me to take you home?” he asked.

“I don’t care where we go, Wyatt, as long as we
go
.” My voice shook.

He nodded. “Let’s go, then.” We headed to his truck.

“Allie?” Molly came running up. “What’s up?”

“Wyatt’s going to take me home,” I said.

“Oh…okay. I’ll get Dax.”

“No.” I put my hand on her arm. “You guys stay and have fun, okay?”

She hesitated. I couldn’t see her face clearly, but I could imagine it. She probably thought I was mental. I was acting like it.

“Tell Dax to text me and I’ll come get y’all,” Wyatt offered.

“Okay,” Molly said. “Well…night.” She walked back to the blazing fire, to Dax. She whispered something in his ear and he looked in our direction. But instead of looking mad, he smiled.

“Let me move some stuff to the back,” Wyatt said when we reached his truck.

“It’s fine.” I opened the front driver door and slid onto the bench seat.
Stuff
was piled up, taking up more than half of the seat. So basically I’d be in his lap…but I didn’t care.

He looked into the truck at me, the muscle in his jaw jumping, before he climbed in beside me. He started the truck and reached for the stick shift. That’s where things got interesting.

My legs were on either side of the stick shift, since there wasn’t room to put them anywhere else. When he put his hand on the stick shift, his elbow brushed against the front of my skin-tight shirt. For the first time in my life I felt like my boobs were enormous, too big to ignore. Lindie’d given me crap about how I didn’t use boobs to their advantage. I could have any guy I wanted, if I let them
accidentally
brush up against me—to show them I was interested. I’d called her a slut and laughed her off.

Thing is, I knew Wyatt would never
accidentally
rub up against me. Honestly, I was the one that jumped into his truck, pressing myself up against him, making him rub and brush against me…so he could
drive
. He didn’t have a choice. But I was reacting, a lot, to his
driving
.

He smelled crazy good. The muscle in his thigh moved, pressing against my thigh. When he shifted into second gear, it took everything I had not to turn into his side, to bury my face against his neck. Because he was right there, warm and solid and…touching me without touching me.

He shifted into high gear and lifted his hand but there was no place to put it. We were too close for him to keep it on the gear shift handle, or his arm would remain between my boobs. If he tried to rest his arm, it would be draped along my thigh, or awkwardly across his own lap. If he put his hand on the steering wheel, his elbow would be bouncing off of my chest at every turn or bump.

“Here.” I moved closer, under his arm, forcing him to drape his arm around my shoulders. But his arm lay along the back of the seat, not my shoulders. Which irritated me. I forced myself to sit ramrod straight, as far from him as I could. Which wasn’t much.

We turned, and I slid against his side, his arm wrapping around my shoulder to support me. I didn’t hesitate. I melted—against him, into him. My head fell to his shoulder and my arm rested along his thigh. Even though I knew better.

He smelled even better up close. I turned my head, my nose brushing the front of his white button-down shirt. His hand rubbed up and down my arm, the slight tremor in his touch doing something strange to me. What would he do if I turned in to him? If I…if I kissed his neck?

Heat rolled through my body, startling me, exciting me… I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of my feelings. Letting myself feel these incredible feelings.

The truck was slowing down, but I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to open them and be
there
—the place that was supposed to be home but wasn’t. His arm moved, shifting gears again. His arm slid over me, another shockwave of intense heat. He shifted again, and the truck stopped, but I still didn’t move.

Every single inch of me was focused on his arm, draped across my thighs now…his hand resting on the outside of my thigh. His fingers brushed along the seam of my jeans. Without the roar of the engine and the whistle of the AC, the chirp of crickets and Wyatt’s out-of-control heartbeat filled the confined space of the truck cabin.

“We’re here,” Wyatt said, his voice soft.

I was trying to breathe normally, even though I was on total sensory overload. Being here was good—or I might just ask him to keep on driving. I opened my eyes. No sign of the old farmhouse. I blinked. “Where’s
here?
”

“Come on,” he said as he opened the truck door. I followed him. “Watch your step.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

“Okay,” I whispered back.

Thank God he had a flashlight. It was dark. Dark-dark. Like I couldn’t see the ground in front of me dark. I took his hand when he reached back for me. It made things easier.

Then we stopped. “What?” I asked, still whispering. He flashed the beam of light in front of us.

We stood on a ledge, suspended a good fifty feet above…something. I couldn’t tell, it was black. I took a step closer, but his hand tightened around mine. He pulled me back, beside him, and turned off the flashlight.

“Look up,” he said, his deep voice echoing.

I did. “Holy shit!” I whispered.

He laughed. I smiled—which was okay since he couldn’t see me.

Millions and millions of stars. “Who knew?” I asked, awestruck.

His hand moved, his fingers sliding between mine so our hands were threaded together. I shivered.

“I come out here when I need to be reminded that there are things bigger than me,” he said.

I tried to pull my hand from his. “You brought me out here to, what, talk
at
me?”

“No.” His hand tightened on mine. “I brought you here to scream.”

I relaxed. “Oh.”
God, Wyatt…
He squeezed my hand once. “Like you’re going to chase me through the woods and chop me up scary-movie scream?”

He laughed. “No.”

No. When did I become such a dork?
Crickets.

“What do you think?” he asked.

What
did
I think? “You’re here,” I argued. “I…It’s too weird.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“You don’t have to, Allie. It helps me sometimes, is all.” His thumb was moving slowly back and forth across the back of my hand.

I liked it. “It really helps?”

“Me.” His voice was soft.

Crickets.

What did I have to lose? Maybe it
would
help. If it didn’t, I was standing by an incredibly hot guy. I could always wrap my arms around Wyatt and…

Bad idea. Very bad idea.

“Here.” He stooped in the dark, then stood, taking my hand in his. “Throw this. It’ll help you get started.”

“A rock?” I asked, feeling the solid, cool weight of it in my hands.

“Take a deep breath, throw it, let it all out.”

“O-kay…” I had my doubts, but I sucked in a deep breath until my chest ached, threw the damn rock, and let it out. I screamed, yelled, long and broken. And when the air was gone I did it again…and again. Even when my throat was hurting and it was hard to breathe, I kept going.

When I knew I couldn’t do it anymore, Wyatt pulled me into his arms and held me, tight, against his chest. I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. His hands brushed tears from my cheeks. My tears. On my cheeks.

“Sorry, Allie.” He sounded so sad. I shook my head against his chest. “Whatever happened, whatever hurt you, I’m sorry.”

I’d been standing there, kind of limp, in his arms. His words, the anguish in his voice, reached me. Deep down, I heard him.

A piercing whistle split the night, ending with a resounding, familiar pop. I looked up in time to see the shower of bright red sparks overhead.

“Looks like it’s time for the fireworks.” Wyatt didn’t move, and neither did I.

We stood there, wrapped together, in the middle of nowhere, watching the sky explode over and over. White, yellow, green. Shapes, colors, patterns.

And beneath my cheek Wyatt’s heartbeat was steady, calm.

When the final fireworks—a crescendo of color—finished I knew we’d leave. I mean, we couldn’t stay out here all night…even if I kind of wanted to…which was weird.

He led us back to the truck. It was hard to argue when he hadn’t said a word. But there was no way I’d tell him that, right now, all I wanted was to stay here, with him, wrapped up in his arms, in his truck or under the stars.

He pulled the door open and I slid across the truck’s bench seat. Once he was beside me I moved, curling into him—my arms around his waist, my face buried against his neck.

He froze, the muscles along his side and back tightening beneath my touch. But then he relaxed, sliding his arm around my waist and pressing me against him—no space between us. Just the way I wanted it. All I knew was that there was something powerful in his touch, his scent. That with him next to me, I felt like things were going to be okay. A dangerous, silly, illusion…but I was too drained to worry about it right now. Instead, I let my fingers run down his side, along his rigid muscles. I listened to his breathing, the way it hitched when I turned my nose into his chest.

By the time we drove down the gravel drive toward home, I was terrified all over again. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let him in. I couldn’t care. Because then I’d have to worry about losing him…

My parents were sitting on the front porch swing when we got there. I didn’t bother looking at either of them as I made my way up onto the porch, Wyatt behind me.

“Have fun?” Mom asked.

I shrugged. “Bonfires aren’t really my thing.”

“Fireworks were nice,” Dad said. I assumed he was talking to Wyatt.

“Yes, sir,” Wyatt agreed. “They pulled out all the stops.”

“Perfect view from right here,” Mom said, patting Dad on the knee as she said it.

I leaned against the porch railing, staring into the sky overhead. There were still millions of stars up there…so why didn’t they look as magical now as they had then?

Wyatt joined me but he didn’t touch me. I glanced at him, but he was staring up at the sky too.

I heard Mom yawn. “I’m turning in. It was a long hot day for me.”

“Night, Dr. Cooper,” Wyatt said.

“Congratulations on tonight, Wyatt,” she said. “What happens next?”

“I’m not sure yet. All-around offers some big college scholarships…but I’m not thinking of going pro.” He smiled. “If I can’t get the money, I’ll follow Hank to the Marines after graduation. Then college.”

“Sounds like you have a plan,” Dad said. “Any degree ideas?”

“I’d like to do what Dr. Cooper does.” Wyatt smiled. “Large animal, preferably. Hook up with one of the rodeo circuits, maybe. Or have a clinic somewhere close to home.”

“Wyatt,” My mother moved closer to him. “Hurry up. I’d
love
a partner.”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Night,” she said as she went inside.

“Why Marines?” Dad asked.

And though it irritated me that he asked, I wanted to know the answer too. Steers and rodeos and Marines, too? Was he an adrenaline junkie?

“Some friends of mine are Marines. Money’s not bad, sir.” He shrugged. “I’m a good student, but I know better than to expect a lot of money in academic scholarships. I work, but I have bills so I’m not putting much back.”

My father nodded, but didn’t say anything as he headed to the front door.

He had bills? Really?

“I’ll be over in the morning, sir,” Wyatt said.

“I’ll be here, son. You get some rest.” He paused. “When will Dax be home?” I knew he was talking to me, even though he was looking at the porch swing.

“Soon,” I managed.

He nodded. “Night.”

We listened to the creak of the stairs as he made his way up to his room. He and Mom were at the other end of the hall from me, lots of squeaky floorboards between us—just the way I liked it.

Leaving me and Wyatt alone.

8 CHAPTER EIGHT

“You good?” Wyatt asked me.

I nodded. “Throat’s going to be sore tomorrow.” He smiled. “But I’m good.”

“I’ll go get Dax,” he murmured, his gaze falling to my lips.

Just like that I was hot and bothered and confused all over again.
You should kiss me. Right now.

Wait. No…
I didn’t want to get involved with him. No matter how amazingly awesome he was—and he
was
, I knew that now. He deserved better.

When he took a step, I took a step back. I couldn’t lead him on. I’d been sending him, and myself, mixed signals all night. No more. “Okay…I’ll text him. So he knows you’re coming.”