Cowboys & Kisses (30 page)

He shook his head. “You make it hard for me to remember whose house I’m in.”

He is such a good guy.
“You’re worried about disappointing my dad? You’re thinking about my dad. I’m thinking about yanking off my shirt—” I broke off, stunned that I’d admitted what I was thinking. And I
was
thinking about it. My mind was full of what might happen if…

His hands released my shirt, but his palms brushed along my exposed thighs in the process, making us both jerk with awareness. He sat back, resting his fisted hands on the sheet at his waist.

Was he caught up in this all-consuming yearning? Was he…throbbing? I certainly was. I
so
was. Thinking about being shirtless, here, now, in Wyatt’s bed—
with Wyatt
—was making me feel totally out of control, breathless, hollow, heavy.

He closed his eyes. “Allie…” It was a plea, I knew it. He did feel it.
Thank God.
And the way he said my name did something to me, called to me. It was a new kind of ache, a new kind of pull. He was fighting for control, and…I was ready to let go.

“If it makes it any easier, I feel…
this
, too.” I sat back, the space between us humming with pure, unfiltered desire. “Even if I’ve never felt it…
this
…before.”

His eyes opened, the need in his gaze boring into mine.

Keep breathing
. “I know we can’t. And we won’t. Not tonight. But I want to. With you,” I murmured.

He swallowed, the muscle in his jaw twitching and his mouth pressed flat.

Way to lay it all out there
.
What am I doing?
“Was that the wrong thing to say?” I whispered.

“No.” The word was pinched.

I reached out, searching for his hand. His fingers wrapped around mine. He hesitated for a second before he drew me against him. Somehow this felt different. Maybe it was because I felt every inch of him pressed up against me. Maybe it was because I wanted more.

A strange little sound came from him, part growl, part laugh. I shivered…the sound amping up the already crazy intensity between us.

“Are you okay?” I asked, turning my face into his chest, brushing my nose over his collar bone, and breathing deep. He shivered this time.

“Not sure,” he admitted. “You just told me you wanted us to…well, that you…want me.”

My face felt hot. At least he couldn’t see my flaming cheeks in the dark. Besides, my face was basically buried in his chest. “Yeah…I guess I did. I do.”

There was that little growl again and then he cleared his throat. His hand slid up my back, under my hair, to rest at the base of my neck. “Kinda surprised,” he whispered, pulling me closer to him.

“In a good way?” I managed before his lips closed over mine.

I was gripping his shoulders then, pressing myself close as his hand slid up and into my hair, holding me. His other hand pressed against my thigh, his callused fingers stroking my skin, unsteady and amazing.

We fell back onto the bed. I’m not sure which of us made that happen…but once we were there, our hands were searching, our mouths were locked together, and our bodies couldn’t seem to be close enough—even though there wasn’t much between us.

When he rested between my legs, I felt a flare of nerves. He wasn’t naked, neither was I, but there was no mistaking that things were getting carried away. He rocked against me, his back flexing beneath my hands, his arms bracing him over me. I couldn’t tell who was breathing harder, me or him. All I could do was
feel
. His skin, his muscles, his breath, the way he pressed against me. It was overwhelming, and wonderful, and desperate—heat raged in my blood.

“Allie,” he rasped, his hands cradling my face. “I don’t want to rush this.”

I heard him, but my body was still on fire. My knees pressed against his hips, my fingers slid through his short hair, pulling his lips back to mine. His kiss was soft, his lips lingering…before he groaned and flopped onto his back beside me.

I wanted to cry. I was gasping for breath, my hands gripping the sheets at my sides. Part of me, a little tiny part buried deep down inside, was relieved. He was right. We didn’t need to rush things. Was I ready for
sex
with him, now? I didn’t know. Did I
want
to? Yes. More than anything I’d ever wanted. I took a deep breath.
Definitely.

He slid his arm beneath my head and pulled me against his side. We lay that way for a while, but the pull was too hard. When my hand rested on his chest, his heart picked up. When he turned his nose into my hair, I slid closer to him. The tension was too strong to ignore.

He slipped from the bed, pulling Grandma’s old rocking chair to the bedside. He pulled the extra quilt off the wrought-iron footboard and sat in the chair.

“You can’t sleep in that,” I argued.

He laughed, low and soft. “I can’t stay in bed with you.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. “I’ll go back to my room.” The storm was still raging, but so was my pulse.
This is ridiculous.

“Stay,” he said, taking my hand in his. “I’ve slept in rougher spots than this.”

“Like?” I said, rolling onto my side to face him.

He yawned. “Horse trailers. I can’t always find a motel room floor to sleep on.” He rubbed a hand over his face.

I sighed. “That chair is wood. At least you had some hay in a horse trailer.”

“And horse shit,” he added.

We both laughed.

“Get some sleep, Allie. I’m here,” he promised, squeezing my hand.

I squeezed his hand, staring at him until my eyes wouldn’t stay open any longer.

***

“Allie?” Someone yelled.

The coo of a dove. Pickett barking.

I opened my eyes, exhausted—disoriented.

I glanced over at Wyatt, still in the rocking chair. He was sound asleep, his chin on his chest, leaning towards the bed. He’d have a crick in his neck this morning.

“Allie!” Again. Not dreaming? Footsteps on the stairs.

I realized what was happening as Wyatt’s door opened. My father stood there, his hair on end, his face pale. When he saw me, he froze. A ragged breath escaped, his chest rising and falling so quickly I worried he was having a heart attack.

“Dad?” I sat up, wary. I was in Wyatt’s room… Shit.

He walked into the room, his eyes never leaving my face. When he reached the side of the bed, he sat, grabbing me by the shoulders. “You were gone.”

My heart was lodged in my throat.

“I went to your room.” His voice was gravel, rough and uneven. “You were gone. I thought…I thought you ran away.”

I swallowed against the burn in my eyes.

My father—who never cried—had tears in his eyes. “That you left, in a storm.”

“I’m here.” I forced the words out. “I’m right here.”

He shook his head, his hands slipping from my shoulders. “I…I…”

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m here. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.” I meant every word, taking his hand in both of mine. “For everything.”

We stayed that way for a while—him looking at me, me holding his hand. I could tell he wanted more, a hug maybe—something. But we’d spent too long keeping our distance for that kind of contact, which was sad. Dad had always given great big bear hugs.

“Your mom’s made breakfast,” he murmured, pulling back. “Go on and get dressed.” For the first time he acknowledged Wyatt. I waited for the tirade, the hostility, but Dad just nodded at him.
Interesting
.

I pulled the blanket around me and slid to the edge of the bed. Following Dad from the room seemed like the right thing to do, so I did, even though I wanted to say something to Wyatt. At the same time, I didn’t want to push it. Dad was handling my spending the night in Wyatt’s room with remarkable calm. I really wanted to keep it that way.

Dad gave me an awkward one arm hug before he let me go up to my room. Once the door was shut, I stood there, stunned. So many changes… Today was a new beginning, I could tell. It was time for me to get it together, be positive, be thankful. I had everything I could ever want or need.

“Good morning,” I said to the posters of Abbie Wambach, Mia Hamm, and Maroon 5 on my walls. I knew I was smiling like an idiot but I didn’t care. Even the fact that I had a killer physics test tomorrow and a five-page literature paper due Wednesday that I hadn’t yet started couldn’t chase away my grin.

I opened my closet and stood back. This week was all about Homecoming. I might be a reluctant Lady Cat, but I felt the need to show school spirit. Our colors were black and silver, so I tugged a black lace-up t-shirt from its hanger. I dressed quickly, tugged on jeans, black canvas flats, and silver hoop earrings. I brushed my hair out, put on a headband then took it out, before heading to the kitchen for breakfast.

Dax was sagging on his elbow—more asleep than awake.

Mom was bustling around. “Morning, Allie.”

“Morning.” I didn’t care that I sounded almost as chipper as she did.

Dad set his paper down and smiled at me. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” I answered. “Black Falls colors. Homecoming week, you know. And our team totally doesn’t suck.”

“Good to know.” Dad nodded, sipping his coffee, still smiling.

Dax perked up then, looking from me to Dad with narrowed eyes. “Where am I?”

I laughed, rolling my eyes.

My gaze wandered around the kitchen. No Wyatt. I felt a twinge of guilt for keeping him up so late, but… I smiled as I pulled a bowl from the cabinet.

“Eggs and bacon and biscuits okay?” Mom chattered away. “Scrambled—your favorite.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I smiled, noticing the flowers on the table for the first time.

“Seriously,” Dax insisted, “I’m confused.”

Mom patted me on the shoulder, then leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “It’s important to start the day off right.”

“Looks great, June,” Dad added.

Dax leaned back in his seat, scrubbed his hand over his face a few times, and shook his head. “Crazy storm last night. Were you guys electrocuted or something?”

Dad laughed, shaking his head. I saw him glance at me. It hurt to think he’d believe I hated him enough to leave in a storm. They all knew how storms wigged me out. That was what had earned me my sleeping pill prescription. I thought he didn’t worry over me anymore.
Because I’m stupid
.
He’s my dad. He’ll always care and worry about me.
I was lucky.

“It was pretty bad. Everyone sleep okay?” Mom asked, her worried blue eyes turning my way.

I shrugged, careful not to look at Dad as I confessed, “It did wake me up.”

“Morning.” Wyatt came in, his hair wet and his eyes bright.

“Morning,” Mom answered him, pointing to his chair with her spatula. “Lots of breakfast this morning.”

“Something weird is going on,” Dax whispered loudly. “Everyone’s getting along. So…I’m still asleep? This is all a dream?”

Wyatt sat, laughing a little at Dax.

Sitting there, seeing the smiling faces of my family gathered around the kitchen table,
was
almost dreamlike. Dad looked at Wyatt, then at me, before he turned back to his paper and coffee—a small smile on his face. He didn’t seem angry, just…relieved.

I glanced at Wyatt. He gave me a look, a slow smile that lit him up from the inside. If he wasn’t such a guy’s guy, I’d say he was beautiful. But I couldn’t—he wouldn’t take it as a compliment. He was a cowboy. Were cowboys beautiful?

Screw it. You’re beautiful.

“Letter on the counter for you.” Dad glanced at me.

I leaned over, grabbing the letter. It was from Texas A&M. I glanced at Dad, at Mom. They were both looking at me, waiting. I sat, terrified.

Mom passed the bowl of scrambled eggs around the table. “When did you get in, Wyatt?”

“Around midnight.” Wyatt passed the bowl on. “Hope I didn’t wake anyone.”

“With that storm going on?” Dad shook his head, glancing at my letter.

“Sleep okay?” Mom asked.

“Rough start, but I slept like a log, ma’am.”

She laughed. “Good. Dax is falling asleep at the table. Bacon? Biscuits are almost ready.”

“I’m awake now, I
think
. I need food,” Dax said.

My hands were shaking as I opened the letter.
Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you…
I dropped the letter onto the table.

“Well?” Dad asked.

Everyone looked at me then. “It’s an acceptance letter,” I managed.

“From?” Wyatt asked.

“Texas A&M,” my dad answered for me.

Mom jumped up and hugged me. “Congrats, honey.”

“She tell you she got into SMU too?” Dax asked, shoveling pancakes into his mouth.

My parents exchanged a look. “No,” Dad said and sighed. “Guess I know which you’re going to pick.”

I looked at the letter. “Not so sure. Both have good programs…but only one has the graduate program I need.”

“And free rent,” Dad added.

I smiled at him. He and Mom had bought a four-bedroom house on a small piece of property which they rented to vet students. He’d made no secret about wanting Dax and me to use it when we went there—not that either one of us had listened. Until now.
“You won’t charge me rent?”

“Hell, I might even go to A&M,” Dax said between bites.

“I’d like that.” Dad looked around the table. “All of you kids, looking out for each other.”

“It’s your choice, Allie.” Mom patted my hand before she passed the bacon to Wyatt.

Wyatt took the plate of bacon, his gaze never leaving my face. “Thanks, Dr. Cooper.”

“You can call me June, Wyatt. Dr. Cooper seems so formal. Especially over breakfast.”

He looked uncomfortable as he said, “I’ll try.”

Mom laughed. “You don’t
have
to.”

Pickett was barking like crazy. He stopped, then started again, whimpering now and then. “Excuse me.” Wyatt scooted his chair back and headed to the door. “Pickett,” he hissed.

Pickett whimpered and stopped. But as soon as Wyatt opened the door, he was barking like crazy again.

“Better go see what’s up,” Wyatt explained. “Snake or raccoon or something, probably.”