Cowboys & Kisses (26 page)

When he looked at me, I could tell that I wasn’t the only one eaten up by this all-consuming need. He dropped a soft kiss against my mouth, then another.

I wound my arms around his neck. “Don’t be sorry,” I whispered against his lips, the tip of my tongue brushing against his lower lip. I hadn’t planned on doing it, it just happened. And once it had, I knew I was testing both our control. We were moving, lying back on the truck seat, pressed together…

He made a strange noise then sat up, putting space between us. “Damn.”

I lay there, panting. “
I’m
sorry.” My voice shook. He reached out, not looking at me. He didn’t mean to touch the exposed skin of my stomach. But that’s exactly where his hand landed—his roughened palm on my soft stomach.

He looked just as surprised, his eyes glued to his hand. He was red-cheeked and breathing hard. I covered his hand with my own, lifting it, pressing it over my heart. I don’t know why I did it, but I did.

He sat there, staring into my eyes, so beautiful I wanted to climb into his lap…or stay right here, staring at him staring back at me.

He pulled me up, ran his fingers along my cheek, and kissed me once before he started the truck. Once we were off, his arm draped—comfortably—around my shoulders.

Pickett barked, so I glanced out the back window, the “I Support Second Base” sticker catching my eye. I giggled.

“What?” Wyatt asked.

“Nothing.”

He backed up, shifting the truck into first gear. His arm brushed against my chest, making me laugh again. “You’re laughing.” I nodded. “About?”

He shifted gears. Another brush.

“Your bumper sticker,” I admitted, smiling.

He looked at it. “What about it?”

He shifted gears again and I shot him a meaningful look. “Um, really?”

He looked honestly confused.

“I thought you were kind of a dick when I saw that sticker,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“You’re advertising you’re a boob man.” I felt really awkward having this conversation.

He shifted gears again, glancing at my chest. “I didn’t know I was.”

“Good answer.” I smiled, leaning against him. “Why the sticker, then?”

“My mom put it on my truck.”

I glanced up at him. “Oh.” That was kind of weird.

“I told her no pink, but that made her laugh, so…” He shrugged. “She had stickers on just about every car in town before it was all over.” He sounded proud of her. “She went down fighting.”

I froze, unable to look away from him.
Pink. I Support Second Base. She went down fighting
. I couldn’t move.
Shit. No.
Even my heart seemed to stop—before pain kicked in big time.

I replayed all the snippets of conversation that hadn’t made sense. Tragedy. Heartache. Don’t know how he’s managed to stay so positive.

Oh God no. Wyatt… It’s not fair.

He looked at me. “Allie?”

I nodded, blinked.

He checked behind us then pulled the truck off the road, onto the brush-covered shoulder of the country road. The truck bounced a few feet before he put it into park. “Allie?”

I shook my head.
Shit. Say something.

“What’s wrong?” He sounded worried, urgent.

Breathe, Allie. This isn’t about you. Be here for him. Give him what
he
needs.
“I’m so sorry, Wyatt.” I sounded like I was choking. “I didn’t know.”

The shift of emotion on his face was intense. Worry. Confusion. Then horrible realization. “Fuck, Allie.” His voice was low, almost apologetic. “I thought you knew.”

“No, no, I…” I shook my head, wishing my voice wasn’t so high. “I… Oh, Wyatt.”

He looked through the windshield, his voice soft. “Small town, people talk—all the time. Still, I should have said something.”

I couldn’t seem to stop shaking my head. “Why would you? It’s…how…” I mumbled to a stop. “Sorry. I’m just…God, I’m so
so
sorry.”

He looked at me then, the slight sheen of moisture in his copper eyes my undoing.

“Wyatt.” I turned to him. “I wish I’d known her. I’d tell her what…what an amazing son she has.” My voice broke. “But she knows…I know it.” It wasn’t enough, even though there was nothing I could say that would ever be enough. “You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You know that?”

He shook his head. “I’m just me.”

“Exactly. You are…awesome.” Still not enough. He
was
awesome—and so much more. “Everything.”

His hand rested against my cheek, his gaze holding mine. “I love you, Allie.”

I climbed into his lap, facing him, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him as tight as I could. I pressed my face against his neck, breathing his scent deep. I didn’t know if touching me comforted him the way it did me, but I hoped it did.

His arms were like steel bands around my waist. His chest rose and fell, unevenly. His breath blew hot and fast against my neck. I wanted to cry.
For
him.

The last six months had been all about me. If I was being honest, it had been the last three years. How or when I’d let myself believe that I was the center of the fricking universe, I wasn’t sure.
I don’t deserve him.

He was dealing with a son-of-a-bitch father
and
the loss of his mother. He was alone and functioning, a kind, positive person. I was surrounded by people who loved me, who were hurting because of me, and I never once thought about them.

I couldn’t ease my hold on Wyatt. I didn’t want to. He was this remarkable guy-man-cowboy…who loved me.
Me
.

I had it all. Everything. It was time I started appreciating it.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you so much.”

His arms tightened, making it a little hard to breathe. I didn’t mind. How long had it been since someone had held him, loved him, and let him know it? I’d stay like this until he ended it, because this was exactly where I wanted—needed—to be.

I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.
My eyes were burning.

I don’t know how long we ended up staying like that. Being in his arms was my favorite place to be. His hold eased slowly, his hands smoothing over the fabric of my shirt. When he raised his head, I saw the moisture on his cheeks.

I kissed him, a soft kiss, and he shook his head.

“You start kissing me and we’ll never get to your folks’ place.” His gaze traveled over my face, slowly. “We should go.”

“Okay.” I nodded, slipping from his lap. “Let’s go.” I sat as close to him as I possibly could, not willing to sever all contact.

He started the truck and pulled back onto the road, driving the short trip to my parents’ house. Pickett jumped out of the back of the truck as soon as we stopped, barking.

Wyatt opened his door. “Pickett,” he said softly. Pickett stopped barking. I laughed. “You need to learn some manners,” Wyatt said to the dog as he slid out of the truck.

“Manners?” I asked, following him.

Wyatt walked around to the back of the truck, Pickett at his heels. “He’s a good dog. Just gets worked up sometimes.”

I smiled at the two of them. Pickett was watching Wyatt’s every move. When Wyatt looked at the dog, the dog sat, ears perked forward, waiting. “He sure loves you.” I smiled, following them to the end of the truck.

Wyatt slid his suitcase to the end of the truck bed.

“I’ll get it,” I offered, lifting the bag.

“Thank you,” he said, sliding the wooden trunk forward and hoisting it onto his shoulder.

“Got it?” I asked.

“Need help?” Dad was there.

“No, sir, thanks. Where should I—”

“This way,” I said, knowing he’d follow me.

As soon as he put his trunk in the room, he went out to the barn with my father.

“Help with dinner?” Mom asked. I nodded. “Feel up to making the chicken?” I nodded again. “Everything okay?” Her blue eyes watched me closely.

“I’m good, Mom. Really good.” I hugged her then, tight. I felt her stiffen and knew I’d surprised her. She hugged me back, enveloping me in her familiar floral scent—her comforting embrace. I pressed a kiss to her soft cheek and stepped back. “I’ll set the table first?”

“That would be great.” I could tell she was still grappling with my unexpected affection. “Five places.”

I smiled. “Yep.”

***

“If the whole sports medicine thing doesn’t work out, you can open a fried chicken place,” Dax said, his mouth full.

“Gosh, thanks.” I grimaced. “I would’ve been fine with you swallowing first.”

“Really, Dax.” Mom sighed. “That’s disgusting.”

I glanced at Wyatt, who was smiling as he said, “Main Street doesn’t have a chicken place.”

I shook my head. “Guess it’s good to have a back-up plan.”

“What classes are you taking this year?” Dad asked Wyatt.

Wyatt swallowed and took a sip of iced tea before he answered. “Calculus, physics, English, government… Think that’s it.”

“Physics?” Dax shuddered. “Why?” Wyatt laughed, shrugging.

“Good for you, Wyatt.” Mom nodded. “Getting into the vet program is hard. Any advantage you can get is a smart move.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wyatt’s gaze lingered on my mom.

My chest felt heavy, achy. Mom didn’t see how much that slight praise meant to him, but I did. For the second time that day I was reminded how lucky I was. Not only did I have two parents who loved me
and
a dork-brother best friend, I loved a boy who knew what love really was—a boy who was teaching me to love.

“Maybe you can help me with Calculus?” I asked him. “Math is my…weakness.”

Dax snorted. “Weakness? It’s going to be a lot harder to find a tutor here than it was in Dallas.”

“No more chicken for you.” I reached across the table toward his plate.

“Hey!” He swatted my hand.

I laughed and sat back.

“Behave,” Mom chided us half-heartedly, smiling.

“I
can
help, actually,” Wyatt said, grinning. “Math isn’t a problem. Writing papers—research papers—different story.”

“
I
can help with that.” I sat forward, smiling broadly at him.

“I’d like that.” His voice was soft. His warm copper gaze traveled over my face, making me sigh.

“What time does school start in the morning?” Dad asked, breaking our moment.

Wyatt turned to my father. “Eight-thirty.”

“Not too bad,” Dax murmured.

“Don’t sound too excited.” I forgot, for that split second, that he and Molly weren’t…he and Molly. “It’ll be good, Dax. We haven’t met everyone in the senior class.” I paused, looking to Wyatt then. “Have we?”

Wyatt shook his head. “No. Most of ’em, but not all.”

“Is Cannon McCracken a senior?” Dax asked.

Wyatt looked at me, then Dax, a frown on his face. “No. He graduated last year.”

When Wyatt’s gaze returned to me, I shrugged a little. Wyatt’s frown remained, but he didn’t say anything.

“Who’s Cannon?” Mom asked.

“Some…some guy,” Dax mumbled. “I’m stuffed.” He stood, taking his plate to the sink.

“I know it’s early,” Dad said and stood, following Dax’s lead, “but I don’t want you staying up too late. Eleven, no later.”

“Work?” Mom asked, her blue eyes following my father.

He nodded at her then winked. “Won’t take long.” He turned to Wyatt. “You can use any of my tools you need. Just be careful.”

“Thank you. Mr. Cooper. Dr. Cooper. I can’t thank you enough for taking me in.” He stood, shaking my father’s hand.

Mom came around the table and hugged him. “I want you to think of this as your home now, too. We’re lucky to have you, Wyatt.”

“Yes, we are,” I whispered softly.

Dax squeezed my shoulder. “Keep looking at him like that and he’s going to have a hard time being the good guy.”

I frowned. “I didn’t mean to be so…insensitive, Dax. I know tomorrow’s going to be harder now.”

He shrugged. “I’m going out to the barn to work for a while.”

After I’d cleaned up the kitchen—I couldn’t cook without using almost every pan in the kitchen—I turned off the kitchen light and went outside to check on the boys in the barn.

Mom was sitting in a wicker chair on the side of the wrap-around porch. I was surprised to see Pickett sleeping by her feet. Apparently, Pickett felt at home too. Being happy felt so fricking good.

“Allie,” Mom asked, “is Dax okay?”

Less happy now.
Poor Dax
. “Did you talk to him?”

“I
tried
, but he told me being moody was part of being a teenager.” She sighed. “He’s very good at using humor to get out of difficult conversations.”

“I think it’s awesome. I wish I could laugh the hard stuff off, instead of turning evil and spewing venom.”

Mom stared at me with round blue eyes. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

“He’ll be okay.” I tried again. “I think…I think he’s going through…
something
. But I don’t
think
we need to worry.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “But you’ll let me know?”

“If we need to worry? Oh, yeah, definitely. I won’t hesitate to call in reinforcements.”

“Good.” She paused. “Can I… You’re… You seem good.” I heard the fear in her voice and hated myself all over again.

“Mom,” I said, watching her stiffen a little, “I know I’ve been…well, a bitch. And I know that Lindie…that—somehow—Lindie’s death kind of made me being a bitch okay, even though it’s
not
. Losing her hurts, a lot, every day, but that’s a really lame-ass excuse for treating you guys the way I have.” I hugged myself. “And I’m sorry for that. I’m really sorry.”

Mom looked like she was carved from stone. She didn’t blink. She didn’t look like she was breathing.

“Mom?” I took a few steps closer to her.

“Allie…” Her voice broke and she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees and her hands over her face.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m just… Today kind of made my self-centeredness glaringly obvious. I’m really…I’m happy you’re my mom. That I have you.”

Her shoulders were shaking now, so I knelt in front of her—careful not to squish Pickett—and hugged her. Her arms went around me as she sobbed.