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Kinsley
Icouldn’t fathom what my dad had said to Wyatt, but on the ride back to the ranch, Wyatt was quiet. As we got the horses untacked and turned out, he was so lost in thought that I doubted anything short of a dynamite blast would reach him.
Watching him intently, I waited for a chance to ask what was going on.
Dad passed by, shaking his head at me. “Leave him be, Kinsley. He’s processing.”
“Processing what?” I called out after him, but Dad kept walking, tossing a simple “Patience, sweetheart,” over his shoulder.
I exhaled a frustrated huff. All I wanted was for Wyatt to open up to me, preferably right now.
Resigned, I planted myself on a bale of hay outside the barn, waiting. My toe tapped impatiently on the dirt as time dragged on.
At last, I heard Wyatt’s boots on the concrete of the barn aisle. I shot up, turning to face him. His strides were determined as he closed the distance between us, his penetrating brown eyes locking onto mine.
Before I could speak, his hands found my waist, pulling me flush against his body. The air left my lungs in a sharp exhale as Wyatt’s lips crashed onto mine with an urgency that stole my breath.
I melted into his embrace, pouring every ounce of the longing that had been simmering for too long into that kiss. My fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as our mouths moved together. Wyatt’s hands roamed over my back, his calloused fingers igniting sparks everywhere they touched. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I readily parted them, deepening our kiss with a soft moan of pleasure. His grip tightened, pulling me even closer until there was no space left between us.
When we finally tore apart, our chests heaving, Wyatt’s forehead pressed to mine. The charged air around us crackled with newfound electricity as his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch featherlight.
“Finally,” I breathed out, my voice shaking.
“I’m sorry. I’m a stubborn jackass,” he said.
“Well, at least you’re self-aware,” I replied.
Wyatt chuckled and kissed me again.
“What did my dad say to you?”
“That if I want you, I have to want this ranch too and I need to earn it. And you. Here, not out there.”
A small smile played across my lips. “My dad is a pretty smart guy.”
“Apparently so.”
“So, does this mean you’re staying?” My heart fluttered with cautious hope.
He cupped my face, brushing his thumb over my cheekbone. “Let’s win a few more rodeos. Then, we’ll figure out what our future holds. Together.”
The promise in his words warmed me to the core. “Deal.” I rose on my tiptoes to brush my lips against his once more.
The rest of the evening passed in a bit of a dream-like haze. We cuddled together on the couch, watching one of Mom and Dad’s old westerns, but I barely registered the movie. All I could focus on was the feeling of Wyatt’s arm around me and the slow stroke of his fingers against my thigh under the blanket we shared. The restraint of being under my parents’ watchful eyes only amplified my growing ache for him.
When I stole glances up at Wyatt, his face was an impassive mask of concentration, fixed on the screen. But the glaze in his eyes betrayed the battle he was waging with his own restraint.
As the credits rolled, we made a show of exaggerated yawns and stretches before bidding my parents good night.
The second we were out of their line of sight, our lips crashed together. We were a whirlwind of roaming hands and tangled limbs, desperate to touch and be touched after denying ourselves for too long. We stumbled blindly towards my bedroom, our bodies still entwined.
In our frenzied haste, I misjudged the distance, and Wyatt’s head cracked against the wall with a dull thud.
“Ow!” He winced, rubbing the back of his head.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” I grimaced.
Wyatt just shrugged it off and leaned in to recapture my lips, but Dad’s voice interrupted us, echoing down the hallway. “Good night, you two!”
