Page 108 of Homebound

His hands find the backs of my knees, lifting me effortlessly until I’m sitting on the front porch railing. Coming closer, instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist as I anchor myself to him, using my fingers to latch onto his hair. I tug on the strands, desperate, and I can feel him hardening against me, right over my center.

I try to move, just needing friction to ease this building ache. My nipples stiffen to peaks, and I can feel this clawing heat sinking lower and lower, pooling between my thighs, and then, all of a sudden, he drops me back down on the porch.

“But the next time you meet up with him,” he growls, his breath almost as heavy as mine. “I hope you’re still thinking about that kiss.”

43

THE SCOUT

WYATT

I’m jealous as hell—there, I admit the damn thing.

I’m trying not to show it because I don’t want Vienna growing up thinking that’s the sign of a healthy relationship, but it turns out that I’m jealous about everything when it comes to Dakota. More than anything, it’s annoying, so I’m doing my best to ignore the feeling.

The next day, I head straight to the rodeo grounds to hunt down the scout, with every intent of doing whatever it takes to get him to come back next weekend to watch Dakota compete at the Granite Falls rodeo.

I draw the line at sexual favors because the only person I’m getting on my knees for is her, but I’m willing to do pretty much anything other than that.

After three hours of back-and-forth negotiation, a lot of schmoozing (mostly about his llama farm), and a fair amount of begging, I finally convince him to come to the Granite Falls rodeo next weekend to watch Dakota compete.

“Thank you, sir,” I say, shaking his calloused hand. “You won’t regret watching her. She’s a sight to behold.”

His gray mustache twitches with a grunt. “I better not.”

“You won’t.”

Pride swells in my chest as I strut back to my truck with the birds chirping, the sun shining, until I run smack into Boone Bowman’s black cowboy hat in the middle of the rodeo’s parking lot. That damn toothpick nearly pokes my eye out.

His eyes narrow under the shade of his hat. “Patterson.”

“Bowman.”

We stare each other down, neither of us willing to break first.

I never much liked the guy.

He has an ego bigger than Texas and thinks he’s hot shit because he never misses a shot to flaunt that his dad is on the board of directors at Regal Ranch, as if that makes him some kind of cowboy royalty. I never understood what Dakota saw in him. She doesn’t care much about money, so maybe he’s got something decent hiding beneath his all-black getup—not that I care to find out.

I start to head to my truck, but his bitter voice stops me in my tracks. “You know she’s just gonna leave you, too, right? That woman can’t be tamed. She’ll leave your heart broken like she left mine.”

If he means to set me off, it won’t work. I turn around as slow as possible, letting my eyes travel over him from hat to boots. “See, that’s the difference between you and me, Bowman. I’d never try to tame her. The only thing you can do is hold on tight to women like her.”

With that, I head to my truck, but not before Boone calls out behind me. “I’m gettin’ her back, Patterson! I fucked up, but I’m gonna make it right.”

My fists clench. “Like hell you are. I’m better for her than you ever were.”

I slam the door with more force than usual. The engine roars to life, and I take the backroads home because I need to cool down after that.

As I drive down the winding Texas roads, I can already feel myself relaxing. The sunset paints the sky with flames. The vast expanse of open land stretches out, dotted with grazing cattle. I drive ten under the speed limit, soaking up the beauty as the warm breeze blows through the open windows of my truck, carrying the scent of wildflowers.

I can’t wait to come back.

Texas has always been more than a home. It’s my favorite escape. The pace is slower. The people smile more. It’s a place to come back to when the daily grind of training, workouts, and stress gets to be too much.

By the time I pull up to the barn, I’m already feeling more levelheaded.

I spot Dakota watering the pot of mint leaves on the front porch, dressed in nothing but her sports bra and shorts. The late afternoon sun bathes her in gold, making the sweat on her skin shine. She’s sipping her carbonated water, and she’s clearly just finished a workout.