Page 49 of Homebound

It’s the truth.

I was raised by two women, and let me tell you, when it came time for the birds and the bees talk, they got way too graphic, detailed, and personal.

We stare at each other for a moment, but then she glances over my shoulder at something and shakes her head. “Okay, um, well, good to know, but I don’t need the details about your love life. Emmylou’s walking over here. You should tell her I’m your cousin so she doesn’t think we’re together.”

“Yeah, there’s no chance in hell I’m telling her that.”

“Then tell her I’m your second cousin,” she whispers as Emmylou beelines across the dance floor.

“Sorry. Not doing that either.”

Emmylou walks up to us with a shy smile, and Dakota introduces me. “Emmylou! You look amazing tonight. Love the jean jumpsuit. This is my third cousin, Wyatt. He’s a two-stepping king.”

“No,” I cut across her. “We’re not blood related. At all.”

Dakota glares at me.

I smirk right back.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Wyatt. Would you like to dance?” Emmylou asks, batting her lashes. “Given you’re a two-stepping king and all.”

She looks up at me, and she really is cute with her freckles and blue eyes, but I don’t get that same nervous-nauseous flutter I’ve had for years with Dakota.

I’m about to let her down easy when Dakota practically kicks us onto the dance floor. “Go. Dance. Get married.”

I shoot her a scowl over my shoulder, which she returns with a wink. I count about ten cowboys already eyeing her up.

One of them lets his eyes roam a little too far down her body and starts making his way to her. Yeah, I’m not letting that happen, so we’re leaving. I wrap my arm around Dakota’s waist, trying to let Emmylou down easy.

“Actually,” I say, tightening my arm around Dakota’s curves. “We were just heading out. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Dakota’s brows jump in surprise. “Honey? Since when do you call me honey?”

I’ve always wanted to call her that, so I keep my gaze on her, leaning in so my stubble brushes her cheek. “Since right now, honey. Let’s get out of here. Just you and me. The sun hasn’t set yet, and my mom already tucked Vi into bed, so how about we go to our old spot? There’s only one cowgirl I want to be with tonight.”

19

OUR SPOT

DAKOTA

Honey.

It’s new, but surprisingly, I don’t hate when Patterson calls me that. No man’s ever given me a sweet pea nickname before. People always give me ones like Cutler or Cowboy Killer, but honey is… cute.

Girly.

I’ve never been girly to anyone.

“Oh my god, Patterson,” I say as we drive. “Do you remember that time you got arrested in South Padre for drunk peeing on the beach and made me bail you out of jail? What’s with you and drunk peeing?”

He gives me a sidelong grin. “Hey, I’ve got better bladder control now, so how about we move past that?”

“Okay, I’ll try, but it’s still one of my favorite memories, bailing you out. We blasted Sturgill Simpson into the sunrise the entire drive home.”

The hot wind whips through the open windows as he drives down back roads to our old spot at Cibolo Creek, the sunset spraying us with orange rays. He’s got one arm draped over the steering wheel, and the other is rubbing distracting circles on my upper thigh.

It’s how we always used to drive. Except, come to think of it, he always had his hand on my knee, not my thigh, growing up. And those tiny circles used to be comfortable, not blazing my skin. But it is a million degrees outside. Sweat won’t stop dripping down the back of my neck.