Page 2 of A Forever Kind of Rancher

He’d never witnessed anything concrete—if he did he’d be the first one to tell Wendy—but Boone had always had the feeling Daniel took his marriage vows as suggestions when he was on the road with the rodeo.

Not only that, Daniel missed a lot of his kids’ milestones, not that Boone had any kids. Not that he was in a position to judge. It was only that he did judge.

Because he wanted what his friend had so very badly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

He knew she wouldn’t answer that. Because she wouldn’t admit it.

Never.

And maybe they never danced. But they knew this particular dance well. They’d been doing it for fifteen years.

“Nothing is wrong,” she said, linking her fingers behind his neck, and he wasn’t sure if she was preparing to strangle him, or trying to keep herself from moving her hands over his body and exploring him.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

She paused for a second. “Boone...”

“Where is Daniel?”

“Drinking,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes defiant, as if she was daring him to comment.

He didn’t have to. Instead, he moved his hand just a little bit lower on her back.

Her nostrils flared, and he even thought that was hot.

“If he’s drinking, then he won’t miss you.”

And why the hell should Daniel have her anyway? He didn’t fucking care about her. Boone was almost certain that every time he went out drinking with the guys, Daniel was screwing around with buckle bunnies. There was no way he was only dancing with them at the jukebox. Boone could never bear to stick around and find out, because he would have to tell Wendy, and his loyalty was supposed to be to Daniel, but he was at a point where he didn’t feel like it could be. Not anymore. And he’d told himself he could not feel that way, and he couldn’t act in the way he wanted to, because he had an ulterior motive. But now he didn’t care. Right at this moment, none of it mattered.

“Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?”

Slowly, very slowly, she shook her head no. And he led her off the dance floor, out of the barn and into the night. And in one wild, feverish moment, he pushed his best friend’s wife back against the side of the barn and pressed his mouth against hers.

Boone woke up with sweat drenching his body.

Dammit.

For a second, he let the dream play in his mind over and over again.

It was the sliding door. The other path.

The one he had decidedly not taken at his brother’s wedding, when he had gazed across the barn and seen Wendy looking like a snack that night.

He hadn’t even danced with her. Why? Because he’d known he was too close to losing control. But in his dreams...

In his dreams he held that pretty pink slice of glory in his hands. In his dreams, he had pushed her warm willing body up against that barn and tasted her mouth.

It was so real. It was so real he could scarcely believe it hadn’t happened.

Damn it and him, to hell.

He was wrung out. It was all the sleeping in cheap-ass motels.

---