Page 33 of Wild Horses

I arch an eyebrow. “How do you know that? Did you two bond while I was racing?”

“Only over you. But she’d like him because you do.” Dad’s knees creak as he rises off the tiny loveseat. “You take the bed; you need your beauty sleep.”

A snort pulls from my lips. “Ha! Good one, old man. I heard every bone in your body crack when you got up. I’ll pull out the sofa.”

He hesitates like he’s ready to argue, but when I jut out my chin, he knows I won’t bend.

Waving a hand, Dad says, “Alright, you stubborn mule. I’ll take the big bed tonight, but tomorrow I’ll get a hotel. In case you, um, need privacy.”

I cover my face with my hands. “Oh my god, Dad. Stop. Right now. Before I die and never get to go to breakfast with War or win a title.”

“Interesting order you put those in.”

It takes me a second to process what he means. Then it hits me: I put a date with War before winning the NRF, and it bothers me way less than I expect.

It’s five till eight, and War isn’t here. I pace back and forth infront of the arena entrance, self-soothing with the fact he’s not late. Not yet, anyway.

I scan the parking lot, searching for a flashy sports car. I have no idea what he drives, but I’m sure it’s high end. A horrible thought grips me as I make my tenth circuit from one end of the entry gate to the other. What if this is payback for leaving him alone in Mel’s motel?

He wouldn’t plan all this just to stand me up. Right? I mean, I wouldn’t blame him… No. I shake all those doubts from my head. He’s coming. He wants to see me. To get to know me.

At eight on the dot, a slate gray Bronco pulls up to the curb, and War hops out.

“You ready to go?” he asks as he opens the passenger door for me.

Like an idiot, I stand on the sidewalk, looking from him to the expensive SUV and back. He groomed his beard and styled his hair away from his face. He’s casually dressed but already looks more like the man I met in Dallas.

Not that he wasn’t delicious as a rumpled mountain man.

I blurt, “You trimmed your beard.”

War rubs his hand over his chin. “Yeah, it was getting out of hand. I hadn’t done anything to it in, um, well, since…” He trails off then gives me a sheepish grin. “My sister says I look like a yeti. She’ll be thrilled I pared it back.”

Stepping into his space, I run my fingers over the soft hair. “I like it. You look rugged.”

“So, not your Pretty Boy anymore?”

The use ofyourisn’t lost on me, and my heart skips a beat. “You’ll always be my Pretty Boy.” I breathe the words against his lips. When did we get so close?

A sound—half moan, half growl—rumbles up from War’s chest, and then his hands are on my hips, anchoring me tohim. The kiss is all-consuming. Fervent. He savors my lips as if I hold every truth he’s ever searched for.

I don’t care that it’s eight in the morning. That we’re standing in the parking lot of a rodeo arena in Lubbock. That we have so much to figure out. All I know is this man is mine, and I’m not letting him go.

War breaks the kiss with a curse. “Shit, sweetheart.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I wasn’t planning to do that.”

“Kiss me?”

“At least not until I fed you.”

My fingers trace up his nape and grasp the hair at his collar. “Then let’s get me fed.” With a wink, I hop into the passenger seat and raise my eyebrows at him. “Coming?”

He barks out a loud laugh. “Such a smart ass.” The door shuts, and I appreciate the way he jogs around the car. Those extra pounds look good on him.

We get about a mile down the road, both of us making silly, meaningless chit-chat. It’s nice—less awkward standing around the pool and more dipping a toe in the water.

Then War dives into the deep end. “So, what’s the sleeping situation?”

I put a teasing lilt to my voice and shift closer. “Trying to get lucky already? I thought we agreed to eat first.”

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