Page 44 of Wild Horses

“And you want me to meet her? Your sister?” I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.

“Yes.” His quick answer culls my doubts. “You’ll like her, and she’ll love you, especially when she hears you put me in my place once or twice.” He swallows. “Tuesday and I… I told you we weren’t close for a long time, that I made so many mistakes. Wasn’t who she needed.”

My hands glide over his chest, seeking to calm the anguish in his words.

“We started talking more after the showdown withMr. Phillips, but picking up and going to New Mexico changed everything. For the first time in my life, she and I were together without the toxic influence and expectations of our parents.” He chuckles and scrubs his hand over his beard. “Granted, I wasn’t in the bestplace, but she took me in like I was dumb for asking. She built this whole family and life.” There’s a thread of wistfulness in his words. “And invited me to be a part of it even though I didn’t deserve it.”

Before I can assure him he deserves all that and more, my phone goes off. Reaching over him, I snag it off the small end table. Instead of sitting back up or getting off his lap, I stretch out, treating him like my personal man pillow.

Daddio

Mornin’ Mimi. I’ve got to get back. Want me to take X, your truck, and the trailer? Think you can make it here by 9:00 to get some clothes?

I read his text twice, wondering if the fog of the amazing sex I had last night, the high of War asking me to meet his sister, and the disappointment of not placing have short-circuited my brain.

“What’s wrong?” War asks.

“My dad…”

He sits up, taking me with him, cradling me in his lap. “Is he hurt?”

I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that. He’s offering to take X home.”

A brilliant smile breaks out over War’s face. “Well, that solves the boarding problem, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so, but how would he… Why would he…” My words falter, trying to figure out what’s driving my dad to offer this. “I haul X. Dad can’t make it to all my rodeos; some are multi-day drives. Even when it’s somewhat close, like this one, he rents a car and follows me up. It’s weird.”

“Weird, but fortuitous.” He hugs me. “There’s no reason for you not to come to Trail Creek now. Unless you don’t want to.” There’s a myriad of emotions in his voice, from happy toanxious. He forces the next words out. “Which is okay. I’d understand.”

Maybe it’s all chance; maybe it’s fate. Either way, I don’t care. This is the gift of time, and I want time with War Phillips. To know him, to learn life with him, to love him. And right now, that means going to Trail Creek and meeting his family.

I smooth the frown from between his eyebrows with my thumb then kiss him in the same spot. “Come on, let’s go get my clothes.” The way his face lights up is something I’ll cling to for the rest of my days.

As he goes to move, I fixate on the flex of his pecs from under the dusting of chest hair. His stomach is softer than when we first met, but I like it—a lot. Biting my bottom lip, I give him a heated glance. “My dad is leaving in just under an hour. We’re fourteen minutes from the arena.”

War raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to go on.

“How many times do you think you can make me come in thirty-seven minutes?”

In a flash, I’m staring up at War’s handsome face, his weight pressing me into the mattress. “Let’s find out.”

Turns out the answer is four. I think taunting him about itonlybeing three and a half last night made him more determined. War and my toys workverywell together. When he busted out the magic wand, I was done for. It’s taken a shared shower—where I was little more than a posable figure—and twelve of the fourteen minutes of the drive for me to recover.

War smacks of masculine superiority, having brought me to begging at one point during our morning romp. If I wasn’tso blissed out, I might be annoyed. As it stands, I’m just satisfied and swoony.

When we near the rodeo grounds, I direct him toward a different entrance so he can go into the trailer hold.

“It’s bizarre that so many people travel and live this way.” He says it absently, almost to himself.

“It’s not for the weak of heart.”

His brown eyes meet mine, chagrin coloring his features. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You may have relaxed some.” I wave my hand at his hair, beard, and clothes. “But deep in your heart, you’re a Dallas city boy. This must seem like a whole other planet to you. No posh dining or luxury high-rise apartments or sprawling McMansions.” I scoot as close as my seat allows and walk my fingers up his thigh. “Plus, I remember how shocked you were when I took you to Stir-ups and The Rusty Spur.”

A rosy hue creeps over his cheeks. “I was a snob, and you proved all my doubts wrong.”

An unhappy humming sound claws its way from my throat. “You left the clothes behind.”

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