Page 45 of Wild Horses

The car jerks to a stop, and I find my seatbelt unbuckled and myself hauled into his lap. It’s a tight fit, and my ass presses into the steering wheel.

“I did.” He brings our foreheads together. “I couldn’t take them. It was too raw that morning. I couldn’t walk out of there with a physical reminder.”

Another suffocating swell of guilt smashes into me. Pretty words rest on the tip of my tongue, eager to slip free of their confines and soothe him. But for what’s likely only the third time in my life, I think before I speak. I search my heart for any hint of a lie, and, when I find nothing, I embrace the warm glow lighting me from the inside. Losing last night led me to be here with him this morning, and while I’m not looking to hangup my Stetson anytime soon, the future I picture looks vastly different than I imagined it even forty-eight hours ago. With complete and total sincerity, I grip his hair, anchoring myself to him.

“We’re going to find a way to put that night behind us. I don’t mean forget it. It will always be a part of our story, but I will prove it to you, however you need. Show you how much I regret leaving you. I’m in, War. All in. There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

His grasp on me tightens, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck. The warmth of his breath mixes with the heat of his lips as they ghost along my throat. “Laramie, I?—”

A rap on the driver’s side window pulls us apart, and I groan when I meet my father’s amused stare. Shooing him away from the door, I pop it open and tumble out.

“Looks like you two were having a moment.”

I roll my eyes and hip-check him. “We were until someone interrupted us.”

Dad hugs me tight. “You two look good together.”

Craning my head back, I ask, “Why did you offer to drive the truck?”

He shrugs. “Thought you might want to take advantage of having a few bonus days off, and no offense to the Boss, but she can be a little high maintenance.” I grin. He’s not wrong. I love Xpresso, but she’s a diva. Dad steps back and jerks his head toward the trailer. “Pack up what you think you might need.”

“I’ll go get her majesty from her stall.”

“I already paid one of the local hands to get her ready.” My mouth drops, and I’m about to argue that he shouldn’t have done that when he gives me hisremember that time you stole my trucklook. “You listen to me, Laramie Louise Larson.”

I glance at War to see if he heard Dad middle-name me,and from the smile he’s struggling to contain, the obvious answer is yes.

“You take these next four days and get to know War. Enjoy the time in New Mexico. I’ve got X, and I’ll make sure she’s in Pueblo in plenty of time for the Cimmaron Classic.”

I’m about to say my goodbyes when it hits me. “Hold up!” I look between Dad and War. “How did you know I’m going to New Mexico?”

Two muscular arms wrap around me. “I told him.”

“When? How?”

War smiles and whispers so only I can hear him. “Remember after orgasm three when you squirted all over me and demanded I go get a towel?” At my slight nod, he goes on. “I also fired off a text to your dad. You were so out of it you didn’t even notice me using your face to unlock your phone.”

I’m torn between impressed and irked. But when War’s lips brush my nape, impressed wins. I give Dad one last hug and a wave before climbing into the trailer and packing for my next adventure.

The drive to Trail Creek is enlightening. War is a fan of sports talk radio from one specific Dallas station, which he plays through an app on his phone. He’s also a gas station snob, which isn’t surprising. I do talk him into stopping at an Allsup’s and splitting a fried burrito once during the six-hour car ride. He declines my offer to drive but agrees to play twenty questions, the license plate game, and one very disturbing game of Would You Rather.

It’s early evening when we arrive in Trail Creek. The smalltown is adorable, like something from a movie set. I’ve been to my fair share of small towns, and they come in all shakes and shapes. But this place is a real gem.

I giggle as I read the business names, noting all the places I want him to take me while I’m here. As if reading my mind, War says, “The Bee and The Bean has a delicious pecan coffee blend, and their pastries are amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Tuesday’s future sister-in-law, Clairy, owns it. She took over for her aunt not too long ago.”

“I spotted the bookstore.”

War snorts. “Oh yeah, we’ll have to make a stop, or Saul will hunt us down.”

“Who’s Saul?”

“He’s like the self-proclaimed Trail Creek czar.” At my arched brow, he smiles. “He’s a nice guy, just intense. Very interested in who’s coming and going. And apparently, he keeps all the town’s activities alive.”

Twisting so I can see him better, I pepper him with questions. “Tell me more. What else does this little town have going on? Any other big-wigs I should be aware of?”

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