Page 62 of Wild and Wrangled

He brought a hand to his chest—the one with the rose tattooed on it—and his mouth dropped open a little bit. “You look…” He swallowed, and I tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple. “God, you look stunning, Ash.”

Dusty’s voice was almost awestruck, and it made me want to run and hide but also bask in it.

“Thank you,” I said, running my eyes up and down his form. On further inspection, he wasn’t wearing just a suit—it was a tux. I didn’t think he’d actually wear one. He wasn’t a tux sort of guy. “You, too—where’d you get a tux?”

Dusty flashed me a grin. “I’m full of surprises.” He saw thenecklace in my hand and nodded toward it. “Do you want me to put that on?”

“I don’t think it goes with your outfit,” I said.

Dusty reached out, and I tried to dodge him, but he softly flicked my nose. “Smartass,” he said. “Give it here,” he said with a palm out. I dropped the necklace into his palm, and he used the other hand to motion for me to turn around. I did.

After a moment, I felt Dusty’s fingers on my shoulder, moving my hair to one side. I remembered him unzipping my wedding dress a few months ago.

He always seemed to show up right when I needed him.

Goosebumps rose on my skin as his fingers dragged across it, and I had to fight the shiver vibrating through my spine. I closed my eyes and basked in his featherlight touch.

I felt the necklace at my throat, pulled taut as Dusty fiddled with the clasp. My breath caught, and I tried not to let the room go sideways. Once he’d gotten the clasp fastened, he dropped the necklace, and it found the proper place on my neck. I didn’t move for a moment, and neither did he.

When I turned around to face him, he said, “You’re beautiful, Ash,” and I rolled my eyes, trying to regain the playful mood. Suddenly, Dusty gripped my chin firmly.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see you.”

I should’ve tried to pull away, but I didn’t. Instead, I let my eyes grab hold of his, just like his hand held my chin and refused to let go.

His eyes moved over my face like he was memorizing me and this moment, then they’d come back to mine every few seconds. I was helpless when his hands were on me, so we stood in my entryway, and I let him see me.

“You’re beautiful,” Dusty said again. “So fucking beautiful.” He leaned forward, and I waited for my brain to go into fight or flight, like it had the last time we were this close. But it didn’t. It welcomed him into my space—it wanted him there.

“W-we should get going,” I stammered out. One of the corners of Dusty’s mouth lifted.

“We should,” Dusty said. “Where are your keys?” We were taking my car—better gas mileage, and probably more reliable, but don’t tell Dusty I said that about his Bronco.

I fumbled with my clutch and somehow was able to get my keys out, and Dusty gently took them from me.

“Oh,” I said. “I can drive.”

Dusty looked at me like that was ridiculous. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Let’s get you a coat and then we’ll go.”

I grabbed a long wool coat from the hall closet, and Dusty helped me slip it on. Apparently, I couldn’t do anything by myself when he was around.

I didn’t mind.

I kept the entryway light on, and we went out the front door, which Dusty locked, and then he led me to my car with a hand on the small of my back. He opened the door for me and made sure I was inside before shutting it.

When he crossed the front of the car to get to the driver’s side, I watched him through the windshield and came to the same conclusion that I’d come to over and over again: He was beautiful, too.

“Ready?” he said when he got in the car.

“Ready,” I responded. And with him, I might actually be.

—

It took us a little over two hours to get to the venue in Jackson. Dusty and I talked the whole way—about Riley, Rebel Blue, getting the yard ready for spring, a porch swing, Fall Out Boy’s evolution into emo dads—that sort of stuff.

We were in a heated debate about the merits of Nicolas Cage’s filmography and whether or notNational Treasure Threewould ever happen. Dusty took the turn into the lodge where the event was being held. It was a log cabin–style building—rustic, timeless, and grand.

When my car rolled to a stop, silence fell over our conversation. I felt the weight of who we’d find inside creep back onto my shoulders.

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