Page 69 of Say I'm Yours
“Where should we put this?” Trent holds the deer’s head that he had mounted.
“In the garbage?” I offer.
He chuckles, but I’m not joking. There’s no way that ugly ass thing is hanging in my very well-decorated home. He can use his house as a man cave for all I care. He can smoke, drink, play cards, and hang his kills there because it ain’t happening here.
“Oh, come on. It’s a great coat rack.”
“No way.” I point outside. “It’s not comin’ in here.”
Trent grumbles and carries it back outside. I’ve already agreed to the ugliest chair known to man. I don’t know where he was storing it, because I’ve never seen it in his house, but he marched in and said it had to stay or he was leaving with it. It’s made of the scratchiest wool I’ve ever felt, and we won’t even talk about the plaid pattern. Whoever made it took whatever colors of wool they had and went for it. It doesn’t match anything.
And yet, here it sits in my living room.
Aside from the ugly chair incident, we’ve migrated his things in pretty seamlessly. However, that dead deer head isn’t going anywhere in this house.
I manage to help him unpack a few more boxes before he grabs me by the waist and throws me to the bed, saying we needed to christen the house now that he lives there. Who am I to protest?
“You think we’re goin’ to regret this?” I ask as we’re lying in bed with only the sheet covering us.
“What? Movin’ in?”
“Well, yeah.”
He moves in close and pushes the hair off my face. “Nope. There will be zero regrets from me. I wasted a lot of years and for the dumbest reasons. I don’t see a downside to us livin’ together. Besides, I get to see you naked a whole lot more this way. Just think of all the sex we’ll have now.”
I smack his arm. “And think of all the things we’ll have to adjust to.”
“We’ll figure it out day by day. If Angie has found a way to deal with Wyatt, we should be fine.”
“I’m pretty sure your brother would say the same about you.”
Zach and Wyatt are the closest of the Hennington brothers. Trent’s always been on his own. When they wanted to ride horses, Trent was out shooting. He didn’t have much interest in working on his family’s farm. I never understood it, but even in high school, he was looking at other vocations.
Even after his daddy had a stroke and Trent had to help run things, he hated it and eventually chose to walk away. He explained that he knew what he wanted to be and didn’t want his family to waste their time. It was strange to me, but then again, Trent has always been a mystery to me.
We get out of bed, toss clothes on—well, I do—and head in to the kitchen.
“Friday is the Fourth of July celebration,” Trent mentions as he leans against the counter with just a pair of basketball shorts on. I think just knowing he lives here somehow makes him sexier.
He snaps his fingers. “Earth to Grace.”
“Oh! Sorry, yeah, Fourth of July. What are you workin’?”
He always does. I’m used to it by now, I don’t think we’ve ever gone together. When you’re dating the sheriff, you get used to spending holidays alone, which is something I resigned myself to a long time ago.
“I took off.”
“What?” I ask with shock. Well, that never happens.
“I figured we could go out on the horses and watch the fireworks away from the crowd, if you want to . . .” I rush forward and kiss him. His hands wrap around me, and he laughs as I assault him. “I take that as a yes?” he asks between my kisses.
“You’re full of surprises.” I smile and press my lips to his again. “I would love to. You know that this is my favorite holiday.”
“Okay, I want to help Mama a bit in the mornin’, but I’ll be back early enough to get to the spot I want to go.”
“Keep this up, and you may get all that sex you’re hopin’ for.”
His deep, throaty laugh echoes in the room. “All part of my plan, sweetheart. I can grab you here or meet you at your parents’ house. We need to ride to get where I want to go.”
