Page 3 of His Big Hometown Cowboy
I lunged, grabbing his shoulders, aiming to dunk him. He came up laughing, twisting in my grip, hands slippery on my arms as he wrestled back. It was like sparring when we were younger, clumsy and laughing, except everything felt different now. His strength surprised me, meeting mine despite the obvious size difference.
The brush of his slick skin against mine wasn’t kid stuff anymore. It felt good, was electric. Sparking something I’d kept banked for too long.
Water dripped between us. Our faces were just inches apart. His hands gripped my waist, fingers pressing into the soaked fabric of my shirt. Mine were clamped on his shoulders, feeling the tension in the muscles beneath his skin. Our breathing wasthe only sound, harsh and uneven. His pupils dilated, his gaze dropping unmistakably to my mouth.
“Wyatt—” His voice was rough, deeper than I remembered.
My carefully constructed walls nearly crumbled. I released him abruptly and stepped back, nearly tripping over a submerged rock in my haste. The cold water felt like a necessary shock back to reality. “I should get out. Dry off.”
Tim blinked, the intensity fading slightly. “Right. Yeah.”
I sloshed to the bank, hauling myself out. The weight of Tim’s gaze followed my every move, prickling along my wet skin, but I kept my focus on the difficult task of unbuttoning my soaked shirt. My fingers felt clumsy.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” I tried for casual as I straightened to my full height, peeling the heavy shirt off. I laid it flat on a sun-warmed rock. “Remember when half the football team used to skinny dip out here after games?”
“I remember.” Tim swam closer to the bank but stayed in the water. “You never joined in.”
I wrestled with my boots and then jeans, the wet denim clinging stubbornly. Finally, I peeled them off, leaving me in just my soaked boxers. “Someone had to keep watch.” Make sure Travis didn’t drown, usually.
That wasn’t the whole truth. I hadn’t joined because watching Travis and the others splash around was one thing. Watchinghim, even back then when he was all knees and elbows... that felt different. But Tim didn’t need to know that ancient history.
He pulled himself out of the water in one smooth movement, water streaming down his body. He sat on the edge of the flat rock, dripping. Even sitting, the difference in our builds was obvious, my frame broader, taller. “Always the responsible one.”
“Someone had to be.” I settled beside him on the rock, deliberately leaving a few inches of space between us. The sunfelt good on my damp skin. “Not all of us had older brothers to bail us out of trouble.”
“Travis wasn’t always much help in that department.” Tim grinned, the expression momentarily chasing away the intensity. “Remember when he was supposed to be watching me and instead got caught making out with Sheila Wilson in your barn?”
Laughter burst out from me. “Your dad was livid. And you were what, fourteen?”
“Thirteen. And I only set off those fireworks because I was bored out of my mind waiting for him.”
“You nearly burned down the hay storage.”
“Details.” He waved a hand dismissively, then grew quieter, gaze drifting across the creek. “It’s weird being back. Everything looks the same but feels... different.”
I nodded, watching Pepper graze a few yards away. “That happens. You change, even if the place doesn’t.”
“Yeah.” He glanced sideways at me, his expression serious again. “You changed too, you know. Not just physically.”
“How so?”
“You’re...” He studied me, head tilted slightly. “Steadier. More certain. Back then, you were still trying to prove yourself, living in your dad’s shadow a bit. Now... now you wear the ranch like it’s part of your skin.”
His observation landed closer to home than I liked. I kept my tone even. “The ranch doesn’t run itself.”
“I was sorry I couldn’t make it back for the funeral.” His voice was quiet.
I shrugged. He’d been chasing his own dream out in California, building something. I got it. “Your brother was a big help. Travis really stepped up, helped me get through it.”
“Still.” He kicked his feet idly in the water below the rock. “How’s it been? Running everything yourself?”
“Busy. Exhausting. Rewarding sometimes.” I let a bit of pride seep into my voice. “We expanded the breeding program last year—got some prime Angus bloodlines that are finally paying off.” We certainly weren’t the biggest operation around, but we held our own.
“No time for anything else?”
The question hung in the air, heavy and direct. He wasn’t asking about cattle prices.
“Not much,” I admitted, meeting his gaze. The sun warmed the space between us. “Small town. Limited options.”
