Page 55 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
And with that, I know the moment is coming.
21
QUINN
The Morgans sure do know how to celebrate in style. The ranch has been transformed into something out of a dream, and I’m in awe no matter which angle I turn. White drapes billow softly in the evening breeze, tied back with wildflower garlands. Fairy lights string between the oak trees, glowing warm against the dusky sky, their soft shimmer rivaling the stars just beginning to show.
Ava looks ethereal. Even without the cameras and crowds that usually surround her, she commands every pair of eyes effortlessly. Her dress moves like water, silk catching the last burn of sunset, and yet there’s nothing showy about it—she’s radiant in a way that feels grounded, as if she was always meant to marry here, barefoot in the grass if she had to.
And Zane—I know Ava had to wrestle him into something more than jeans and a plaid shirt, and it’s paid off. The one thing she let him keep is his cowboy hat, and it ties the whole look together. The jacket of his tux is long gone, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, making him look like he just stepped out of a magazine cover.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off his wife once, not even to acknowledge the looks of awe from their small circle of guests. The way he’s holding her as they share their first dance as man and wife is making my heart ache. There’s no trace of fame or fortune here—just love, raw and steady, stitched into every glance they trade.
I’m struck by the simplicity of it all. No paparazzi, no endless guest lists, just family and a handful of friends. It’s elegant in a way money can’t buy, intimate in a way I never thought possible for someone like Ava. And for the first time, standing here among them, I don’t feel like an outsider looking in. I feel like I belong.
I never thought I’d crave this kind of closeness, not after the years of living under my father’s iron thumb. Belonging used to feel like a trap. Tonight, it feels like freedom.
Beck finds me just as the first dance wraps up. He doesn’t ask, just slips a rough palm against my waist, and suddenly I’m pulled into the rhythm of the music. One spin, two steps, and I’m weightless in his arms. The world narrows to him—the way his jaw relaxes when he smiles down at me, the faint smell of leather that clings to his shirt, the way his thumb strokes lazy circles against the back of my hand as if to remind me I’m not going anywhere.
“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you look today?” he rasps out, his heated gaze on me.
Ever since that day at the barn after the sexy calendar shoot, I’ve been doing my best to avoid getting caught in a compromising position with him, and I’ve succeeded so far—until tonight, it seems.
“I don’t know, have you?” I tease back.
“My apologies if I haven’t—you look exquisite,” he whispers low in my ear, his lips brushing against my earlobe, making my breath hitch.
I try to play it off cool, like I’m not affected by his mere presence when deep down, I want to jump his bones and let him ravish me. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”
He chuckles low, eyes locked on mine as we get impossibly closer. For a heartbeat, it feels like something is about to break open between us. His lips part, and there’s a flicker in his eyes—the look of a man balancing on the edge of words he’s afraid to say.
I’m confused, wondering what is eating at him, and I am about to ask when Daisy tugs at the hem of my dress, asking to dance with her uncle. I want more time with Beck, but maybe this is for the best, so I step back and away from his arms to let her dance with him. I glance back at Beck, but the moment is gone. He gives me an apologetic look, but I smile at him, assuring him that it’s okay.
They dance together while I get something to eat and drink. Before Beck and I can find each other again, I’m swept away by my brothers to dance with them, and thus we are separated for the rest of the evening.
The night softens as the hours pass. The music slows, voices turn low, people start drifting away and turning in for the night. Beck finds me again, and this time there’s no more dancing, so he walks me back to my room.
To ensure that nothing happens between us no matter how badly I want it to, I start faking yawns the moment we are inside the house.
“That tired?” he chuckles.
“You have no idea. It’s been a fun day, but I’m exhausted.”
He hums in understanding as we get to my door.
“I’ll make sure you get inside safe,” he says, leaning against the wall.
“You’re relentless,” I tease, pushing gently at his chest. “Go on, cowboy. The night’s over.”
He smirks, tilts his head, and for a moment I think he might lean in. But I shoo him away with a flick of my hand, hiding the fact that my pulse is racing. He lingers one breath longer, then nods and steps back, leaving me with the echo of his presence.
My room is quiet when I step inside, the hush of it pressing in after the noise of the celebration. I tug at the zipper of my dress, the satin refusing to cooperate. My fingers fumble with it, catching fabric instead of teeth, and frustration bubbles in my chest.
“Of course,” I mutter, twisting at an impossible angle. The stubborn thing doesn’t budge.
I could leave it. I could sleep in this damn dress and pretend it doesn’t matter. But Beck’s smirk flashes in my mind, and I realize that I don’t have to suffer all night when he’s right next door.
I pad down the hall. I don’t knock. I don’t even think.
