Page 25 of Wannabe in Wyoming

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Her gaze kept roaming downward, noting the snug fit at the crotch of his pants, and she snapped her eyes back to his face. Jesus, she’d been blatantly checking out his package. Twisting her fingers together behind her back, she forced herself to look at his face and not keep ogling him like a total ho. But, oh my God, the man was sex on a stick.

“Fine. It’s fine. Feeding the cat is . . . is totally fine. Just fine.”Great, good job, Willow. You can’t even speak!

“Are you all right?” He stalked toward her. Suddenly nervous, she backed away from him, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Willow?”

Her butt hit the wall, and she gulped. Literally gulped like an idiot. “F-fine. Everything is just . . . just fine.” God, could she say the word fine a half dozen times within a thirty-second time span? Apparently so.

The corners of his mouth twitched. “You don’t seemfine.” He stepped even closer, his body heat warming her even through her clothes. Yeah, justherclothes, because he was hardly wearing any.

“You’re . . . um . . . you don’t have a shirt on.”

“No. I get pretty warm when I sleep.” He lightly traced his knuckles down her cheek. “Does that make you . . .” His fingers brushed down her neck and along her collarbone that was exposed by the loose collar of her shirt. “. . . uncomfortable?” His touch raised goosebumps down her arms in a rush, and she shivered.

“It makes me uncomfortable in my pants.” Her mouth fell open, and her face heated so fast she was surprised she didn’t pass out. “Oh, fuck me, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

The shock on his face quickly morphed into amusement as laughter burst from him. “Holy shit, woman, you make me uncomfortable in my pants too. This is certainly one way to start the day, huh? Who needs caffeine when I have you?” He slipped his arms around her waist and hauled her up against his chest. “Now, come here and give me a good morning kiss. Then we’ll have a lazy Sunday breakfast. Just you, me, Fred, and Ethel. How does that sound?”

“Perfect, Nathan, that sounds absolutely perfect.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, her only thought as he devoured her mouth was she was damn glad she’d taken a moment to brush her teeth. After that, all thoughts fled, and she only knew the burning desire and need he brought out in her.

This is going to be the best week ever . . .

* * *

Nathan couldn’t have askedfor a better day as he and Willow got out of her truck to wander around the small town. The sun was shining, with only a few fluffy white clouds in the sky. The temperature was a comfortable sixty-eight degrees, accompanied by a slight breeze. From Willow’s descriptions and photographs, Antelope Rock looked exactly as he’d imagined it would. It reminded him of Foxborough, Colorado, where he’d grown up.

Willow had a list of things she needed to get or do while they were in town. Since the main street was only five blocks long, they’d parked at one end, in front of Ducky’s Feed & Supply, intending to run most of their errands on foot. Earlier, after a delicious breakfast, including fresh-from-the-coop eggs, they’d sat on her back porch and waited for Fred to show up. When the little critter had finally made an appearance, Nathan had watched in awe as the prairie dog and Ethel interacted with each other as if they were both part of the same species.

As he’d sat there with Willow, discussing their plans for the day, a sense of rightness and belonging had flowed over him. Not once since his family had been killed had Nathan felt . . . well, content and at peace. He could’ve stayed on that porch swing with Willow for the rest of his life and never want for anything more. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He wanted her in his bed, or on the kitchen table, or in the barn, or any other flat surface they could find, but he was willing to take things at a snail’s pace if necessary. They’d get there, he was sure of that, but she was worth his patience.

Willow fascinated him in a way no other woman ever had. She was such a contradiction of terms—soft yet tough, quiet yet vocal, beautiful yet down-to-earth, shy but brave. He didn’t know many people who would uproot themselves from a city they’d grown up in and travel halfway across the country to become a rancher without any prior knowledge or experience. But while they’d sipped their coffee that morning, as she’d explained to him about the alpaca operation they’d be going to look at, it’d been obvious she’d done plenty of research on her pending new career.

Now, as they strolled down the sidewalk, several townsfolk nodded hello as they passed by the couple, while others didn’t bother to acknowledge their existence. One thing Nathan did notice was that he and Willow were garnering a bit of attention. Fourteen years in the army had given him a sixth sense concerning his surroundings. More than a few residents were watching them, although some were trying not to be obvious about it.

He squeezed Willow’s hand to get her attention before asking, “Why are people staring at us?”

Willow snorted. “I’ve discovered there are two types of people in this town. The first type is staring at us, trying to figure out who you are and what you’re doing with Satan’s spawn. They’ll be praying for your soul in hopes you don’t follow the divorced, tattooed chick with the nose stud into Hell.”

“Seriously?” Aghast, he couldn’t believe anyone would treat Willow so callously. Didn’t they see what an amazing person she was?

“Yup. I ignore that bunch for the most part, but my Philly snark comes out every once in a while to put them in their place. Now, the other type is trying to figure out who you are, if you’re my boyfriend, and if you’re good enough for me.”

Nathan burst out laughing. “The second type sounds like my kind of people.”

“Good, because you’re about to meet one of them.” She gestured to a man who’d just come out of the small post office and was heading toward them. He wasn’t scary looking, but his keen gaze was pinned on Nathan. Clearly, he intended to have a little chat with the man currently holding Willow’s hand. He was about five foot eleven and lean, but it was obvious the man was corded with muscle. Red hair brushed his shirt collar from under a straw cowboy hat, and he strode forward with graceful confidence.

When the three met in the middle of the sidewalk, Willow pointed a finger at the older man before he had a chance to say anything. She also gave him an evil glare. “Be nice.”

The man rolled his eyes. “I was just going to tell him if he hurts you, I’m gonna hurt him. You already knew I was going to say that, so why’d you have to go and ruin it? You’re no fun, dammit.”

Willow sighed heavily, but a warm smile still spread across her face. “Nathan, this is Jeremiah Urban, my local guard dog. Jeremiah, this is Nathan Casey. Be nice,” she repeated to her neighbor.

“What? I’m always nice!” Jeremiah joked. “Come here, give me some sugar.”

Not waiting for Willow to close the distance between them, he scooped her up in a hug that lifted her feet from the ground. Jealousy coursed through Nathan before he remembered the other man was gay—even if he was in the closet. If it was anyone else, Nathan would have a serious issue with another man putting his hands on her in such a familiar way. He paused, recalling when Willow had told him how she’d pulled a shotgun on her ex. Even though she didn’t need him to be her knight in shining armor—she was more than capable of taking care of herself—it still didn’t mean Nathan would let anyone hurt her or come between them.

“Put me down, you overgrown child,” Willow chided.

Jeremiah obeyed her with a grin, then turned his attention to Nathan and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, son. Your girl here has told me a lot about you. Let me just say thank you for your service, and I’m glad you came home in one piece.”