Page 50 of Wannabe in Wyoming
“I want to press charges! He punched me!” Phelps spit blood into the snow and tried to jerk his arm free from the sheriff’s grip, like a five-year-old brat throwing a tantrum.
The only thing he succeeded in doing was pissing off Grady further if his thunderous expression was anything to go by. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. You see, the thing is, you’re trespassing.Again. I warned you not to come back here. Actually, I’m surprised you risked it after what happened last time. If you’re not careful, boy, Willow will shoot your balls off. She’s been practicing with that shotgun, and I doubt she’ll miss the next time—intentionally or not. Now, hands behind your back.” Pulling his cuffs free from his duty belt, he turned a loudly protesting Phelps around, before quickly and efficiently securing his wrists. “You’re under arrest. I usually wait until I get a suspect back to the station before saying, ‘you have the right to remain silent,’ and all that jazz. But since I don’t want to listen to your pathetic whining on the way there, you have the right to remain silent—please freaking use it—otherwise anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right . . .”
Nathan tuned out the rest as he glanced up at Willow who was standing on the porch with her winter coat on, scowling at her ex. He climbed the steps and wrapped her in his arms, wanting to reassure himself she was okay. He hated that Phelps had the power to upset her—he just hoped this was the last time.
When she slid her arms around his waist, he kissed the crown of her head. “Sorry, baby. I don’t normally go around punching people.”
“Nathan, honey, you didn’t do anything I haven’t wanted to do for years. Thank you.” She tilted her chin up and brushed her lips across his. “You’re like my knight in shining armor. Or rather, my soldier boy in body armor.”
“Oh, really?” He liked the sound of that. Well, not the boy part, but he’d pay her back for that later—when they were both naked.
Grady finished loading the still complaining Phelps into the caged back seat of his SUV, shut the door, and walked over to them. “I’m going to assume this idiot was threatening you two, and that’s why he got cold-cocked and is spitting blood.”
“Yup.” Trying and failing for a look of pure innocence, Willow tucked her free hand into Nathan’s back pocket, as he swallowed a bark of laughter. Damn, he missed living in a small town.
“At least it wasn’t the shotgun again this time. Less paperwork.” Shaking hands with both, the sheriff bid them goodnight, got into his vehicle, and drove away.
Nathan pulled Willow back into his arms. “Tonight was eventful in a way I wasn’t expecting. Next time you tell me you love me though, can we do it without the ex-husband and police?”
“No promises.” Smirking, Willow rose on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Groaning into her willing mouth, he grabbed her ass and hauled her up against his body, silently urging her to put her legs around his waist, which she did without hesitation. He wasn’t sure how he managed to get them into the house and shut the door, without falling, but he did it. Not pausing, he carried her down the hall, into her room, and to her bed—soon to be their bed. Placing her on it, he followed her down, losing himself in the woman of his dreams.
“Now, where were we?” he asked against her throat, running his hand down her side and hiking her leg over his hip. “Ah, about right here, I think.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Four months later . . .
Nathan grabbedthe last box from the horse trailer and carried it into the house. Ethan Rivers, one of Jeremiah’s ranch hands, and his cousin, Shane, who was Willow’s new hand, had driven to Kansas to help Nathan haul all his possessions and his family’s stuff, that’d still been in storage, up to Wyoming. Over the past few days, he and Willow had slowly emptied the trailer and neatly piled anything they could unpack at a later date in one of the two spare bedrooms and the attic. His clothes and toiletries were already in the bedroom suite he was sharing with her from now on. He loved seeing his belongings next to hers—it gave him a sense of home that he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a kid.
He was officially retired from the Army. A day after the farewell party his friends had insisted on throwing for him, he’d gotten into his truck and followed Ethan and Shane north to Wyoming. One of his buddies had taken over his share of the lease on his and Zach’s apartment, moving in with the other man, so Nathan hadn’t needed to worry about that. It’d been six weeks since he’d last been in Antelope Rock, and he hadn’t been able to get back there fast enough to satisfy him. If he hadn’t needed the trailer for all his stuff, he might’ve sold the damn truck and hopped on the first flight he could get with just the clothes on his back.
He hadn’t taken leave for Thanksgiving or Christmas—he’d always volunteered to work those holidays, letting the guys with kids and big families have them off, so instead, he’d invited Willow to Kansas to celebrate with him. Jeremiah and Dale had promised her they could take care of everything while she was gone, including Ethel, Fred, and the chickens. She’d been nervous about leaving the two men to handle the ranch, worried there would be a bloodbath when she returned. But after both trips, she’d been relieved to find the two men still very much alive without any visible battle scars.
Nathan had loved introducing her to his buddies and their families. Several of the Army wives and girlfriends had taken her under their wings while she’d been visiting and helped make her feel like she was one of them. She had taken particular pleasure in seeing him come home from work in uniform every day. Not that he’d had it on long once he’d closed the door.
He grinned remembering how she’d greeted him Christmas Day in nothing but her cowboy hat and boots, and tattoos. As always, his eyes had immediately zoomed in on her nipple rings, but he’d gotten a laugh when noticing she’d changed the steel horseshoe shaped hoops for straight barbells with sparkling red Santa hats on either end. He’d murmured, “Merry Christmas to me,” before pouncing on her.
For New Year’s Eve, Nathan had surprised her by flying up and having Ethan pick him up at the airport. One of the JP Ranch’s barns had been cleared out, and it’d seemed like half the town had been there for the big party Jeremiah threw every year. Thousands of white Christmas lights had been hung from the rafters and around all the vertical supports. A potluck buffet table had been laden with finger foods, barbecue, and at least a dozen different kinds of dessert, while beer, shots, and champagne had flowed freely. A country band had been set up on a small stage in front of a dance floor. It’d looked like something out of the Hallmark movies that Willow wouldn’t admit she liked to watch with Jeremiah occasionally. She’d been so bummed thinking she wouldn’t see him for New Year’s that he’d known he had to make it up there, even though it had to be a short trip.
Nathan’s woman had squealed when she’d arrived at the party and found him waiting for her, with another potted succulent in his hands for his lover who didn’t want flowers. He’d barely managed to keep it from being crushed between them before she’d thrown herself into his arms and squeezed the stuffing out of him. It’d taken everything in him not to haul her back over to her house and make passionate love to her long before the stroke of midnight.
Since they could walk home, they’d indulged in enough alcohol that neither had protested when a few people had coaxed them into participating in some line dancing. The guests had cracked up watching how Nathan and Willow would go right whenever everyone else had gone left, and vice versa. The couple had knocked into the other dancers, laughing hysterically, and ended up clinging to one another to keep from falling on their asses. But they’d been having far too much fun to be embarrassed about it. It’d been one of the best times Nathan had experienced in years.
Before he’d returned to Kansas for his last six weeks in the Army, Nathan had gotten Jeremiah alone for a talk. Willow’s best friend was the closest thing she had to family now, so Nathan had told Jeremiah he was going to propose to Willow after he moved in with her and asked for his blessing. One would’ve thought Nathan had given the man a million dollars the way his face had lit up in excitement. Of course, before giving his consent, Jeremiah had gone through a long spiel that covered what would happen if Nathan ever hurt Willow—in a nutshell, they’d never find his body. Wyoming was a big place, and Jeremiah was in possession of a woodchipper, so Nathan didn’t doubt the man would follow through with the threat if he ever screwed up, which he had no intention of doing.
The engagement ring he’d bought her was burning a hole in his pocket. He’d been stressing for weeks over how and when he should ask her to marry him. His friends had peppered him with suggestions from the sickly-sweet romantic to the corniest and most inane ideas they could come up with. However, nothing had sounded right to him.
After humbling himself, he’d had a long conversation with Jeremiah over a few beers the other night and had come up with a plan. Today, he would execute that plan. He’d been on countless missions during his career in the Army, but he didn’t remember being this nervous before any of them.
Today, he’d woken up even earlier than normal, too nervous to sleep. He’d taken great pleasure in wearing Willow out last night,twice, hoping she’d sleep in. Not that making love to her was a hardship by any means. He swore every time was better than the last, and he was pretty sure his brain was going to short-circuit one of these days and he would just keel over from an overload of the ecstasy he found in her arms and body.
After finishing his preparations in the kitchen, he tip-toed to their bedroom to check on Willow. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was still passed out, naked and sprawled on her stomach, taking up the middle of the bed now that he wasn’t in it. Her beautiful, long hair, that was well past her shoulders now, was draped across her face, and she was snoring softly. Grinning, he left the letter he’d written on the bedside table, propped up on one of the first succulents he’d sent her and right beside the framed picture of his parents and sister.
Now, he just needed to wait.
Shit, I think I’m going to puke.
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