Page 118 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
When he raised his hand, he didn’t drop it again.
He cupped my face, and where he touched warmed and tingled.
He leaned into me, planting a gentle kiss against my mouth.
Wade walked forward.
Everything around him shimmered away.
He pulled me to his body, pressing our two forms together tightly.
My feet didn’t even hurt.
I didn’t hurt.
I was… I was happy again. How long had it been since I was happy?
He lifted me into his arms, not because I was in pain, but because he wanted to carry me.
Carry me to the house.
To the bathroom, but not the one I’d used earlier.
He lowered me gently onto the toilet lid.
Suddenly, it was Boone in front of me.
He was undoing his braid.
Slowly. Releasing. Every. Strand.
His handsome face, high cheekbones and sharp jaw, was now surrounded by a raven-dark curtain. God, he was beautiful.
I looked down at his bare torso.
Behind him, the shower was running, filling the room with steam.
My gaze moved, drifted, and landed on the tattoo. I traced my finger across the sagebrush, sliding down to smooth over each name.
Cooper. Levi. Wyatt. Wade.
Cooper… it was Cooper now. We were in the kitchen.
He was standing by the stove in that silly apron.
“Do you want some food, Nelly? Can I make you some coffee?”
But I knew he really meant, “Can I love you, Nelly? Can we keep you?”
Wyatt.
Where was Wyatt?
Out, taking charge. Out, driving the mountain lion away.
I was in the living room now. Wyatt pushed through the front door, striding in with the two rifles still upon his back. His brown hair, close cropped at the sides but longer at the top, wascurling slightly. “You never have to be scared again, Nelly. We won’t let anything harm you.”
“Not even you?” My voice sounded distant and dreamy.
