Page 57 of Fool for You
“What?” I snapped before she could even finish the sentence. “Screw it up for her?”
Abi pursed her lips together.
“Alright, Abi.” I tossed the brush to the ground. “I get it. I’m a fuck up. The playboy. I have made some pretty stupid mistakes when it comes to women, but I can assure you, I have absolutely no intention of screwing things up for Quinn. Do I still have feelings for her?”Fuck yes, more than I did before.“Eh…a little, but right now, I’m happy just being her friend. She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. And she’s been putting up with my shit. If she wants me to go with her, I will jump at the chance to see her shine again, but she told me she wants to go alone. So, she’ll go alone. I respect that of her. You said yourself she’s determined, and I see it. I guarantee you, I won’t screw anything up for her. Her goal is to get to the NFR. One of my mine is to help her get there.”
“Wyatt,” she sighed, “I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” I interrupted her. “But Abi…I just need you to trust that I won’t mess things up for her. I didn’t last weekend. I flirted, sure, but she’s hard not to flirt with.”
“You’re losing that bet, aren’t you?”
“Oh, terribly.” I nodded vigorously, placing my hands on my hips. “But proudly so.”
Abi held my gaze for a long time. “You have more than ‘a little’ feelings for her, don’t you?”
I met her gaze once more, the brim of my ball cap shadowing my eyes. “Yeah. I’m fucking falling for her. And you’re making me walk down the aisle with her.”
Abi smiled. “That wasn’t intentional.” She pointed at me.
I clenched my teeth and shook my head. “You just like playing matchmaker.”
“No, I wouldn’t call it that. But…Iamon your side. I’ll always be on your side. I want to see you happy, and if Quinn makes you happy…” She trailed off, raising one shoulder to her ear.
“She makes me very happy,” I said, almost a whisper.
Abi smiled at me. “I’m rooting for you. So, don’t screw it up so I can keep rooting for you.”
I was tempted to give her a salute. Instead, I turned my back and waved a hand in the air.Don’t screw it up so I can keep rooting for you.Trust me, sis—I won’t. I’m falling way too fast and way too hard.
Nineteen
Quinn
Myentiredresservibratedas my phone buzzed loudly on the wood. I craned my neck to look at the screen from where I stood, practically buried in my closet, only to see the wordMomaccompanied by her photo. I ignored it, returning to the closet where I was carefully placing shirts in garment bags for my upcoming weekend. I was leaving the next day for three rides, and my entire room was a mess with hats and shirts tossed everywhere, and my living room was lined with every pair of boots I owned and belts hanging off the couch. It was only threedays; technically, I needed three shirts, three hats, three pairs of jeans, and boots—but this is how I worked. I wanted to see everything and pick what felt right for the ride. The last thing I needed was my mother calling me.
The last time Ispoketo her was at the Grand Junction Rodeo two weeks ago. She had given me a few text messages here and there, each one earning her a simpleKorYesresponse from me, but nothing other than that. I really didn’t want to talk with her. Not after the ‘apparently, you can’t’ comment she made.
What I hated even more was that it was sticking with me.
Was the fact that I had someone with me the only reason why I had a good weekend? Would I have made more hiccups and mistakes if I had gone alone? What if she really was right—what if I couldn’t do this? What if…
The past two weeks at home had been full of training, training, and more training to prove to myself I could. When Cash was with other clients, I’d take one of my boys out and circle barrels in the fields or run around the cow pastures. And when I wasn’t in the saddle, I’d go to the gym and work on my core and leg muscles. Abi and Kyla cheered me on from the fences, acting as my own personal hype team, but other than the girls’ day when we went dress shopping, I hadn’t had much interaction with any humans besides Cash.
But then there was Wyatt.
Wyatt…
Every night without fail, Wyatt came to my place with food and drinks. He saw me at the gym one afternoon, and after that, the options he brought became healthier and protein-filled. As much as I was loving the burgers and pizza…a baked chicken with a side salad was probably the more feasible choice for staying in shape and building muscle. He commented on how hard I was working and that someone had to make sure my diet followed the plan. I would roll my eyes, and he would just standthere and smirk as he popped a cherry tomato in his mouth. Then he’d get settled, and we’d watch the show together.
But what really sent my mind for a loop was the fact that I looked forward to him coming every night. I looked forward to sitting with him and listening to his stupid comments about the show. I looked forward to inching my toes closer and closer to him, knowing if I were to sneak them under his thigh, he wouldn’t protest. And I really looked forward to getting a hug from him each night—him always drawing it out longer than really necessary. But I would sit in it, breathe him in, and just…enjoy the feel of his arms around me. He was warm and welcoming, solid and safe, a friend I needed in the moment. And as much as I hated to admit it, that’s exactly what he was becoming—my friend. And something else that sent my mind for a loop? Something else I would never admit? Every time he was near, butterflies flew like crazy in my stomach.
My phone buzzed again, that time louder, as if it were taunting me.
Mom.
I sighed, tossing the garment bag on the bed and placing my hands on my hips, staring at the mess until the phone stopped. Bending to grab a hat box, a low groan left my lungs when, yet again, my phone started to buzz.
That time, a text.
