Page 89 of Riding the Storm
“She runs the ranch now. I might still have the deed, but she’s the brains behind Wildhaven. If she’s not on board, it won’t happen.”
“I respect that,” I tell him. “I just wanted to get your thoughts before I brought it to her.”
He nods once. “I’ll talk to her. If she’s interested, the three of us can sit down with my attorney and hammer out the details. Does that sound good?”
“Sounds perfect.”
He glances at me again, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “If I were you, I’d talk to Charli before Matty. Storm women are shit at keeping quiet.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Sneaking out in the middle of the night again?” he asks, his voice heavy with sleep. He wraps his big arm around me and tugs me back into his chest. “I’m starting to feel like a dirty mistress.” He kisses the side of my neck.
“Yep. You’re my ranch rabbit,” I say as I pull my shirt over my head.
He props his chin on my shoulder. “Ranch rabbit?”
I twist and crawl up his body as he falls back against the pillow. “Yep. It’s like a buckle bunny, but stronger and better thrusting capability,” I say before taking his earlobe between my teeth.
His hands grip the back of my thighs as I drag my lips across his jaw.
“I booked us at Parson’s for Thursday and Friday,” I say before planting a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and hopping out of the bed.
A groan escapes him as I walk to the door and step into my boots.
“Cabe’s expecting you at six,” I call over my shoulder before stepping out onto the porch and into the cool morning air.
“I think he’s ready,” I say as Bryce dismounts from Midnight Storm.
“You talkin’ about me or the horse?”
“The horse. You’re far from ready,” I say.
He takes Midnight’s lead and releases him onto the paddock.
I pull my phone from my back pocket and type a quick text to Caison, letting him know that he can pick the stallion up.
A light breeze rustles my hair, and I glance around the circle pen. Dust begins to swirl. The sky above is that kind of perfect Wyoming blue, streaked with slow-moving clouds that catch the light justright. I tip my head back, squinting against the glare, until something cool and wet lands on my cheek.
A raindrop.
I blink, startled, then laugh under my breath. Another hits my forehead. Then another. Within seconds, the drizzle turns into a full-blown downpour, the kind that comes out of nowhere. The sun’s still shining, but it’s pouring—silver rain falling in sheets across the pen. I shriek, half from surprise, half from delight, spinning in place.
“Chuck!” Bryce’s voice carries over the rain.
He’s already running toward me from the gate, soaked through but grinning.
“Guess we should’ve checked the forecast!” I call back, laughing.
He grabs my hand before I can say anything else.
“Come on!” he says, and we take off, boots pounding through the mud, water splashing up the legs of our jeans as we race toward the barn.
We burst inside, breathless and dripping, the rain hammering against the tin roof so loud that it fills the whole space. I push wet hair off my face, laughing so hard that I can barely catch my breath. Bryce just stares at me for a second, his chest rising and falling, his eyes softening.
Then he steps closer.
He brushes his thumb across my jaw, tracing the raindrops still clinging there. Then his eyes drift down to the wet fabric of my white T-shirt, sticking to my chest.
