Page 70 of Alive and Wells

I certainly didn’t.“I’ll take it anywhere and any way my Not-A-Cowboy is willing to give it to me. I’m yours. Come in me. Fill me up, leave your cum running down my thighs, sign your fucking name inside me.”

I turn my head to the side and he kisses me. All teeth and tongue as I collapse, feeling an orgasm rip me from head to toe. A tsunami destroying me for anybody else. As my moan echoes through the barn, his thrusts become sloppier and even more frantic. I hold tight to his forearms to stay steady and his deep, raspy moan drowns in my hair as he spills into me.

He lays his chest against my back, breathing in time with my rapid heart rate as he reaches down to shimmy my jeans back up. When they reach my ass, he pulls out with a shiver, leaving me uncomfortably empty. I’d rather it be like the drive-in, where he stayed inside until long after we had both come down from the sex high. It was the most intimate moment of my entire life. But cuddling with his dick inside of me isn’t a possibility after a quickie in the barn.

“Fuck, I’m so lucky.” His words slur slightly as he struggles to take a hard-earned breath and button up my jeans. “Do you know how perfect you are? I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

I kiss him softly, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with my fingers. “I’m the lucky one—whatever this was, I think we need to make it a habit.”

“Don’t have to twist my arm. That was…God, I don’t even know. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.” He buckles his belt and reaches to smooth down my hair, which I assume looks as though I’ve been fucked in a barn.

Taking my hand in his, he walks me back out into the hot summer sun. I squint for a moment, my eyes struggling to adjust.

“You know, this is my family’s barn.” His head twists to point at the building we just walked out of. “Built it when I was about fifteen. My grandpa was rodeo president then. And, after that, my mom was president until… well… There’s photos of us and everything in there.”

With a firm grip on his hand, I tug him back inside. “Where? I want to see.”

He scrunches his nose in irritation but relents. “In the tack room here.” Flipping on the light switch, I’m faced with more than a dozen family photos hung on the walls.

“Ugh, I’m pissed I left my phone with Colt now. Ineedthis picture of you.” I point at a photo of a smiling little boy who’s missing a front tooth.Mutton Busting Champion ’93is the caption. “That’s easily the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I study each photo. His grandfather proudly presenting his grandsons with various rodeo awards, Denny on the back of a bucking horse, the three boys as little kids sitting on a fence. I’m careful not to comment on any photos that include their father—a man that’s the spitting image of Jackson. Actually, if it weren’t for how insanely alike they look, I wouldn’t have assumed he was related to Austin at all. Because Austin looks identical to his mom.

“Your mom’s name’s Lucy? Really?” I lean in to read a framed news article about her being Wells Canyon’s first female rodeo president. “My middle name’s Lucille.”

“Hmm.”

Trying to lighten the mood, I jokingly pat my stomach and add, “At least we have a girl name picked out for this rodeo baby.”

As expected, he doesn’t audibly laugh, but his nostrils flare and the corner of his mouth perks up at my terrible excuse for a joke. I’ll count that as a win.

“She was beautiful. You have her eyes,” I say, looking over to see Austin gnawing on his cheek, his stare fixated on the ground.

“Let’s go. I decided something just now.” I smile and nudge him with my shoulder.

“Oh?” He wastes no time flipping the switch and closing the door behind us.

“Tonight I want you to be—how did you put it? ‘Quite fun’? You drink, I’ll drive.” My fingers weave into his like it’s their permanent home and we walk the long way around the arena. The announcer’s voice and cheers from the crowd boom through the humid air.

“You don’t drive trucks, and I said Iused tobe fun.”

“I’m capable of driving them, even if I don’t particularly enjoy it. It’s not fair that you’ve seen me incapacitated and I haven’t had the pleasure of witnessing you let your hair down outside of sex. And Ireallylove it during sex, so I’m dying to see you drunk. Also, I’m going to play the ‘your cum will be leaking out of me all night’card. You owe me for dealing with the mess you made.”

He laughs, his hand rubbing his brow bone as he weighs his lack of options. “What if KJ shows up?”

“What’s he gonna do at a busy rodeo dance? I’ll still be right there with you and the other guys all night.” I squeeze his hand. “Please?”

“I’ll drink, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when this gets outta hand.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.” I drag him into the beer gardens and, after a brief stop at the bathroom, to the bar. I don’t even care about having to remain sober and be responsible for our entire group of drunk cowboys. It’ll be worth it just to see him let go.

It’s nearly two a.m. and, unsurprisingly, the boys have gone completely off the rails. Beryl, Kate, and Jackson left five hours ago and I’ve been on my own to wrangle everybody else since. Although there have been times when I feel like I’m herding cats, I have no regrets because Austin’s good mood is filling my heart. And, honestly, mending it too. It didn’t dawn on me until after he’d consumed multiple drinks that I never questioned whether he could be a mean drunk. Despite my past, I guess I subconsciously knew it wasn’t a possibility with him. And looking at him now—no shot. The only way he would potentially hurt somebody tonight is with an out-of-control dance move gone awry.

He grabs my hand for what must be the four-hundredth time tonight and begins to two-step. Anytime a country song comes on—which is a lot, given we’re at a rodeo dance—he insists on two-stepping with me. Everything I know about it I learned while drunk dancing with Colt at The Horseshoe, but I’m trying my best to keep up. My aching feet cramp with every step. Austin’s relentless, swinging me around and dipping me so low the ends of my hair skim the ground.

“Aus, I need to sit for a while. My feet hurt,” I yell over the music as one song ends and another begins.

He sticks out his bottom lip for a few seconds before saying, “Fine, party-pooper. Love you!”

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