Page 86 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

I shift my weight off Wade’s face, staring down at him. He is completely drenched. Is it normal for there to be that much?

Wade pulls me down, crashing against my lips. “Angel, fuck.” I gasp. “You just squirted all over my face, and it was fucking hot.”

Squirted? Well, that explains why it felt like the longest climax of my life. Why my body still feels like it doesn’t quite belong to me.

I drag in a shaky breath, forcing myself to be steady even as my body still feels wrecked in the best way. I come closer to Wade’s ear, letting him feel my breath against his skin. “I’m not done with you yet.” I whisper as I slide myself down his body until the tip of his cock is pressed firmly against my entrance.

I tease the tip for a brief moment before slamming all the way down to the hilt.

“Angel, fuck me.” He gasps.

I plan to do just that. I’m going to ride my cowboy.

Chapter Thirty Two

Maeve

It’s rodeo day and boy does the ranch know it. What started as a small group of us going—my grand scheme to get Wade and Colt in the same place where work is not the only common ground they share—has somehow snowballed into a full-on staff outing.

Can’t say I am mad at it though. We all deserve some fun. Boost of morale and all that!

The whole ranch is in a frenzy trying to get their jobs done early. All hands-on deck! Even Colt, who, despite my best efforts to convince him otherwise, has rescheduled his therapy session. I spent the best portion of last night convincing him we'd be fine, even dragged Naomi in as reinforcement, and still lost the battle.

Am I surprised? Not one bit; that boy is just as stubborn as his dad, biological or not.

Things between us since the lake situation have been mostly fine. Better than I feared, if I’m honest. We’ve yet to speak about it further, kind of going about our day-to-day like it didn’t happen. Some moments feel easy, like we’ve settled into what we actually are—friends. But there are = occasional moments where I’m not entirely sure about it. Like he is still holding on to some hope. I’m praying that I am wrong.

At least this morning, just after breakfast, he got talking about whatever’s been happening between him and Wade. From the sounds of it, things are moving in the right direction. I am relieved to hear this. I want it to be ok between them, even after I am gone. At least that way some good will have come from some of the questionable decisions I’ve made here.

Even with Colt working, I am still having to handle the barn on my own. He was needed somewhere on the far side of the ranch, dealing with wandering cattle—a surprise nobody wanted on an early finish day.

My arms are beginning to protest from hauling and replacing hay in the stables, but they’ve got nothing on the ache still lingering in my legs from last night. I lift Wade’s hat from my head, drag the back of my hand across my forehead, and settle it back into place.

Honestly, I’ve missed this. The rhythm of it. The simplicity. Mucking out the barn is not something I ever thought I’d find grounding, but here I am. Loving a job that is far from luxurious, all because it doesn’t require my brain. The problem with that is a brain with nothing to do will most definitely find something to think about. And mine goes straight to Wade.

Shock horror. Not.

Up until my very inconvenient epiphany the other day, being around Wade dulled the overthinking saboteur in my head.

Ironic, considering he is the core reason for the overthinking. But it's difficult to think about all the hard stuff when there's an equally hard thing distracting me.

That must be all this is, just a confused little heart taking a hit from the chemicals all the orgasms this man has given me. That's got to be the rational explanation, and I am choosing to stand firmly behind it. Delusional girly or not.

But as though she is the devil on my shoulder, Iris’s voice echoes in my head. Rule one of temporary is not to get too friendly. That's how feelings are formed, and that’s where you’ve fucked up!

True. But that was always going to be the hardest part. The man was a constant part of my days here long before we ever gave in to anything. What I hadn't clocked was how intimate things already were, even if we claimed to get on each other’s nerves. The quiet moments, the conversations, the small gestures. It should have been clear to us that it was more than just sex. And now I’ve gone from having a fanny flutter-inducing crush to longing to always be near him.

So essentially, I was screwed from the get-go. I just got to make myself believe that when I’m back in London, nowhere near Wade Carter, his stupid, tattooed arms, and his Texas drawl will be fine.

God, I was hoping for an hour or two of my brain being mercifully empty. No worrying about life after this ranch scheme ends. No picking apart what going back to London looks like now that it feels less like home than ever before. I’m not ready for all that yet.

Not one bit.

And let’s be real for a goddamn minute. I am in too deep with the Carter family. My heart will be left here even when I have to leave, so I may as well hold onto what I have in this moment until it’s time to let go. Including this little arrangementwith a certain cowboy.

Like the weak-willed human I am, I get out my phone and send a message to him.

Maeve: Don't suppose you've got anything more interesting going on than mucking out stables.