Page 30 of Homebound

Shit.

She goes right for the heart, and I actually rub my chest.

Without giving me a chance to respond, or beg, she struts away in her boots, but at the last second, I catch her wrist and pull her into me, wrapping her up tight in my arms. My chin rests perfectly on her head.

She doesn’t pull away.

“I fucking missed you,” I whisper in her ear for her, and only her, to hear. “I missed our late-night phone calls. I missed debriefing all your rodeo rides with you. I missed your laugh. I missed everything about you, but you had Boone. I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”

“I always needed you,” she mumbles against my T-shirt. “It hurt me when you left like that. You weren’t like the other boys. You were my best friend.”

Yeah, that was the whole problem.

And there it is—that hint of vulnerability she only shows to a few people.

I brush my lips against the top of her hair. “I’m here now, and I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not,” she muffles into my shirt again.

Dakota might be a rough and tough bull rider with a mean attitude to boot, but she’s got a softer side that only comes out of hiding for the people who matter most. She rarely whips it out, so when she shows you that tender piece of her, it makes you feel like someone important.

She’s stiff in my arms, but the longer I hold on, the more she relaxes until her fingers dig into my back, unwilling to let me go.

I get a whiff of sweat and dirt, but she’s still got that sugary campfire scent that always clings to her. She used to douse her body in that Warm Vanilla Sugar Bath & Body Works spray growing up. I only know the name because I followed her around the store one time as she tried on scents. She didn’t pick the one I liked, so I trained my nose to like the too-sweet smell of burning vanilla.

Mr. Cutler clears his throat. “Doesn’t this look mighty cozy. Should I grab a bottle of wine? We could all split it.”

Well, that kills our moment.

Dakota rolls her eyes, stepping back, but her face is flushed. Probably from the heat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Pops. You know I prefer my famous prickly pear margaritas. I’ve got to go, so you and Patterson can split the wine.”

She starts to strut away, but I cup my hands over my mouth, calling out to stop her. “Saturday, Dakota! Bright and early. Be ready for training.”

She waves a hand but keeps on sauntering away with those mouthwatering hips swaying. “Can’t Saturday. Lana’s making me go to the farmer’s market because I’ve turned her down one too many times for training.”

“You’re not getting out of this one!” I call out, trying to follow her, but a heavy hand drops to my shoulder, squeezing hard so I can’t move.

“Let her go, boy,” Mr. Cutler rumbles. “You’ve got no business going after my daughter, so let’s you and I have a lil’ talk.”

He makes the word talk sound like a prison sentence. Up until now, the man always liked me. He even ripped the Smirnoff Ice out of my hand and gave me my first bourbon whiskey when I was fifteen (the man’s a rule breaker), but if there’s one thing I know about Mr. Cutler, it’s that he respects anyone who dares to stand up to him.

Straightening to all of my six-foot-three inches, I stare directly into the pits of his deep, dark eyes.

He’s tall, but I’ve got a few inches on him. “With all due respect, sir. I can’t stay away from your daughter. She’s my…” I don’t want to say this word, but it’s the only one I’ve got for now, so I force it out. “Friend.”

He releases a booming laugh but sobers quickly, spinning that knife. “Don’t insult my intelligence, boy. Kodie might be blind, but I’m sure as hell not.”

My heart jerks at what he’s insinuating, but I play it off. “What’s that mean?”

“You know exactly what that means, and here’s the thing…” He grips my shoulder while tossing the orange in his other hand. “You’re a daddy now, so you know us fathers will do anything for our little girls. She cried for weeks when she finally realized you weren’t coming back, so I’m warning you now, if you hurt her again, well…” He takes out his pocketknife, flicks it open with a click, and uses it to slice off a piece of orange skin.

But all I’m thinking about is that one word…

If you hurt her again.

13

KNOCKIN’ BOOTS