Page 100 of Roped in Rawhide

I park in front of The Paddock and lift her out onto the sidewalk. When I try to swing her onto my back, she leaps away.

“My legs work and I’m going to use them.” She reclaims my palm in hers, yanking me to the bar entrance.

“You put a lot of strain on them earlier.” My cock twitches at the reminder.

She swats off the suggestion that her muscles are tired. “That was barely a burn.”

I jog to catch up to her purposeful stride. The Paddock is about half full, with plenty of available tables. None other than Marie Phillips is sitting at a high top. As if I need a physical reminder of my mistakes from all those years ago. I cringe, tempted to block her from Gemma’s sight. But my proud girl tips her chin high and keeps walking without acknowledging the other woman.

Her message is clear: I’m hers and not going anywhere.

Rather than lead me to one of our preferred booths, she guides me to the far wall. Her steady gait doesn’t falter as we approach the patio door. As far as I know, that space is reserved for private parties of at least ten people or stolen moments away from prying eyes.

“Wildflower,” I croon. “If you wanted more sex, we could’ve stayed home for another round.”

Gemma laughs and shoves me outside. My brain is still stuck on making love to her in what’s now our room. That’s my only excuse for taking a full minute to process the scene in front of us.

“Umm, did I miss something?” I mumble to no one is particular.

Both of our families are here. All eyes are on me as if I’m the guest of honor. That can’t be right.

I grip the back of my neck, searching my memories for a clue, but come up blank. My focus slides to Gemma. “Did you plan this?”

She shakes her head. “I had very little to do with this. My contribution was keeping you occupied while everyone arrived.”

Feigned offense drops my jaw. “You used sex to distract me?”

A stunning shade of red blooms on her cheeks. “No, Bronc. That wild ride was your idea. We were celebrating, remember?”

“Well, what’s the occasion for this hootenanny?”

“Date night!” Paisley shouts. Brody’s arm is slung around her and little Wren is noticeably absent.

Frankie lifts her cocktail in the air. “Expensive booze I’m not paying for.”

“And the benefits that come after,” Byron adds from beside her.

“Grand gestures and groveling,” Bianca whoops. Colton has her back pressed flush to his front and appears very content to stay that way.

Uncle Dennis whistles and whips his cowboy hat around his head. “Justice being served!”

Mama June is beaming at me. “Soulmates.”

“Hear, hear!” Gemma’s dad raises his beer.

“Our happily ever after,” Gemma states while handing me a glass of champagne.

My free hand finds her hip, pulling her into my side. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Oh!” Her eyes pop wide when she looks at me. “There’s something else we can toast to.”

“You’re pregnant!” Mama June claps.

Gemma chokes on her sip of champagne. “Definitely not.”

“Well, it won’t take long,” her mom muses. “You’re banging a Benson.”

“Mother!” Paisley cries.