Page 31 of Roped in Rawhide

As the famous song plays, my pickup sails down the road to match the enthusiasm of my mood. All it takes is the opening verse to get her foot tapping on the floorboard. Her head begins to bob along when the iconic bridge hits. There’s a slight quirk at the corner of her mouth. When the refrain picks up for the second time, she can’t stay quiet a moment longer.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Bronc?”

“I still know you even after years of being apart.”

“You don’t know squat.” Gemma crosses her arms, shutting me out again.

And that’s fine by me. We’re almost to our destination. She realizes it after I turn onto Vicksburg Lane. There’s a hitch in her breath and she drops her gaze to avoid looking out the windshield. The clearing up ahead is the backdrop to our childhood. This meadow brought us together back then and I’m counting on it to reignite our bond.

“Why are you bringing me here?” Her voice is barely audible.

My heart thunders in my chest as I slowly veer off the blacktop, merging onto the overgrown gravel path. “It’s our spot.”

“Not anymore.”

A stubborn lump clogs my throat. I swallow hard and park in the shade of a large maple tree. “Give me a chance to prove something special still lingers.”

“As if I have a choice.” She whips off her seatbelt in a flurry.

“Hey.” I rest my palm on her arm, halting her furious movements. “You always have a choice. I’d never take that away or force you into anything. If you don’t want to see it, I’ll bring you back to Big Red.”

Gemma’s chest rises and falls in rapid breaths while she stares at me. The pause is stuffed full of too much left unsaid. It balloons between us until I struggle to regulate my pulse. Sweat prickles at my temples as I wait for her to reject me.

“We’re already here,” she mumbles after the lull has spread thicker than the summer humidity. “It won’t kill me to stay in your presence for a little longer.”

“I sure hope not.” Humor tries to lift my tone, but it mostly falls flat.

“C’mon, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got up your sleeve.” Gemma leaps from the truck, forgoing the running board altogether.

I exhale the pressure lodged behind my sternum. “Do you remember the way?”

“You better be—” Her inhale catches again when we push through the dense brush that acts like a protective fence.

Our meadow stretches far and wide, welcoming us home. The once multicolored assortment has been transformed into a field of purple. I used a variety of seeds such as blazing star, purple clover, New England aster, wild rose, and prairie phlox. But most importantly, plenty of violet wood sorrel. Those have always been her favorite.

Gemma is still stumbling over her shock. “What…? How…?”

My focus bounces from her to the scene in front of us, but lingers on the woman who can’t hide her stunned appreciation. I watch her while she admires the different breeds of wildflowers dancing in the breeze. “An upgrade was long overdue. I did it last spring.”

“When you decided to start hounding me?”

“Just about.” In truth, not a day has gone by where I haven’t wanted to chase her down. “I’ve been maintaining it all along, but only then did I dare to hope for your company. It’s not the same without the better half of the Meadow Masters.”

There’s a glassy sheen in her eyes. “You did this for me?”

My shrug is lopsided. “Of course, Wildflower. I wanted to make sure you still had a quiet place to visit if needed. But it’s also for us. This meadow has the power to bring you back to me.”

She blinks and the pain I’ve caused shrouds her gaze once more. “Chance…”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I rush to say.

Gemma’s expression bricks over completely. “Oh, here comes the ulterior motive.”

The secret pauses on my tongue as I decide how to spit it out. A deep inhale provides an ounce of clarity. There’s a crispness in the air that’s rare for this time of year. I take a moment to savor the scent while gathering courage.

But this is Gemma—the love of my life. I don’t need armored defenses against her. She’s studying me cautiously while the internal conflict attempts to mute me. From this distance, I can see the complex layers in her eyes. The vibrant sea of blue captivates me like a hypotonic spell.

“I’m a virgin,” I confess on a hurried exhale.