“Light bantering. I wouldn’t call it fighting. I just love seeing you get riled up.”
She hummed, tilting her head back, her hair falling down her back. “There are more ways to get me riled up, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” I kissed the bottom of her chin. “I can think of plenty.” I softly nipped her neck, giving her a light kiss where I bit.
“I love it when you do that,” she whispered. “There’s so much I want you to do.”
“Compton…” I said huskily.
“I know, Hartwell. We have more than tonight.” She cocked her head and mimicked my voice, hitting the deep tone perfectly, might I add. “That’s your catchphrase.”
“It’s a good one.”
“It is.”
Before I could answer, she kissed me, deep and raw. Her hands slid into the hair at the nape of my neck as she pulled me closer.
Fuck this, I thought. We did have more time, but that didn’t mean we had to wait…and wait…and wait.
There was no screwing this up anymore. I was in this, and I knew Quinn was, too. What was the point of waiting? She knew she was more to me…
“Quinn,” I whispered into her. “How about—”
The loud, shrill sound from Quinn’s phone made me stop and offer up a truly annoyed eye roll. Lowering my head to her shoulder, I tried to ignore the ring so once it was done, I could scoop her up and run upstairs…finally make her…
“It’s a FaceTime,” she said, her hands sliding down my back. “My dad.”
I gave her a soft kiss and stepped back. “I’ll pick your boots.” I used my thumb to point behind me at the mess, just as Quinn jumped off the counter to reach for her phone.
“Don’t you dare.” She glared at me, pointing at me with her index finger. “Hey, Dad.” Her tone changed the moment thevroopsignaled the start of the call.
“Hey, pumpkin,” her dad’s voice was a lot deeper than I imagined, but unlike her mom, I could hear the smile he was giving her.
At least one parent cares.
“Hey, Dad,” she repeated, her tone more melancholy than it was two seconds ago. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to check in on you. You have a big week coming up, don’t you?”
Quinn walked into the kitchen, setting her phone down on her little stand as she reached for a glass. I went back into the living room, right in the middle of all the boots, and studied them, trying to keep my focus on the boots and not the conversation with her father. I didn’t know the man, heard her talk about him rarely—was he going to crush her like her mother did?
“I have the app ready to go. I can’t wait to watch. You going for the gold?”
“Of course, what else would I go for?”
“Any plans afterwards? We’d love to have you up here for your birthday.”
I pinched my brow. Birthday? How did it just now occur to me that I didn’t know her birthday? I knew this woman’s favorite foods. Favorite colors. Favorite books and shows. I knew how to make her laugh and ways to make her mad. I knew almost everything there was to know about her—except her damn birthday.
“No, I have so many events after…I need to be here to train and make sure I’m ready. I only have a few more rodeos to count towards the NFR. August and September are going to be really busy. In October, I should slow down a bit. You know how it is.”
I glanced at her in the kitchen as she filled her glass with water from the tap before she grabbed her phone again.
“I’m packing now, see?” She flipped her phone so the camera faced me. I saw an older man, gray hair neatly styled, with emerald eyes and a full beard. Lance Compton waved at me through the screen, his smile just as wide and as bright as Quinn’s.
“Wyatt’s helping me pack.”
“More like helping you narrow down which boots you can donate,” I shouted.
