We drive along the trail, the ground iron-hard under the wheels. Then, suddenly, the trail becomes mud. One moment solid ground, the next my wheels are sinking and spinning and throwing great arcs of brown mud in every direction and I’m going nowhere fast.
Stuck.
“Oh, crap,” I mutter.
Slade’s engine cuts.
He’s off his ATV right away, helmet off, boots hitting the ground, moving toward me with that quick purposeful stride he has when something needs fixing.
“Ease off the throttle, baby,” he says. “You’re digging yourself in deeper.”
I do what he says.
He wades in without hesitation, boots sinking into the mud, and gets his hands on the back of the ATV.
“On three, now you’re gonna give it a little throttle. Just a little. One, two?—”
The ATV lurches free and the mud goes absolutely everywhere as I pull up to a stop outside the mud pit. I take my helmet off and shake my hair free.
We are both utterly, spectacularly, head totoe filthy.
“Well. You got unstuck,” he says, wiping a glob of mud away from his face.
“I’m sorry.” I start laughing. “You look…” I bite my lip. “Like a very handsome swamp monster.”
His eyes rake over me and his mouth curves into a smirk. “Plenty of monsters have a bride, you know.”
I pretend to be outraged. “Are you saying I look like the bride of a swamp monster?”
“A gorgeous one.” A smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he gets back on his ATV. “And averydirty one.”
In that tone of voice, I can’t help but take it in a dirty way, too.
Then I put my helmet back on, gun my engine, and ride a tight circle around him, close enough that my wheels kick up a spectacular arc of mud directly at his legs.
“Catch me if you can,” I call out, already riding away.
I hear his engine roar behind me.
What follows is the most fun I’ve had in years. Tearing across Wild Rose with my husband in hot pursuit, pretending like he couldn’t absolutely catch me and overtake me if he wanted to. The fact that he’s letting me play with him, giving me that playful side of him I’ve never seen with anyone else, makes my heart skip faster.
We’ve gone all over his family ranch on horseback. He’s driven me around the thirty thousand acres on his truck. It’s all been wonderful.
But the ATV is a fuckingblast.
There’s something about the cold November air rushing past and the engine vibrating under me and the land opening up in every direction that makes me feel like I’m sixteen and just got to drive by myself for the first time.
By the time the sun is setting, both of us are dirtier than ever. My cheeks hurt from smiling.
We pull up outside the house mud-streaked and breathless.
“Wait,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Helmet off. We gotta document this.”
I pull my helmet off and shake out my hair and strike a pose. Butt sticking out as I hover over the seat, peace sign, biggest grin I’ve got. It might as well be a giant middle finger to my family.
He snaps it. Looks at the screen. Smiles.
“Let’s send that to your mother,” he says.
