I went very still.
"And?" I asked, keepin' my voice even.
"And he didn't try again."
That was all she gave me. The way she said it told me it was all I was gonna get, and honestly, good. Good for her. Eighteen years old and she'd handled it herself because there'd never been anyone else to handle him for her.
The fury came back clean and simple. I let it sit there, because there wasn't anywhere useful for it to go right now. Wyatt Cole was comin' to Meagher County in three weeks, and I was gonna have to find somewhere to put it before then.
"Figured you deserved to know," she said finally, "why I tied you up and made you come in your pants, then bolted."
I huffed a laugh against the back of her neck. "That why you told me?"
"Part of it."
"What's the other part?"
She was quiet long enough that I thought she wasn't gonna answer. Then?—
"You got in the shower behind me without even asking. Like it was just… where you belonged."
I turned her around.
She looked up at me—water on her face, steam thinnin' out between us—and she had that look in her eyes she never seemed to be able to stop when it was just us. That open, unguarded expression I was pretty sure she didn't know she was makin'.
"Thank you," I said. "For tellin' me."
She looked at me for a long moment, eyes glassy.
"No," she said. "Thankyou."
I kissed her soft. She kissed me back the same way, her hands comin' up to rest against my chest, both of us still and unhurried under the last of the warm water.
When we pulled back she dropped her forehead to my sternum. I wrapped both arms around her and held on.
Neither of us said anything else.
Didn't need to.
And later that night, when she fell asleep in my arms, it took every ounce of restraint I could muster not to say the words that would be her tippin' point—the ones I was certain would have her runnin' for good.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Fourth of Julyon Wild Acre Ranch also happened to be Rhett's birthday. If he had it his way, we'd have a couple beers at The BP, shoot some pool, and call it a night. But a man never really got his way when a good woman was involved.
For years, Rhett's mama threw a huge shindig—live band, fireworks, the whole nine. My personal favorite was last year's frozen beverages, courtesy ofThe Margarita Man. Dad had just started chemo, so I was drinkin' for both of us. Reckon I don't need to mention Sass holdin' my hair back that night while I prayed to the porcelain God.
This year, Mama Calloway was in Bozeman with her sister and had made it real clear she wouldn't set foot on Wild Acre as long as Mr. C was breathin' the same air. Which, fair, TBH. Findin' out your husband had a whole other kid out there had a way of sourin' a woman on a place.
The other kid was Elena. Rhett's sister. Half-sister, technically, but I didn't figure that distinction meant much to either of 'em. Rhett had flown out to Michigan the moment he found out, went back for Christmas, and had been textin' her regular ever since. She was up there with her boyfriend Chase and their baby girl—a baby who'd had one hell of a start to life, courtesy of Elena's piece-of-shit ex. All were fine now. Whole thing had shaken out okay in the end.
Butokayand ready to travel with a new baby and a baby-daddy recovering from a gunshot wound were two different things. And Rhett, for all his checked-in, steady, dependable-as-the-sunrise bullshit, was itchin' to get back out there. The man had found a sister, and he was the kind of person who took that seriously.
Regularly caught him lookin' at pictures of his niece on his phone with a big-ass grin on his face. But we were gettin' fuckin' old, and if either of us was plannin' to procreate, we'd better be suitin' up—or, not, I reckon.
With my mind on the beautiful, majestic, and absolutely not sexy, heathenistic manner in which one procreates, my eyes scanned the party-goers formylittle heathen. Clenched my ass cheeks, and a little shiver runnin' up my spine had me shimmyin' my shoulders like a fool.
"No way you're cold," Sassy said as she sidled up next to me, standin' in the middle of the yard out front the big house. "It's July. Grow some balls."
