AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My heart beats rapidly in my chest, and I stare up at him, watching the way his face morphs into a soft smile and his eyes peer into mine with the kind of tenderness that makes my breath get all tangled up in my lungs.
The radio switches over to another oldies-style country song, and Rhett just keeps on dancing us around the meadow. And the only lights guiding our path are the moonlight above our heads and the headlights from his truck.
“Dancing with a handsome man in the middle of a dreamy meadow,” I say through a soft laugh. “This is some Edward Cullen kind of shit.”
“Edward Cullen?” Rhett furrows his brow but keeps moving us around the meadow in a slow, rhythmic pattern that matches the beat of the song. “Who’s that?”
“You know, from Twilight…”
“Is that, like, a fuckin’ band or something?”
I burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh my God, Taylor would die if she heard you say that.”
More confusion consumes his face in the manner of a tilt of his head and a narrowing of his eyes. Which only makes me more amused.
“Edward Cullen is a vampire from a famous series,” I eventually explain. “The first book is called Twilight.”
“What in the hell do fuckin’ vampires have to do with us dancin’, darlin’?”
I shake my head on a smile. “Just forget I said anything and keep romancing me, cowboy.”
There’s no way in hell I’m going to try to explain Twilight and sparkly vampires and shape-shifting werewolves that imprint their love to this rugged man. Pretty sure if I tried, his head would flipping explode.
Though, one day, I’d love to watch my best friend Taylor give it a try.
A new song comes on the radio, and it’s one I actually recognize—“It’s Your Love” by Tim McGraw. And the lyrics resonate so hard, they make goose bumps appear on my arms and my heart migrate to my throat.
I’m almost overwhelmed by how good I always feel with Rhett. How right it always feels. How, in such a short time, he’s become so important to me.
He’s someone I care about, deeply.
He’s a man who makes me feel stronger, more confident, and beautiful. And the way he looks at me sometimes, well, it makes me think about what a future with him would be like.
God, I think I’m starting to want that kind of a future a little too much for comfort…
Emotion threatens to pull me out of the moment, but when Rhett surprises me with another twirl beneath his arm, I’m yanked right back to the present, where a handsome cowboy is grinning down at me like I’m the best thing since sliced bread.
He twirls me again and again and moves us fast and slow, and when the song comes to an end, he grips my back and dips me like I’ve only seen people do in movies.
And he holds me there, his face peering down at mine. “What do ya think, darlin’?”
“I think you can dance,” I whisper toward him. “And you’re crazy good at old-fashioned romance.”
He smirks at that.
And then he moves his lips to mine and takes my mouth in a deep kiss.
Damn, this cowboy. It’s starting to feel like he just might have my heart.
August 7th, Saturday
Rhett
Joey jumps down out of my truck, slams the door, and takes off like a shot for a whole tangle of people making their way to the gate of Kanab Arena, the official stop of the Professional Rodeo Circuit this weekend and just about the last place on earth I want to be.
I roll down my window, put two fingers in my mouth to whistle loudly, and reach up and out to flick my hand in this direction when Joey stops on a dime and turns to look back at me anxiously.
“Get back here,” I tell her, just as Leah is jumping out of the truck herself and running toward Joey with some kind of natural-born parental-style panic. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m here under complete duress, I might actually find it in me to smile about how sweet my woman is with my girl and how much she cares about her.
“Come on, Daddy!” Joey whines uncharacteristically, an outburst I know is born of nothing more than excitement.
Two days ago, she heard them talking about the big show rodeo on the radio while we were driving in the truck—specifically, the new opportunity they were giving young riders to be showcased, live, on national television.
A brand-new, open-call mutton-busting event, they said, open to all children between the ages of four and seven who could make the trip to Kanab today and be ready to ride.
“I’m gonna miss the sign-offs!” she huffs, clearly meaning the entry signups that the radio host specified closed at noon.
I roll my eyes since we’ve got at least an hour before then. “Relax, baby, we’ve got time. Get on back here and get your stuff outta the truck.”
