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“And what about you?” she murmurs.
“Me what?” I pinch my brows, turning down the gravel road toward my house.
“Um, nothin’. Never mind.”
“Are you tryin’ to ask me if I’mwild like Wilder?” I ask with amusement.
She rolls her eyes, then looks out the window. “Drop it, please.”
The desperation in her voice makes me wonder if she’s embarrassed she asked or scared to find out, but I have no issues telling her the truth.
“Well, let’s get this outta the way. I’ve slept with three women in the past decade,” I admit, waiting to see if she’ll look at me. When she doesn’t, I continue. “One I dated for six months. The others were casual hookups and weren’t serious.”
She finally turns toward me. “When was the last one?”
“Two years ago.”
Her brows lift to her hairline. “If I’m being honest, I’m surprised you’re single.”
“I’m not.” I shrug. “You’re not married, but are you seein’ someone?” My heart pounds as I wait for her answer.
“I got divorced five years ago and have been single for four.”
“So you dated after?”
She fidgets with her fingers in her lap, looking down at them. “Yeah, a guy I met shortly after, but it only lasted a couple months.”
“Serena would’ve been five? How’d she take that?” I ask, pulling into my driveway and turning off the engine.
“Fine, actually. She’s always been a resilient kid.”
We get out and meet at the front door. Before we go inside, I ask, “Do you wanna take a ride on the four-wheeler? We can go on a trail up the mountain and watch the sunset.”
“Really? I thought maybe you’d have to get back to work or something.”
“Nah, Noah’s covering for me, and Tripp’s doin’ my night checks.” I take her hand and lead us toward the nearby shed.
“Here.” I grab a helmet and place it over her head, then fasten it underneath her neck. “Feel tight enough?”
She wiggles and smiles. “Yep.”
After I put the other on and secure it in place, I jump on one of the ATVs. Once it’s started, I nod for her to slide in behind me.
Laney plasters her chest against my back, and it’s a feeling I never want to let go of. Her arms wrap around my waist, and she locks her fingers together.
“Ready?” I ask over the engine, tapping her hands.
She squeezes tighter. “Let’s go, cowboy.”
I laugh at the amusement in her tone and reverse out of the shed. The ride on the trail is peaceful, and the view is one I’ve become accustomed to. We have another hour until the sun sets, but the golden hour hue bathes the pastures in yellows, oranges, and reds like a scenic watercolor painting.
As we ride farther up, I wave to a couple hiking down and use it as an excuse to brush my hand over hers.
“Doin’ okay?”
“Great.” She squeezes tighter.
Less than ten minutes later, I park off the trail, and we hop off. We remove our helmets, and then I weave my fingers through hers and lead her to my favorite spot.
