by Kate Kisset
“Sure, not a problem.” Boone had no idea if there was room or what the ticket situation was. The only person he cared about being at The Owl was Becca, and she worked there. “How long are you two staying in Lonesome again?”
His date straightened, flinging her long brown waves over her shoulder, trying to recapture his attention, as if posing for a selfie. He shouldn’t look down on Nicole. She didn’t deserve it, but with Becca sitting so close, Boone couldn’t help himself. He could smell Becca’s skin—coconut and vanilla, like she’d just gotten out of the bath.
“Just until school starts. I’m probably going home to Tennessee a few weeks ahead of time, just to get settled, you know? Get back in the swing of things...”
Boone played with his water glass, shifting it and pretending to listen while his date rambled on about classes, and her major, and the campus, and the books she needed, and her schedule, but he was homed in on the suspiciously hopeful lilt in Harrison’s voice.
“I didn’t expect to be asking you this...you know, with”—Harrison lowered his voice—"Boone sitting at the next table. But I’ve been planning your surprise for weeks.”
Boone took a deep breath, angling as far away as he could from Harrison and Becca, not wanting to hear one word of whatever Harrison was about to say. He zeroed in on Nicole’s pretty brown eyes. They were rimmed with gold in this light. Seeming to bask in his attention, Nicole gave him a private, suggestive smile.
“Are you finished, sir? May I take this away?” The server asked over his shoulder, and Boone nodded.
After their server cleared the rest of the dishes, they all passed on dessert, opting for some of the new organic ice cream down the street, and he paid the bill. While dying to get out of the restaurant, Boone patiently waited for the women to finish their iced teas.
“So I’m thinking, if I pack all my classes into Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then take an afternoon class on Wednesdays, I’ll have long weekends.”
“Hmm.” Boone smiled politely when she paused.
Behind him, Harrison said, “You’re the only woman for me. I knew it after our first date.” Boone held his breath. Harrison wasn’t proposing to her...was he? They hadn’t even been dating a year.
Boone didn’t dare tilt his head or move an inch, instead staring blankly at his date and her sister, who were now going to toe-to-toe over whose English teacher was better.
Colt bumped his foot under the table and tipped his head toward Becca. His solemn expression let Boone know he was listening to Harrison also.
“This ring has been passed down through the generations,” Harrison explained.
Breaking out in a cold sweat, Boone chugged his water, all the while silently praying, No, no, no. Don’t ask her. A rustling from Becca’s table, and a gasp from Becca and then, “It’s so beautiful. Gorgeous.”
Holy Christ.
“Ready for ice cream?” Colt asked, rising.
Boone got up. “Good idea,” he said, shifting so his entire body faced away from Harrison and Becca, as if facing the opposite direction would erase what was happening.
But the sound of Becca’s voice trembled as she sputtered, “I... I...” made him turn to find Harrison down on one knee, and Becca staring into a delicate black velvet box.
“Look! He’s proposing!” Nicole gushed as she rose from her chair, grabbing her purse.
“How sweeeet!” Christy added.
Boone locked eyes on Becca, who was focused on Harrison with the look she used to give him. His blood ran cold as the realization hit him.
For the first time since meeting Becca, Boone felt like a stranger, an intruder, someone who shouldn’t be witnessing something so intimate.
But the concept of Becca marrying someone else went against the laws of nature. No matter what kind of ring. The man kneeling in front of her was all wrong, for one simple reason. He wasn’t him. Becca knew that, didn’t she? Despite what Becca said at the picnic about her wanting him to be happy, she wasn’t about to say yes to Harrison, was she?
Like witnessing a train wreck, with mangled bits of broken hearts and a shattered interior, Boone stood there with his pulse throbbing in his throat, unable to look away. A million should’ves and could’ves passed through his mind as time stood still.
“Ready? Let’s go.” Colt nudged him, bringing him back to their group. Colt and Christy started for the exit.
Boone took Nicole’s hand, following Colt and Christy to the door.
“Don’t you want to see what happens?” Christy asked, craning her neck over her shoulder to ogle.
“No. Not really,” Boone said as he ushered Nicole out into the fresh air.
LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER hours of tossing and turning, Boone finally fell asleep and drifted to a place where no one could take Becca away from him. The events of that summer day seven years ago were so ingrained in his subconscious, they’d become part of his soul.
They’d discovered the secret waterfall after picking up a trail north of Colt’s end of Beckett Ranch and visited it often.
The temperature, usually cool in the shade by the water, was a perfect balmy respite from the unusually hot ninety-degree weather.
They’d laid out the navy blanket Boone packed for the ride, spreading it out a good distance from the waterfalls on a soft patch of grass.
Boone’s palomino Delilah, and Harlan’s horse Jess, Becca’s ride, stood politely next to the stream, with their hindquarters facing them, as though they knew Boone and Becca were nude and wanted privacy.
“Becca,” Boone said softly.
Becca’s silken hair shone in the mix of the shadows and sunlight. “You rang?” She whispered, barely opening her eyes, her exquisite face tranquil in the relaxed way it always was after they made love. He’d never seen her look more beautiful.
“I love you,” he said, finally admitting what he’d known the first time his lips touched hers. He was sure she probably knew the way he felt about her by now, but needed to say it aloud.
“Everything about you,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing her neck. “I love your mind. Your heart. And your skin tastes like candy,” he moaned, making a trail with his lips up to her ear.
“And you,” she purred, tunneling her fingers in his hair. “I love everything about you.” She adjusted herself on the blanket, guiding him away from her neck so they could face each other. The way her eyes sparkled when she looked at him made him the happiest man on earth.
“You,” she gave him a sexy half smile. “You’re...”
“I’m what?” he murmured, “do I have to kiss it out of you?”
“If you insist.” She laughed.
He came down on her lips hard, kissing her with a need scorching through every cell and an ache he felt in his heart. Saying the words out loud, and hearing her say them back had lit a match. Even though he thought it was impossible to possibly love Becca more than he did thirty seconds ago, he did. He savored her succulent, sweet lips, sliding his tongue against hers. And in seconds, they picked up the dance they finished twenty minutes ago.
Becca let out a moan mixed with a sigh that shot through his primed, twenty-year-old body like a rocket. After a month of making love with Becca, he knew her body better than his own. She was hot under his touch, and from the sound of her quick breaths, and the passion in her kisses, he knew she was ready for him again.
She reached between them, her silky hand stroking his hard cock against her smooth belly, sending him to the point of no return. “You’re everything,” she cooed.
Gasping between breaths, and kisses, he closed his eyes in ecstasy, relishing the way she wet her hand and rubbed him, quickening the pace.
“I’m everything?” he groaned, barely managing to get the words out.
“Everything I need. Everything I want. And I want you again. Now. I’m sorry, I just can’t resist you.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for that.” Barely controlling his breathing and ready to come all over her, he qui
ckly reached for his jeans and grabbed another condom. “We’re perfect for each other.” He laughed and kissed her nose. “Because I can’t resist you either.” He tore the packet open and she helped slip the condom over him.
“Hurry.” She begged, spreading her legs for him, taking his breath away at the sight.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, now on his knees between her legs, angling his cock against her and then in. Becca’s pelvis met him at just the right angle. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect,” he whispered, sinking deeper into her.
“So are you,” she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his hips, and pressing his lower back with her hands. And he was lost, thrusting into her, harder, faster, the friction and sensation of her wet heat clenching around him, made him struggle to remind himself to slow down. To wait for her.
But the pleasure was excruciating as she rocked against him, letting out another moan and another. “Boone,” she cried out, her body trembling. “I’m coming.”
And that was all it took for him to spill himself inside her body and soul.
Chapter Seven
ZIG-ZAGGED WALLS OF men in denim wearing Stetsons, and buckle bunnies teetering on heels smelling like sugar, were crammed inside The Owl.
Ready to rock, Boone arrived dressed for the show. He’d kept it casual and wore a black fitted T-shirt, his good jeans and boots, and the Cody James oval Montana belt buckle a fan gifted to him a few weeks ago.
With an hour to kill before his performance, Boone finished jotting down a few more lines to “Maybe it’s Me,” the song he rescued from the box of Becca’s mementos, and texted the new lines to himself.
He shoved the phone in his pocket and made his way out of the dressing room, sauntering over the snap and lock dance floor, taking in the low-pitched rumble of voices, and the ruckus of clinking beer bottles, plates, and glasses in the noisy bar.
Boone recognized some of the faces, locals and friends, but not all. With only a month left on his contract, word about his performances had gotten out.
At least half the crowd were Kmart cowboys, using this opportunity to dress up and play country cool. Their barely worn boots and iron-creased jeans were a dead giveaway.
Although the Becketts hadn’t raised cattle in years, Boone wasn’t a cowboy-pretender. When his grandparents were alive, they lived in the ranch house Colt inherited, and Boone’s family lived in the old rambler Boone just finished remodeling. Ranching was a family affair, and Boone and his brothers spent every spare second working. The Beckett brothers knew enough about ranching to get a job as a hand anywhere if they needed to.
“Hey!”
Boone turned to see Georgia push off the bar and swivel on her stool toward him.
“Ooops, careful! Don’t hurt yourself.” Boone sidled up next to his sister-in-law. “Aren’t you supposed to be home in bed or something?” He thumbed through the tattered edges of the notepad lying on the bar. “I know you’re not supposed to be working.”
“I tried to stay away—really, I did,” Georgia laughed, and he leaned down to hug her and kiss her cheek. “But you’re just too big a story to pass up.” She gestured to the entrance. “There’s a line outside that goes all the way down the block.”
Boone glanced at The Owl’s front door but couldn’t see any hubbub. “You serious?”
“As serious as Pearl’s pecan waffles. They’re only letting in friends and family now. They have a rope out in front and everything.”
“Is that so?” Boone let his eyes take another spin around the bar, just to be sure he wasn’t missing something. “I can guaran-damn-tee you half these people are not my friends, and they sure as hell aren’t family.”
“I guess it depends on what Linda decides.” Georgia shrugged.
Something about the way she moved made her shoulders look especially fragile and her belly more than cumbersome.
“Is Harlan going to meet you here?”
“He’s right over there.” Georgia pointed to the far corner of the room, away from the bustle, to the right of the stage. “He had to make a call.”
As if Harlan knew they were talking about him, he glanced up and nodded.
“It’s good he’s here, I wouldn’t want you alone in the middle of all these out-of-towners. Especially in your condition. It might get rowdy tonight.”
“Why, Mr. Boone,” Georgia batted her eyelashes, using a southern belle voice. She fanned herself. “Are you being protective of little ole me?”
He chuckled, still amazed at how perfectly Georgia fit into the family. “That’s what brothers-in-law are for, am I right?”
“You are. And you’re so sweet, it’s taken me a little while to get used to you and Colt.”
“Well, get used to it already.” Boone nodded to her notepad. “And if you need any quotes from me, we can do it by phone, anytime. You don’t have to drag yourself out here.”
“But I want to be here. I’m looking forward to hearing you play.” She gave him a double take. “But you don’t seem to be your usual cheerful self. Everything okay?”
“Right as rain.” On a dark and gloomy day. The thought made Boone sweep the bar for Becca, in spite of promising himself he wouldn’t. There was no sign of her, but out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Harrison approaching. This wasn’t a good time to deal with Harrison, or even acknowledge he walked the face of the earth. He’d be too easy a shot. Just one good punch would set surfer boy straight.
But Boone never threw the first punch, and only fought when he had to. This was no time for a confrontation. It was Boone’s job to stay “up” on performance days.
After giving Georgia another peck on the cheek, Boone excused himself, and waded through the crowd back to his dressing room.
The flimsy door was open, and his heart stopped when he found Becca waiting for him. A mixture of melancholy and ice hit him squarely, like a slap. It was if his heart was cracking, but his brain was overriding the hurt with anger. He broke out in a sweat, the conflict almost tearing him apart.
How could she marry Harrison? Boone couldn’t blame the doofus for asking, but he could sure blame her for saying yes.
“How’d you get back here?”
“I don’t know, my feet? Nice to see you too.” She frowned. “Is something wrong? Here, Linda says you need these.” Becca unloaded the water bottles she’d been cradling and set them on the narrow counter. A rush of coconut and vanilla flooded his senses when she moved.
“Why are you even here, Becca?”
She spun around to him. “Are you picking on me again? I offered to quit if it bothers you so much.” The question lingered in her stare. “Jeez, I think this whole country star thing is going to your head.”
“Why, Becca?” Heart heavy, Boone retreated, asking softly, “Why the fuck did you ever come back?”
She sucked in a startled breath and gave him a wide-eyed once-over. “I...I’m not sure this is the right time to talk about it. You have a show tonight and I—”
“Just answer me this,” his voice broke. “Didn’t you believe one word I said that night?”
Becca’s blue eyes flashed. She shrugged silently, as if she didn’t know what he was talking about, or as if she did know and didn’t want to acknowledge it. Becca needed to face up to him, though, and he needed to hear the truth.
Without warning, tears began to sting his eyes, and he blinked them away. But this was the final walk he’d take with Becca. This was their line in the sand. After all these years, she’d decided to march down the aisle with another man, and it was too sudden. Too much to take.
He inched closer, tempted to wrap her in his arms and bury himself inside her. “Did you believe me when I told you I loved you?”
Her shoulders slumped and her chin started to tremble, but still didn’t respond.
“When I told you I'd do anything for you, didn’t you believe me?” Boone asked quietly.
“Yes... But...”
He reached out to qui
et her and ran his thumb along her pink bottom lip, feeling the plush velvet. “There are no buts. That's all I needed to know.”
“No,” she said, brushing his hand away. “You don’t get to shush me now that you’ve brought it up. If you want to talk, dammit, let’s talk.”
Becca stormed for the door and closed it. “I broke up with you because I couldn’t trust you anymore,” her voice shook. “And, well...yeah.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “After I almost killed myself on that ATV, I was a mess.” She paced, locking eyes with him.
“I was there for you. I wanted to take care of you, Becca.”
“Concussion, broken leg, cracked rib.” She moaned, whispering, “I forgot how to walk, Boone. That’s an awful lot to ask of someone.”
“You think I didn’t know that? You think it scared me?”
“Of course it did. It scared me! I wasn’t sure I’d ever be back to normal.” She sniffed, pausing a beat, staring at him, as if she needed to find the courage to continue. “And at the same time, you were keeping secrets from me and acting all kinds of crazy, protecting Harlan.”
“Now that’s a low blow. I gave an oath to Harlan, and his situation had nothing to do with us.”
“It affected us every day. How do you not see that?” Becca parked her hands on her hips. Her eyes were getting bluer and watery, giving him the feeling of drowning in deep water. “You convinced me you thought that Harlan walking offstage, fooling around with his best friend’s wife, and disappearing for days, were all perfectly normal behavior. You backed him up, played along in his lies instead of just telling me the truth.”
“What was going on with Harlan was his business.”
“But you’re the one who changed. How was I supposed to spend my life with someone who didn't trust me enough to tell me what was going on? And how could I ever make any kind of long-term commitment when I didn’t know what kind of shape I’d be in?”
Boone’s heart stopped. “You were ready to spend your life with me then?”
