Wannabe in Wyoming (Antelope Rock Book 1)

by J. B. Havens

  “What?” Giggling, she moved to straddle him, folding her arms on his chest and resting her chin on her hands. “You didn’t think I’d notice?”

  “Oh, I know you would, but I thought you’d be so taken with me you wouldn’t mind too much. And if you said anything about it, my plan was to distract you with sex.”

  She wiggled her hips, bringing his cock twitching back to attention. “There are definitely some perks of you living here, solider-boy. Someone to do heavy lifting, your omelet skills, hmm . . . what else? Bed warmer?”

  “Boy!? Woman, I’m your soldier-man, dammit. How many times do I have to tell you that? Do you need another demonstration to remind you of the difference?”

  “Hell yes, will always be the answer to that question.”

  Laughing with delight, Nathan rolled them over, drew back, and flipped her onto her stomach. Hauling her up onto her knees, he drove inside her with one hard thrust. “Oh, hellll yessss.”

  Four hours after she’d picked him up at the airport, Nathan sat next to Willow at the kitchen island. He couldn’t stop staring at her. From the moment he’d met her, maybe even before then, she’d taken his breath away, and now, she’d asked him to move in with her when he was discharged! She’d told him she loved him! There wasn’t a bastard on this planet luckier than him.

  He hadn’t hesitated with his reply—he wanted to be wherever she was. He loved her, more than he could express with words, although he’d done his best to tell and show her that in bed a little while ago. He’d meant what he said—if she hadn’t asked, he’d planned to slowly creep into every facet of her life, until one day, she turned around and realized he was living there.

  They were seated side-by-side, eating sandwiches and recovering from their bout of mind-blowing love making. Reaching across to her plate, he snagged one of her Doritos, popping it into his mouth and crunching down.

  “Hey! That’s mine. You have your own!” Willow stole some of his chips in retaliation, but he just grinned.

  “What’s yours is mine, right, since I’m going to be living here soon?” After leaning over and pecking a quick kiss on her lips, he finished the last of his food and gathered their empty plates, setting them in the sink to be washed later. He had other things he wanted to do right now. Namely being his woman. To be near her was to want her.

  He poured a glass of water, downing it in a few gulps. He’d need to keep hydrated.

  “No, what’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is also mine. Duh.”

  Leaving the glass beside the sink, he looked over at her and grinned. “Cheeky wench.” Swiftly rounding the island and grabbing her off the stool, he bent down and slung her up and over his shoulder. She squealed and slapped at his ass and thighs. Shifting her weight more evenly onto his shoulder, he made his way to the hallway that led to her, their bedroom.

  “Put me down, dammit! Nathan!” She was laughing so hard and wiggling so much, he was afraid he was going to drop her.

  He smacked her ass in return. “Keep it up woman, and you won’t get your prize.” Rubbing his hand over where he’d spanked her, he decided he kinda liked it, so he did it again, imagining her pretty ass bright pink with his handprints. His already hard cock thickened even further at the thought.

  She immediately froze. “Prize?”

  “Yeah, only good wenches get my prized stud services.”

  “Stud services! You’ve got quite the opinion of yourself, don’t you!?” She dug her fingers into his sides, tickling him mercilessly.

  “Stop it! Fuck, I—” A loud pounding on the front door interrupted them, just as they reached the entrance to the bedroom. Willow’s hands stilled, and he set her gently onto her feet. Her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with laughter. Whoever was at the door better have a damn good reason for being there because, if not, they might just have to die—slowly. “Expecting someone?”

  “Nope. I’ve no clue who that could be. Probably Jeremiah ignoring your mandate to stay away for the weekend, so you can have me all to yourself.”

  “If it is, I’ll kill him.”

  The knocking came again—whoever it was, they weren’t exactly being patient. Shrugging, she hurried past him into the foyer where she flipped on the porch light and opened the door.

  “Willow, baby.” A man’s voice Nathan didn’t recognize broke through the last of the lingering joy from their roughhousing. Baby? No one gets to call her that but me, he thought before following her to the door.

  Willow’s back straightened, and there was no mistaking the tension that suddenly appeared in her shoulders or the anger in her tone when she said, “What the fuck are you doing here? Did my shotgun not get my point across, asshole?”

  Rushing forward the last few steps, Nathan stopped behind her and glared over her shoulder at a stranger standing on the porch. Shotgun? He remembered Willow telling him about confronting her ex, so this must be him—Andrew Phelps.

  The asshole had some balls showing up here again. He wasn’t dressed for the weather and seemed unwashed. Thick black circles lined his watery gray eyes. His brown hair hung limp and dirty over his sweat-dotted brow.

  “Willow, who’s this?” Nathan asked, even though he’d already figured it out. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he adopted the same expression he wore when dealing with idiot privates at work.

  “Who am I? Who the fuck are you? Get your hands off my wife!” His face turned the color of a tomato, and his fists clenched at his sides as he glowered at Nathan.

  Raising a brow, Nathan stared down at the smaller man, whose sweaty face and greasy hair shimmered under the yellow glow of the porch light. He knew the shotgun was beside the door but didn’t think he’d need it. Hell, he probably wouldn’t need more than one hand to deal with this arrogant nasty piece of garbage. What the hell had Willow seen in him?

  “Wife? Try again, dipshit,” he spat while gently pushing Willow to the side and confronting the asshole head on. “Actually, scratch that, no need. I know who you are—you’re the sorry excuse of an ex-husband who was such a piece of shit that you thought sticking your tiny dick in Willow’s best friend was a good idea.” He stepped forward, forcing the smaller man to retreat to the top of the porch stairs. “I’m Staff Sergeant Nathan Casey, and I have the training, the ability, and trust me, the desire to kill you with my bare fucking hands. You’re not welcome here, not now, not ever, and I suggest you get your ass gone before I take some frustration out on your face. Got me?” He punctuated his last words with a hard jab to Phelps’s chest.

  The other man blanched, going sickly pale as he stumbled backward, tripping down the steps and falling flat on his ass in the snow.

  “Willow?” The fight seemed to seep out of Phelps as he mewled pathetically. “Please. I just need help. Th-there’s these guys—I owe them money.”

  She stepped out onto the porch next to Nathan, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked pissed and absolutely gorgeous in her anger. Fuck, he wanted nothing more than to get back to what they’d started before this asswipe had showed up. “None of that sounds like it’s my problem. Nothing that has to do with you has been my problem for a very long time, and it’s going to stay that way. I’m not giving you a cent, and nothing you say or do will ever change my mind. Leave. Now. I won’t tell you again.”

  Nathan descended the steps and nudged the prone man’s leg with the toe of his boot. “And don’t come back. Lose her number too. Understand?”

  Rage stole across Phelps’s face again as if a switch had been flipped, and Nathan wondered if the guy was on something to promote such rapid changes in response. “Fuck you! You have her now, but I had her first.” Scrambling to his feet, he glared at them both, his hate-filled gaze stopping on Willow. “You think you’re so much better than me, you stupid bitch. You have no idea.”

  Nathan saw red, and his fist shot out before he realized he’d decided to act. His punch connected with Phelps’s jaw with a crack, dropping him like a stone in a pond as his l
egs crumpled and he landed in an unconscious heap of tangled limbs.

  A heavy sigh resounded from behind Nathan. “Well, guess I’m calling the sheriff, huh?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Yeah, I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him. Toss me my coat will ya, baby? It’s cold as hell out here.” He almost laughed about how nonchalant they both were considering what’d just happened. Nothing to see here folks, just some jackass passed out in the snow.

  After throwing him the coat, she only left the door open a crack, probably to keep the heat and Ethel inside, and walked deeper into the house. Moments later, he could hear her muffled conversation with Sheriff Grady Minor. Glaring down at her ex, Nathan debated on hauling the asshole by his feet out of the snowbank and up onto the porch but decided against it. Let him freeze.

  “This was not how I saw this night going, you fucker.” He wanted to plant his boot into the bastard’s side, but he had more honor than that.

  Phelps was just coming to, groaning and rolling over, when Sheriff Minor arrived in his department-issued SUV. The lawman must not have been too far away, since he’d gotten there rather quickly.

  “Sheriff Minor, evening.” Nathan nodded, keeping his bare hands tucked into his coat pockets, since he’d left his gloves in Willow’s truck when they’d gotten home. “Got some trash for you.”

  “I see that.” Glaring at the man struggling to his feet, the sheriff grabbed Phelps’s upper arm to help him stand, with obvious reluctance.

  “I want to press charges! He punched me!” Phelps spit blood into the snow and tried to jerk his arm free from the sheriff’s grip, like a five-year-old brat throwing a tantrum.

  The only thing he succeeded in doing was pissing off Grady further if his thunderous expression was anything to go by. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. You see, the thing is, you’re trespassing. Again. I warned you not to come back here. Actually, I’m surprised you risked it after what happened last time. If you’re not careful, boy, Willow will shoot your balls off. She’s been practicing with that shotgun, and I doubt she’ll miss the next time—intentionally or not. Now, hands behind your back.” Pulling his cuffs free from his duty belt, he turned a loudly protesting Phelps around, before quickly and efficiently securing his wrists. “You’re under arrest. I usually wait until I get a suspect back to the station before saying, ‘you have the right to remain silent,’ and all that jazz. But since I don’t want to listen to your pathetic whining on the way there, you have the right to remain silent—please freaking use it—otherwise anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right . . .”

  Nathan tuned out the rest as he glanced up at Willow who was standing on the porch with her winter coat on, scowling at her ex. He climbed the steps and wrapped her in his arms, wanting to reassure himself she was okay. He hated that Phelps had the power to upset her—he just hoped this was the last time.

  When she slid her arms around his waist, he kissed the crown of her head. “Sorry, baby. I don’t normally go around punching people.”

  “Nathan, honey, you didn’t do anything I haven’t wanted to do for years. Thank you.” She tilted her chin up and brushed her lips across his. “You’re like my knight in shining armor. Or rather, my soldier boy in body armor.”

  “Oh, really?” He liked the sound of that. Well, not the boy part, but he’d pay her back for that later—when they were both naked.

  Grady finished loading the still complaining Phelps into the caged back seat of his SUV, shut the door, and walked over to them. “I’m going to assume this idiot was threatening you two, and that’s why he got cold-cocked and is spitting blood.”

  “Yup.” Trying and failing for a look of pure innocence, Willow tucked her free hand into Nathan’s back pocket, as he swallowed a bark of laughter. Damn, he missed living in a small town.

  “At least it wasn’t the shotgun again this time. Less paperwork.” Shaking hands with both, the sheriff bid them goodnight, got into his vehicle, and drove away.

  Nathan pulled Willow back into his arms. “Tonight was eventful in a way I wasn’t expecting. Next time you tell me you love me though, can we do it without the ex-husband and police?”

  “No promises.” Smirking, Willow rose on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Groaning into her willing mouth, he grabbed her ass and hauled her up against his body, silently urging her to put her legs around his waist, which she did without hesitation. He wasn’t sure how he managed to get them into the house and shut the door, without falling, but he did it. Not pausing, he carried her down the hall, into her room, and to her bed—soon to be their bed. Placing her on it, he followed her down, losing himself in the woman of his dreams.

  “Now, where were we?” he asked against her throat, running his hand down her side and hiking her leg over his hip. “Ah, about right here, I think.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Four months later . . .

  Nathan grabbed the last box from the horse trailer and carried it into the house. Ethan Rivers, one of Jeremiah’s ranch hands, and his cousin, Shane, who was Willow’s new hand, had driven to Kansas to help Nathan haul all his possessions and his family’s stuff, that’d still been in storage, up to Wyoming. Over the past few days, he and Willow had slowly emptied the trailer and neatly piled anything they could unpack at a later date in one of the two spare bedrooms and the attic. His clothes and toiletries were already in the bedroom suite he was sharing with her from now on. He loved seeing his belongings next to hers—it gave him a sense of home that he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a kid.

  He was officially retired from the Army. A day after the farewell party his friends had insisted on throwing for him, he’d gotten into his truck and followed Ethan and Shane north to Wyoming. One of his buddies had taken over his share of the lease on his and Zach’s apartment, moving in with the other man, so Nathan hadn’t needed to worry about that. It’d been six weeks since he’d last been in Antelope Rock, and he hadn’t been able to get back there fast enough to satisfy him. If he hadn’t needed the trailer for all his stuff, he might’ve sold the damn truck and hopped on the first flight he could get with just the clothes on his back.

  He hadn’t taken leave for Thanksgiving or Christmas—he’d always volunteered to work those holidays, letting the guys with kids and big families have them off, so instead, he’d invited Willow to Kansas to celebrate with him. Jeremiah and Dale had promised her they could take care of everything while she was gone, including Ethel, Fred, and the chickens. She’d been nervous about leaving the two men to handle the ranch, worried there would be a bloodbath when she returned. But after both trips, she’d been relieved to find the two men still very much alive without any visible battle scars.

  Nathan had loved introducing her to his buddies and their families. Several of the Army wives and girlfriends had taken her under their wings while she’d been visiting and helped make her feel like she was one of them. She had taken particular pleasure in seeing him come home from work in uniform every day. Not that he’d had it on long once he’d closed the door.

  He grinned remembering how she’d greeted him Christmas Day in nothing but her cowboy hat and boots, and tattoos. As always, his eyes had immediately zoomed in on her nipple rings, but he’d gotten a laugh when noticing she’d changed the steel horseshoe shaped hoops for straight barbells with sparkling red Santa hats on either end. He’d murmured, “Merry Christmas to me,” before pouncing on her.

  For New Year’s Eve, Nathan had surprised her by flying up and having Ethan pick him up at the airport. One of the JP Ranch’s barns had been cleared out, and it’d seemed like half the town had been there for the big party Jeremiah threw every year. Thousands of white Christmas lights had been hung from the rafters and around all the vertical supports. A potluck buffet table had been laden with finger foods, barbecue, and at least a dozen different kinds of dessert, while beer, shots, and champagne had flowed freely. A country band
had been set up on a small stage in front of a dance floor. It’d looked like something out of the Hallmark movies that Willow wouldn’t admit she liked to watch with Jeremiah occasionally. She’d been so bummed thinking she wouldn’t see him for New Year’s that he’d known he had to make it up there, even though it had to be a short trip.

  Nathan’s woman had squealed when she’d arrived at the party and found him waiting for her, with another potted succulent in his hands for his lover who didn’t want flowers. He’d barely managed to keep it from being crushed between them before she’d thrown herself into his arms and squeezed the stuffing out of him. It’d taken everything in him not to haul her back over to her house and make passionate love to her long before the stroke of midnight.

  Since they could walk home, they’d indulged in enough alcohol that neither had protested when a few people had coaxed them into participating in some line dancing. The guests had cracked up watching how Nathan and Willow would go right whenever everyone else had gone left, and vice versa. The couple had knocked into the other dancers, laughing hysterically, and ended up clinging to one another to keep from falling on their asses. But they’d been having far too much fun to be embarrassed about it. It’d been one of the best times Nathan had experienced in years.

  Before he’d returned to Kansas for his last six weeks in the Army, Nathan had gotten Jeremiah alone for a talk. Willow’s best friend was the closest thing she had to family now, so Nathan had told Jeremiah he was going to propose to Willow after he moved in with her and asked for his blessing. One would’ve thought Nathan had given the man a million dollars the way his face had lit up in excitement. Of course, before giving his consent, Jeremiah had gone through a long spiel that covered what would happen if Nathan ever hurt Willow—in a nutshell, they’d never find his body. Wyoming was a big place, and Jeremiah was in possession of a woodchipper, so Nathan didn’t doubt the man would follow through with the threat if he ever screwed up, which he had no intention of doing.