Mo sighs as we come to a stop in front of the house. “I love this place.”
She slides from the truck, and I come around to meet her. Hand in hand, we walk up the stairs to the front porch. I open the door and turn to scoop Mo into my arms.
She squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck. “What are you doing?”
“I’m carrying you over the threshold.”
“But we’re not married.”
“Don’t care, Mo.” I kiss her lips and step into the house. “This is our house now.”
I lower her to the ground, and her eyes shine up at me. “Our house, huh?”
I nod. “If that’s okay with you. I know we have a lot to talk about, but I love it here, and I was thinking we could keep it.”
“I love it here too. Of course you should keep it, especially since it’s so close to your training facility.”
“About that…” I reach for her hand and lead her to the couch. She sits down next to me, and I pull her legs across my lap. “I think the doctors are right. With my history of injuries, it’s getting too dangerous for me to continue.”
Mo takes a deep breath, pulls her feet from my lap, and straddles my legs. With a knee pressed to the couch on either side of my hips, she rests her hands on my chest. I hold her waist and wait for her to talk.
“Don’t do this because of me. I’m here for you, Rhett, and I’m not going anywhere. I want you to retire because you’re ready for it.”
“That’s the thing. I am. Last night was wonderful, and it felt final. I put Lucifer in his place, and I’ve achieved all I could ever want. Before you, I didn’t have much to come home to. I think deep down I didn’t worry about getting hurt, because it was just me. But that’s different now. I don’t want to risk my future with you for eight seconds on the bull.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ve thought about training other riders, but mostly I think I’d like to take over Allen Family Ranch.”
“Really?”
I nod. “I’ve always loved working there, and Dad is getting ready to start cutting back. Trevor’s heart is in firefighting—he doesn’t want the ranch to be his career—so this is perfect timing.”
“What about your sponsors?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to look into that. If anything, I might have to finish out the season, but it’s almost over.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad. If you start working at the ranch, does that mean you’ll move back to Heaven?”
“Yeah. I’ll buy a house, or build one, but like I said, I’d like to keep this place, too.”
Mo’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “I have the perfect place for you to build.”
“Us. For us to build.”
Her eyes shine with happiness, and my heart soars.
“Tell me about this perfect place,” I urge.
“You remember that spot at Animal Haven where my dad always wanted to build?”
“Yeah. By the pond. It’s gorgeous out there.”
“We can build there.”
I can’t believe we’re talking about this—making plans for a future, talking about building a house. It’s all a little surreal.
“And what about your dad?”
“I sat down with him and Sharon after you left last Friday. He’s going to move in with her just as soon as I get everything situated.”
“Wow. That’s a big step. You’re okay with this?”
“More than okay. There’s more.” She grins. “He’s giving me Animal Haven. Once I get a few things with my life figured out and get on my feet, we can build out there. It might take a couple of years, but we’ll get there.”
We’ll get there sooner than that. I have enough money saved up to build her dream home. But I also know Mo, and she won’t go for that right out of the gate. I’ll have to work her up to the idea.
“What do you have to figure out?” I ask.
“I want to go back to school.”
I can feel a smile splitting my face. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re going to make a great veterinarian.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I want to take some business classes, something that will help me with what I love now. What I love now is running Animal Haven. I’d like to figure out how to hire some help so I’m not killing myself, and I want to grow it into so much more—take on more animals and offer obedience training. I’ve even looked into a program where I would team up with inmates to train dogs who can then be adopted.”
“I’ve heard of those programs.”
“It’ll take time and patience, but I’m willing to put in the effort.”
I nod. “And I’ll be there to help you. We’ll grow it together.”
“You’d want to help me with Animal Haven?”
“Have you listened to a word I’ve said over the last twenty-four hours?”
She laughs when I nibble her neck. “We’re in this together. It’s me and you moving forward. We build this life together.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Yeah?”
She laughs. “Yeah.”
“I love you, Monroe Gallagher. I always have. Can I show you something?”
Monroe
Rhett lifts me from his lap, grabs my hand, and leads me toward the barn. We hop on the four-wheeler.
I wrap my arms around his waist and drop my chin to his shoulder. “Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I squeal, tightening my grip when we take off, and when we pull up to the same lookout spot he brought me to before, I climb off.
“Sorry to disappoint you cowboy, but this isn’t really a surprise—although I do love it out here.”
“I love it too, and there’s something else I want to show you. Something better,” he whispers.
“How can there possibly be anything better than this view?”
“See that tree over there?” he asks, pointing off to the left.
I turn my head, and he takes the opportunity to press a kiss along the side of my neck.
“That one?” I ask, pointing to a tree about thirty feet away. I didn’t notice it last time we were out here.
“That’s the one. It’s a Red Sunset maple. It’s only about twenty feet tall now, but it’ll grow to be fifty. In the fall, it turns a stunning shade of red. I planted it out here as soon as I bought the property.”
“Just because?”
Taking my hand again, Rhett moves toward the tree. We’re a couple of yards away when I see a heart engraved near the base. Pressure builds behind my eyes, but I refuse to look back at Rhett.
With a hand covering my mouth, I step away from him and kneel in front of the tree, running my fingers over our initials. They’re carved into the base of this tree, just like the ones on our old oak tree at his parents’ ranch.
“Rhett,” I breathe, finally looking up at him.
His hands are in his pockets, a thoughtful look in his eye when he smiles back at me.
“I bought this place after my first win with the PBR. Didn’t tell a soul—not Dad or Coop, not even you.”
“You were so young.”
“Age doesn’t matter. I might’ve been young and dumb, but I knew what I wanted. I planted this tree the day of the closing because I wanted to have a place to bring you…a place like our spot at the ranch.”
I blink down at our initials, trying to picture him out here carving the tree with nothing but me in mind. If he’d known I was going to break his heart, he might’ve done things differently.
“After you…” He pauses, his eyes darting to the side.
“Lied,” I finish for him. “It’s okay; you can say it.”
He smiles and reaches for my hand, pulling me to my feet. “After that, I hated this place. I hated this tree and everything it represented, because I’d bought this place for us. I tried over and over to convince myself I could still live here, sow my wild oats, and eventually raise a family with someone else.
But that never felt right. I tried to bring women here—”
“Rhett.” I hold up a hand and take a step back. “I’d really rather not hear this.”
He snags my wrist, drawing me back in. “But I need to say it. Just hear me out, okay?”
I nod.
“I tried to bring women here to prove to myself that I could move on, that you weren’t still a part of me, but I never made it farther than the driveway. Every single time, I came up with an excuse to leave or go back to their place, and do you know why, Mo?”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I shake my head.
“Because every time I looked at the house, I saw you. So I tried to sell it. Couldn’t do that either, because every time I put it on the market, I got physically sick. Selling it was like admitting whatever we had was gone. I believe now that my heart knew we weren’t over. That’s why I couldn’t sell the house. That’s why the only women to set foot inside have been my mom and Adley.
You and I, we were always meant to get to this place,” he says, cupping my face in his hands. “It just took us a little longer. We had a few obstacles to overcome, but we made it. I don’t regret the empty nights when I drowned myself in the bottle, or the anger I felt toward you, because all of that—all of those feelings—led me here.” His soft lips land on mine. “And here is the place I’ve always dreamed of.”
“Rhett.” My throat clogs, making it difficult to speak. I grip the soft flannel of his shirt in my fist, holding him to me as tears stream down my face. “I’m so sorry I did that to you.”
“No. Don’t do that to yourself. We’ve been through all that. I didn’t tell you this to upset you. I told you because for the last six years, you’ve gone about your life thinking I’d moved on, and that kills me. I need you to know you were always here.” He lifts my hand, placing it over his heart.
He drops his forehead to mine, kisses my nose, and then kisses away my tears.
“Thank you.” I give him a tremulous smile. “I love you so much.”
“Say it again,” he whispers.
“I love you.”
“One more time.”
“I love you,” I say with every fiber of my being. “I’m always going to love you—I always have loved you.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
Want more? Keep reading for a sneak peek at Crazy Hot Love (Trevor and Claire's book), book 2 in the Dirty Dicks series. Buy Crazy Hot Love here ...
Chapter One
Claire
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
“Stop it,” Mo admonishes, her voice cracking via Bluetooth through the speaker of my car. “He’s nice.”
Monroe Gallagher has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. She’s seen me through every up, down, twist, and turn life has thrown my way, and I love her to pieces, which is why I don’t strangle her every time she tries to set me up with some guy.
“He’s your accountant, Mo. This is so cliché.”
“And he’s a damn good accountant. Plus, he’s cute, and nothing about this is cliché.”
“What if he has some weird foot fetish you don’t know about?”
“He’s not weird—although the foot fetish is entirely possible. I did notice him paying extra attention to my shoes during our last meeting.”
“I’m calling him to cancel.”
“I’m joking.” She laughs. “You’re not canceling. Come on, Claire, trust me. I wouldn’t set you up with a weirdo. Joseph is a nice, stable guy.”
Joseph Berry. Twenty-seven. Accountant. Never married. No kids. And I let Mo talk me into going on a date with him. It’s the fourth date I’ve been on in four months—with a different guy every time. Each one has been better than the last, but still no one with potential longevity.
I guess this is what happens when you’re pushing thirty and your best friend decides to settle down; she suddenly feels the need to play matchmaker.
I think back on all the guys I’ve dated over the years. Each one was dependable, with a steady, safe job that would ensure he came home every night, and enough social politeness to get along with my group of friends. What more could a girl ask for? Except maybe some wild, hot sex and orgasms that aren’t self-delivered. Unfortunately, those relationships failed due to lack of attraction. Mostly on my part, but whatever.
Maybe Joseph will be different.
Oh hell, who am I kidding? He’s the same type of guy I always go after; there’s no way he’s going to be different—suit pants perfectly pressed, hair coifed with just enough gel to leave you wondering if he used any, and a bright smile. How do I know this? Instagram. Yup, that’s right. I stalked him before agreeing to this date, and the only thing I could find wrong was an overabundance of pictures of him and his mother.
But that’s not always a bad thing, right?
Shit. I haven’t even met Joseph, and I already know things with him will fall into the same boring category as they do with every other guy I meet. My love life is absolutely pathetic.
Maybe it’s time I step out of my box. With each date I tell myself this, yet nothing has changed.
“Maybe I don’t want nice or stable,” I announce, unsure if I’m trying to convince myself or Mo.
I can practically hear her roll her eyes through the phone. “Come on, Claire. We all know that other than the teeny-tiny crush you’ve had on Trevor, you’ve never had a thing for anyone who doesn’t fit into your neat, perfect box.”
Trevor Allen. Twenty-five. Firefighter. Ladies’ man. Little brother to two of my best friends—Cooper and Rhett Allen—and he’s been in my life for years. Most people wouldn’t find anything wrong with Trevor’s statistics. In fact, he’s one of Heaven’s hottest bachelors, but to me they read more like this: Trevor Allen. Four years younger than me. Unsafe job that doesn’t guarantee he’ll come home at night. Afraid to commit. And to top it off, he also works at his dad’s ranch, and I’ll have you know ranching is listed as one of the top-ten most dangerous jobs in America.
I never thought of Trevor as anything more than my friends’ little brother. I thought he was cute in a scrawny sort of way—until I moved back after college. I’ll never forget walking out of the grocery store and running into him. Literally. My fruit went flying, along with my brain cells when I looked up and up into his bright blue eyes. That puny kid had turned into a chiseled hunk of man. Square jaw, straight nose, thick black lashes, and a smile made to drop panties.
I haven’t quite been the same since.
I frown. Putting on my blinker, I make a left turn. “There is no neat, perfect box.”
“Bullshit. What about Hot Cop? Remember him?”
How could I forget? Phillip Rodriguez—also known as Hot Cop—pulled me over for speeding. With a sexy smile that probably ensured he got whatever the hell he wanted, he offered me a date or a citation. Much to Mo’s dismay, I graciously accepted the ticket and vowed never to speed again.
“And what about Dean Weathers?”
Sigh. Dreamy Dean. He was three years older than us. After high school, he went off to become a professional race car driver—and succeeded. Everyone in town worships him, proudly supporting his #2 car on their hats and T-shirts. I even jump on the bandwagon from time to time. I’ve tuned in to a few of his races. Anyway, Dean came home last year for his grandmother’s funeral. We met up at the coffee shop, had a delightful conversation, and when he asked me out, I politely declined. I could see that relationship speeding down the wrong track from a mile away.
No pun intended.
“Blake Mathews,” Mo says, ticking off another name on the long list of Opportunities Missed by Claire.
Beautiful Blake. Typical surfer. With long blond hair most women would swoon over, he practically invented the man-bun, long before it ever became a thing. Tall, broad shoulders, blue eyes, and a perfect sun-kissed tan, he is every woman’s fantasy—mine included, until he went off and became a pilot.
“Tucker Adams.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. You can stop with names.”
I realize I’ve been a tad irrational, but I’ve also seen what the death of a spouse looks like. My father was a firefighter. Thirteen years ago, his crew responded to a school up in flames. He saved several children’s lives that day and was killed when the building collapsed. His death left a gaping hole in my life—and my mother’s.
For years I lay in bed at night and listened to my mother cry. She cried for hours until her sobs turned into hiccups, and she’d eventually cry herself to sleep. A few times I snuck into her room afterward to find her clutching a picture of them on their wedding day.
I was constantly reminded of how much she lost. I lost my father—a man who had been a solid presence in my life for sixteen beautiful years. But Mom lost so much more than her husband. She lost her best friend, her confidant. She lost the person she ran to every time something good or bad happened in her life. They had twenty years of marriage between them and ten years of dating on top of that.
He was her hero—still is.
He’s also a town hero, a household name around these parts, and I miss him every single day. He looked out for Mom and me like we were the most precious beings in the world. I can still hear my father’s voice in my head telling me to be safe. It didn’t matter if I was going to school, outside to play, or the movies with friends.
Just be safe, Claire Bear. Whatever you do, use a level head and be safe.
I’ve carried those words with me, and somewhere along the way they morphed into so much more than a memory. They’ve become the golden rule in my life—one I try to live by every single day.
I could never survive that sort of loss and pain again—and I want to make my father proud—which is why I’ve made a conscious effort to follow his advice, even when it comes to dating. That’s why I date men whose jobs lean away from hazardous and more toward pencil pusher.
“Are you sure?” she says, laughing. “Because I’ve got several more I can throw out there.”
Crazy Sexy Love (A Dirty Dicks Novel) Page 25
