Pathetic. I can’t believe we’ve fallen so easily, but then again, when you’ve denied yourself something for so long, it’s easy to dive all in regardless of how deep the water is.
Sunday morning, after feeding cattle and trying to coax a horse from trying to commit suicide by taking a dip in the pond, I find myself doing snow angels in the field with the kids and Kacy.
“I’ve never made a snow angel before,” she tells Camdyn.
“You haven’t?” Camdyn asks, rolling over to lay flat on her back and stare at the cloudless sky. Thankfully this first snowstorm has passed, but we have another on the way next week. Today, it’s sunny, windy as usual, but the perfect day to have the kids outside.
“Nope. Never seen snow until I came here.” She smiles at my daughter, and I want to know what that smile looks like at 6:00 a.m. with sunlight on her skin.
I’m addicted to her wild. I’m beginning to crave it.
“Daddy!” Camdyn sits up, motioning me forward. “Come do one with us.”
I turn to see where Sev is. She’s standing next to the house staring at a bucket she’s probably thinking of getting herself stuck in later. “Don’t you dare get in that bucket, little girl.”
Sev snaps her mischievous eyes to mine. Maybe she’s wishing she could put me in it. You never know with this kid.
I step closer, righting my gloves, and walk toward Camdyn. Standing over her, I widen my stance, and her eyes brighten, laughter on her red lips. I make it look like I’m going to fall on top of her. “Don’t move,” I warn, winking.
She freezes, body stick straight, and covers her eyes with her hands, giggling.
Carefully, I fall forward only to catch myself on my hand in a push-up position. It hurts my fucking elbows like crazy, but I don’t let on. I’m trying to impress the girl next to me like a fool.
Camdyn’s laughter rings through the field, everything else snow-silent and glistening like glass, including the one I’m dying to peel back the layers on and beg for her thoughts.
Camdyn leaves us after that, coaxing Sev from the covered porch as they build a snowman near the house. The snow is powdery and won’t stick to anything, but they try.
“I love it here,” Kacy says, staring up at the sky, flat on her back next to me. “When I left California, I had no destination in mind, but I’m liking Texas.”
My heart beats a little harder. “Thinking of staying?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Hope swells in my chest, and it’s unfamiliar but not unwanted like I thought it would be. When Tara left, I told myself I wouldn’t fall in love again. I wouldn’t put myself in that position again. And now look at me.
Frustrated, I shift my position on the ground and sit up, keeping an eye on the kids.
“Are you cold?” Kacy asks, sitting next to me in the snow.
“My balls are.”
I don’t know if she’s never heard a man talk like that, which I find unbelievable, or maybe she has hypothermia. Whatever the reason, she starts laughing to the point she can’t breathe. Between all that, it’s her smile that gets me. Warm. Sexy. Addicting. It’s times like these that I remember how badly love can burn you if you’re not careful.
Three days ago, this girl crashed into my life, and it’s getting harder and harder to picture her leaving it. Blowing out a breath, I stare up the sky as I ask, “Every Sunday we have supper at my dad’s. You wanna come?”
“What’s supper?”
I laugh, realizing she’s from California, and they probably don’t call it that. “Like… dinner.”
“Well.” She bumps her shoulder into mine. “You are holding me hostage on this ranch. I don’t think I have much of a choice if I want to eat.”
“Then it’s decided. You’ll come.”
“Hopefully soon.” She sighs, resting her head against my shoulder.
Groaning, I shake my head, wishing I could roll her over and have my way with her. But I’m not sure my dick will work in this cold. “You’re killing me.”
Every Sunday, the kids and I have supper with my dad, Lara Lynn, Morgan, and Carly. It’s kinda been a tradition since the kids were little. What I’m not expecting is Carly to be there.
“Wait, that’s his wife?” Kacy asks after they’re introduced, and we’re rummaging through my dad’s liquor cabinet. I can hear the kids’ laughter in the other room and my dad’s gruff chuckle that follows.
“Yep.”
“I thought they were getting a divorce?” She stares at them in the family room, looking every bit as uncomfortable as two people do at the end of a marriage.
“They are… I think.”
“Weird.”
“Not really.” I pour us each a glass of whiskey.
Kacy takes the glass in her hands, holding it near her lips. “Does Morgan have kids?”
“Nope.” Twisting the cap back on the whiskey, I place it back in the cabinet. “Ripped his nut sac on a bull.”
“What? Really?”
“Yep. Can’t father children.”
Her eyes widen. “Holy crap.”
“That’s what you get for trying to ride a bull buck-ass naked.”
She grins. “I think I like your brother.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You better like me better.”
“Why’s that?”
I wink. “Because you’re sleeping… on my couch.”
“True. Good point.” She sniffs the air, eyes lighting up. “What’s the smell? Is that what’s for dinner? It smells amazing. Way better than my apartment used to smell. I’ll probably never eat Indian food again.”
I chuckle at her word vomit. “It’s the cow we slaughtered last summer.”
Her bottom lips jets out. “Don’t tell me that. I made friends with Jelly Bean in the barn yesterday, and if he gets slaughtered, I’m going to be disappointed in all cowboys.”
I laugh. “Jelly Bean is a bull.”
“What’s that have to do with anything?”
“We don’t slaughter bulls or heifers. Only steers.”
Her eyes widen. “You lost me again.”
There’s a small sense of pride swelling in my chest that she cares enough to ask questions about all this. “A steer is a castrated male, and a heifer is a female cow that hasn’t been bred.”
“And what’s a bull?”
I watch her face, her eyes, that undeniable spark between us growing stronger. I want to reach out and trace my hand down that heart-shaped face of hers and bring her lips to mine. “A male cow that hasn’t had his nuts chopped.”
And she bursts out laughing in my face.
Morgan comes into the den where we’re at and smiles at Kacy. “Ma’am,” he greets her, tipping his hat.
“You guys and your ma’am’s,” she grumbles, walking away with her drink in hand.
Chuckling to myself, he watches her leave. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.”
“What are you doing?” he asks, smiling like he knows what’s up.
“Fuck if I know.”