“I’m sorry.”
“You said that already.”
Now I’m the one fighting a smile.
His gaze lowers to my T-shirt. “Kappa Kappa Gamma?”
At first I’m confused, and then I remember I borrowed Emily’s little sister’s shirt. I was never a sorority girl, not by a long shot.
I shake my head. “Not mine. I borrowed it. I’m a few years past that stage in life.”
His chin lifts, his nod slow and measured. “Are you a friend of Jason’s?”
A smile tugs on the corner of my mouth. “I’ve known him for less than half a day. I’m guessing you’ve known him for longer than that?”
“Military,” he answers, and then nothing more.
I’m quiet, waiting for him to make the next move. And he does.
He holds out his hand again, and this time I know it’s for me. My hand sinks into his, and when our skin touches the goose bumps covering me turn into tiny fires. But these flames? They feel so very good.
His eyes widen just the tiniest amount. His lower lip peels away from his upper, leaving a thin space between them. A flash of fear darts across his face.
“Wes,” he grits, as if his name can barely make it past other words stuck in his throat.
“Dakota.” My voice trembles, which is fitting, because at this moment it feels as if there’s an earthquake shaking me from the inside out.
He tugs gently, bringing me closer.
It’s inevitable.
This.Us.
I step into his arms, and it doesn’t feel new. It feels like the place where I belong, and am only late arriving to.
2
Wes
Present day
“Which one of you fuck faces didn’t count the herd yesterday?” Harsh and angry, my voice slams through Cowboy House and into the ears of the sleeping cowboys.
Josh scrambles from bed, reaching for his boots without a thought to the pajamas he’s still wearing. Denny, Bryce, and Markham (who everyone calls Ham, instead of Mark), are slower to sit up, but even they are moving, pushing up from bed and rubbing at their eyes. It’s Troy who’s still in bed, and I’d bet my last shiny penny he’s the asshole who left a heifer in the field. How the wolves didn’t get to her, God only knows.
With narrowed eyes locked in on Troy’s sleeping form, I stride forward. The wary gazes of the other men bounce off my blue and yellow flannel shirt. Here in Cowboy House, I’m the wolf.
Troy’s closely cropped blond head is all that’s visible. The rest of his body lies nestled beneath the standard-issue Hayden Cattle Company navy blue blanket, as if his mother came and tucked him in.Snug as a bug in a fucking rug.
I flick his ear with my middle finger, the same way my dad did to me and my brothers when we were younger. Difference is, we learned to stop being idiots. I don’t know that Troy ever will.
Troy yelps and his eyes fly open. He takes me in, and I watch the understanding dawn in those ridiculous blue eyes of his.
“Get up,” I growl at him.
Even this he does slowly, and my irritation soars. When I wake up at five every morning, I get out of bed like a man, not this pussified joke stretching out his arms in front of me right now.
“Were you the one to count heads yesterday?”
