Maybe meaningless sex wasn’t the problem. Maybe it’s justme. Maybe I’m just not the kind of guy women want forever with.
None of them have ever reallymattered.But Quinn?
She’s always meant something to me. Even though I’ve never figured out what exactly.
Loyalty to Wes should still be reason enough to tell her no. But damn if it isn’t getting harder to care when I think about sneaking around with her. It’s sounding better by the second.
Just once. Just to see.
Why the hell am I overthinking this? That’s Wes’ thing. I’m the act-now, think-later guy. Always have been.
Getting old is turning me into him, and fuck that. I don’t want to turn into that grumpy stick in the mud.
Maybe it’s time I loosen my leash a bit. Dip a toe into the deep end again. Get back in the saddle.
It’s been five years since I’ve seen any action other than my hand. And for some reason, Quinn makes it feel like all that pent-up energy’s been compounding—month after month, year after year—and now it’s just sitting there, ready to detonate.
Even as a teen, I never had this much trouble keeping my dick in check around her. But now? He’s fully alert, ready to stand at attention every time I make her smile.
Now, I can’t stop wondering how perfectly I’d fit inside her. How tight she’d feel wrapped around me. How wet and desperate she’d be—for me.
Damn it.
I blow out a sharp breath, trying to rein myself in.
Settle down, little buddy. You’ve got to spend the whole day with her—and her older brother.
But it’s hard to forget when your best friend’s little sister drops a confession like that. It’s not the kind of thing I’m likely to shake. Ever.
Wes is butchering some Garth Brooks song when I step into the stable, midway through tacking up Luci. The gelding used to spook at every unfamiliar sound, but you wouldn’t know it now. After all the time Wes and Sawyer spent training him, he’s nearly as devoted to Wes as Wes is to him.
I greet June and lead her to the hitching post before grabbing a saddle. I’m halfway through tacking her up when Quinn walks in, and I freeze—momentarily distracted by the way the sunrise kisses her skin, giving her a near-ethereal glow. She looks like a damn goddess.
June’s ears twitch as Quinn smiles, soft and serene, offering the horse the back of her hand. The mare chuffs.
“Hey, June girl. You ready to go riding?”
June shifts her weight, ready to get this show on the road.
“I still need to tack up Cash.”
“I can do it,” she says, already ducking into the tack room. She grabs Cash’s saddle, but I pluck it from her hands before she can haul it across the stable.
“I can carry it,” she huffs.
“I’ve got it. Go grab Cash from his stall and bring him outside.” I let her brush past me in the cramped tack room, keeping both hands glued to the saddle.
God knows I want to steady her—hands on her hips, guiding her around the mess of equipment Wes left strewn across the floor.
“Since when are you such a gentleman?” Wes grumbles from Luci’s stall.
“I’ve always been a gentleman, asshole,” I holler over my shoulder as I stalk out of the stable. “You just weren’t around to see it until recently.”
Wes had been living in the city, same as Quinn, until last fall. He’d only come back to talk Pops into selling the ranch after his first heart attack—and somehow ended up falling for the place all over again. I guess this place has a way of pulling you in and making you want to stick around.
Quinn and Cash make a beautiful pair walking out of the stable—light and dark, soft and strong, steady and solid.
“You’re so handsome,” she says, scratching Cash behind his ears before slipping the lead into the hitching ring.
