Next summer I’ll be on the rodeo circuit full time, like I’ve been working toward, and she’ll be at college. And her summers in Cottonwood Creek will come to an end.
“One dance,” I agree.
I see Allie and Sawyer dancing in the middle of the crowd and allow Quinn to pull me onto the dance floor as a new song starts to play.
I keep her right hand in mine and settle the other on her hip, maintaining a respectful distance from her, even though everything in me is dying to pull her closer, hold her tighter, have every curve of her body flush against me. We sway to the song playing over the speakers, her hands soft and small in mine.
“Thanks for checking on me tonight,” she says, her words nearly drowned out by the music.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her not to thank me, that I’m the reason her night was ruined in the first place. But instead, I let the beautiful lie slide past my lips.
“Always, Quinnie. I’ll always be there when you need me.”
Rumor Mill
Tripp
Quinnie
Did you remember the list we made for the hardware store?
Yes. But I’m still waiting for that other list...
You know... the one with all the kinky stuff you wanna try.
If I give you the whole list all at once, you might run away screaming
Or maybe I’d run straight to the ranch to fuck you exactly how youwant me to.
You’re filthy.
So are you, honey. And I love it.
Every spare moment I’ve gotten in the last week has been spent either thinking about Quinn or pulling her into every dark, quiet corner of the ranch I can find, but it’s not enough.
We still haven’t had sex. And I’m not sure why I’m holding off.
Maybe I’m waiting for the perfect moment—for it to mean something even though we both pinky swore this is casual, a way to figure out what she likes, to find herself. I might just be a willing body to her, but Quinn means something to me—whether she realizes it or not.
Pops comes home tomorrow, which means the time Quinn’s been giving me this week will go to making sure he does everything he’s supposed to for his health.
And keeping this thing between us quiet? That’s only going to get harder—because I want her every second I’m not working. I am obsessed with watching Quinn Dawson come. It’s my new favorite pastime. Touching her. Tasting her. Making her gasp my name.
I roll into town on my one and only morning off. Main Street is buzzing with activity. I should have asked Quinn to come with me. She might have liked to roam the small farmer’s market while I run to the hardware store. But maybe that’s boyfriend territory—not casual whatever-this-is territory.
I wander into the small shop, and Jim gives me a gap-toothed smile. “Tripp, my boy, need help finding anything?”
“Nah, I’ve got a list,” I say, waving the piece of paper in the air.
Quinn had insisted on helping me make a list of supplies for Winston’s new enclosure. I’ve been too busy making her come to think much about the pig. He’s getting ornerier by the day in that cramped barn stall, andit’s only a matter of time before he starts wrecking shit out of pure boredom.
Jim leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “I hear Vern’s coming home soon.”
I grab some screws and toss them in the basket. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
“How long’s Quinn sticking around?”
I shrug. “A while. I don’t think she’s going anywhere until Pops is back on his feet.”
