“That’s a good thing.”
Lanie holds up a hand. I kiss her again, and she jabs me with a blessedly padded elbow. “There.”
Her finger hovers above a red spot somewhere about ground level beneath the tree line. Two more dots emerge, following the first onto a granite outcrop beyond our line of sight. We won’t be able to spot anything without the drones unless we’re on the ground right there beside them.
The wolves’ shapes become clear, the red-and-yellow flare of their heat signatures next to the blue of fast-cooling ground and pale purple of the granite chunks.
“Where is that? Where are we looking at?” Lanie stares over the treetops as the drone wobbles in its flight path.
My hands close on her shoulders, swinging her in the right direction. “Right…there.” I point, digging in my pocket for a pair of binoculars. I swap them for the drone’s screen, taking over the controls.
“They’re Grays. Two juveniles, and a female, I think. I can’t see the male.” The elation in her voice prickles my skin beneath my shirt with goose bumps. “Can we get to that area?”
I blow out a hard breath. “I don’t have a track that will take us that far in, Lanie. We could hike, but it would be a good day in and another back out. Any other week, I’d offer to do it, but this week…”
This year has been off from the moment the Invitational popped up on my damn calendar. I’m not the only one who has felt it; it’s like a curse is hovering over the event. Stock missing or stolen. Our agent, ever reliable, canceling acts. Everything feels last minute and rushed. Lanie coming into my life has been the only blessing, apart from my boys, who have been steadfast as ever. And now the bet with Jed. I have to admit my pride played a part in there, too, though the inspiration aspect I told Lanie about wasn’t a lie.
I chance a look at Lanie, her wild hair cascading around her heart-shaped face, her eyes that match the high Montana sky. She belongs here even though she doesn’t seem to know it. With my boys.
With me.
I want my forever with this woman so bad it hurts. But first, I have to get through tomorrow to make sure there is a future. Then I promise myself I’ll fight for her, all the way to Alaska, if that’s what it costs me.
“It’s okay, Cord. I get it. Maybe I can come back after—” Her words jar. She grips the binoculars hard enough to elicit a creak in the plastic.
I slip them out of her hands. “You don’t have to go.”
For the love of all things gray and furry on these mountains, please don’t leave.I can’t imagine the future of Coyote Falls without her as a part of this place. Of me.
A really big fucking part.
Lanie nods, looking me straight in the eye as the sun chooses that moment to glow right over her head. “And you don’t have to ride.”
I shove up from where I’m perched on the cliff edge beside her, striding away to thump the bed of the truck with my fist. It should hurt, but it doesn’t. I count backward from ten until my ragged breaths steady. No, I don’t have to ride. But I’ve committed to the wager, and my ethics run deeper than my business interests.
Fine fingers grazing over my skin in a close inspection. “You’re bleeding.”
I study the cracked skin over my scarred knuckles dispassionately. “I can’t feel anything.”
Lanie watches me from the side, but oddly, her gaze holds no weight. She plants her hands on her hips, a bandage I didn’t realize we brought with us dangling from her fingers.
I reach out with my undamaged hand to stroke her cheek. “Hell, you’re beautiful.”
Her eyes blaze blue flame, but her stance softens as she leans into me hand, pressing her lips to my fingers. I stand still as she flaps the bandage at me, letting her minister to my self-inflicted wound. My chin props on top of her head.
“If you don’t believe you’re coming back to this, then youwon’t. You know that.” The fear and desperation lacing her voice rings true.
Because I do know that. All too well. The psychology of bull riding is no different from any other sport—physical training is only part of the equation. I haven’t done the training this time, but I have to believe I can do this, regardless. I can’t see anything beyond the next twenty-four hours.
Hell, it’s less than that.
“I’ve brought enough supplies and my old bedroll if you want to bunk out here tonight.” I don’t look down at her, opting to study the mountainside that has been my refuge for nearly a decade.
A refuge from judgment, from the pressures the rest of the world put on me. But just when I’ve found the right woman to share it with, everything falls away.
“You’re not losing me or Coyote Falls, Cord,” Lanie says firmly, her lips tracing the words over my mouth like a promise. She reaches up and winds her hands around my neck to pull my mouth down to hers, light fingers tracing the scar at the back of my neck.
This time, I feel every single touch.
