Again, I shake my head. “No, why?”
Olivia sighs. “Just checking.”
“What, you don’t want them?” I ask, stomach dropping.
“Maybe,” she murmurs, though she doesn’t sound too sure about that. “So, you don’t want them, then?”
I spare her a look, but the Shed comes into view. There’re already cars pulling into the lot, and a small bus load of people entering the old barn. It sits between the main lodge and the Saloon, used for weddings and dances.
I pull in quietly and cut the engine. “I want what my wife wants,” I tell her finally. “But I don’t know if I’d be a worthy father.”
I have thought about it more than once, mostly when asked by older folk who like to pry. But every time I do, I wonder if I’d be any good at it with my past hanging over me. Would I be like the man I’ve escaped? With my refusal to accept that part of myself, could I ever offer a child a good life?
Olivia nods silently without responding. I jump out of the truck, round the hood, and open the door for her. “Let’s go, darlin’.”
She sighs, but she gets out. “You have way too much energy.”
“Just wait till you see what I have planned for later,” I say with a wink.
I have a plan to take her to the local bar for another ride on the bull. As much as I think she’sher, I need to really get a feel for it. Asking won’t cut it—there’s a chance she might not even remember the night, if how today is going is any indication. But getting her on the bull might trigger a memory from that night, and I might finally know if she’s the woman who’s had my heart all this time.
The Shed is lit up with fairy lights, making the place even more magical. The tables and chairs used for weddings are pushed to the side, giving us more room to move.
I take Olivia’s hand as I guide her into the throng of people. Ahead, I catch sight of the activity’s coordinator, Cheyenne, in the background.
“I really don’t know about this,” Olivia murmurs once everyone is situated.
“Live a little,” I mutter, sliding in behind her as we’re told to partner off. “And trust me.”
Olivia looks over her shoulder at me, her lashes fluttering. There’s a soft flush on her cheeks, and when she bites down on her bottom lip, I feel my heart skip.
Fucking hell, she’s beautiful. More beautiful than the first time I saw her dancing away with my cowboy hat atop her head.
More beautiful than finding her in that crowd at the casino.
There’s just something wild and right about getting to experience this woman without the haze of alcohol controlling all my decisions.
Without releasing her, while country music plays in the background, I kiss her. At first, it’s light, just a test to see whether she feels the same. I might even say a little prayer that she’ll somehow remember me from before and all this will be easier.
At first, she meets my kiss with hesitation, but eventually she tilts her chin, deepening the moment. I swipe my tongue against the seam of her mouth, begging for entrance, praying a little harder for more.
My heart almost stops when she grants my wish. As soon as I slide my tongue into her mouth, everything within me explodes. With absolute certainty, I know this woman is the one I’ve been waiting for. There is no doubt in my mind.
But Olivia tears her mouth from mine with a gasp, eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, pulling out of my embrace. “I can’t. I really cannot be doing this.”
She doesn’t look back as she flees the Shed, disappearing into the crowd, and taking my heart with her.
SIX
OLIVIA
Ican’t breathe. Every time I try to fill my lungs I’m forced to remember his smell. His taste. The feel of him as he wraps around my body and envelops me entirely.
Flashes of the night in Vegas run through my mind. Of him holding me in the same way, except we’re not dancing, we’re in front of a guy dressed like Elvis saying our vows. I remember the kiss that night, so similar to the one we just shared, just as reverent and soft and all-consuming.
I draw in another breath, coming to a stop beside the truck, and close my eyes. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I’m not alone. I feel myself slipping into a different memory, one I’ve previously tried to hold on to yet also push aside. One that stars Christopher’s father hovering above me, his features blending into the stars.
Only now, his face isn’t the crescent moon that’d watched over us that night.
