My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I remembered mine and Hux’s little bathroom hookup, and how I’d led him into my bedroom only to find Whit sitting on my bed, the biggest shit-eating grin on her face. “We really were just talking.”
She cackled. Like, full on cackled and smacked me with the pillow playfully. “Oh, so that’s what we’re calling it these days?”
I tore the pillow from her grip and tossed it back at her. “You’re terrible.”
A giggle escaped her before she sobered enough to ask, “So, you guys are okay now?”
I thought of everything. Of our talk after the encounter with Georgette. How he’d bared his soul to me. Told me he loved me. Just the thought of it all made tears sting in my eyes. “I think I’m in love with him,” I whispered.
I know it was crazy and sudden, but it was true. I did. I knew it deep in my bones. In my heart of hearts. He’d said that I was it for him, and I couldn’t help but feel the same. I had no doubt about it. He’d been made for me. Was he perfect? No, but he was mine, and I loved every broken, raw, shattered piece of him, and I’d spend the rest of forever piecing him back together if I needed to.
“Fuck, he’s got the body of a damn god. I’d be in love with him too.”
I sat up, swatting teasingly at her. “Oh my God, Whit! You’re horrible!” My smile faded. “I’m serious though, I love him.”
Whit reached over and grabbed my hand before giving it a gentle squeeze. “Girl, I think the only one who didn’t know that was you.”
Really? Was it that obvious?
“He wants me to meet his family,” I said, meeting her stare.
Excitement rippled across her pretty features. She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Really? When?”
Guilt welled in the pit of my stomach. This was two weekends in a row that we’d planned to be together and ended up separated. “Today. But I told him I needed to talk to you first and see what you were doing. I’m not just leaving you here when you came out here to visit me.”
Another reassuring squeeze of my hand. “Quinnie, you aren’t skipping out on meeting his family for me.” She sat back, waving a flippant hand through the air. “I’ll probably see if the ranch hands want to go out to The Hitching Post or something.”
“Did you talk to Travis?” I asked, sitting up on the bed. God, I was a terrible friend. Not even asking her until just now about her problems.
She pulled a note out of her pocket and handed it to me. “Apparently, he left for Montana early this morning. Says it’s too hot here, and his parents need help with their ranch.”
I laughed. “So, he just up and left? Did he tell any of guys? Wyatt or Dylan, or Brooks?”
"Brooks said he left around three this morning."
"That's crazy. I can't believe he didn't even say goodbye to Hux."
“Right?” She gave me a sad, wistful look, before sighing. “No more talk about him. What am I going to do without my roomie?”
My heart tugged tightly at that. I didn’t want to think right now about Whit living basically halfway across the country. “You could always move here?” I offered hopefully.
The grin on her lips had me guessing she was already working up a plan.
“Come on,” she said, bouncing off the bed and standing. “If you’re going to meet his parents you better look your damnedbest. Thankfully, you have your super amazing and talented hairstylist bestie here to glam you up.”
I grinned. “Want me to make mimosas?”
She was already halfway out of the room when she turned back to peg me with a tense stare. “Quinnie, is that even a question?”
The drive to Hux’sfamily ranch was absolutely gorgeous. Just a two-lane highway winding through some of Texas’ gorgeous hill country. Trees and golden fields stretched from horizon to horizon, the sky a brilliant cornflower blue interrupted by big, random, fluffy clouds that reminded me of cotton balls. It was honestly so beautiful it looked fake.
Okay, I could see why Dad bought a place here. The weather might be shit, but the land was absolutely gorgeous.
Hux held my hand from his spot in the passenger’s seat, gaze turned outward toward the window like he was imagining or remembering what it looked like.
“So, what are your parents like?” I asked over the music coming softly from the rental’s speakers. “Anything I need to know?”
A grin tugged on his mouth and he aimed his stare my way. God, he looked good in sunglasses. In anything really. “Mamawill talk your ear off, and can be fussy, but she means well. Dad’s real quiet, though. He probably won’t talk much. Not because he won’t like you, just because he don’t like to talk to anyone but his horses, really.”
