Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
My heart stutters in my chest. This moment, it’s what I always wanted. A partner. Someone who chooses me over and over again. And Macklin is showing me that he will, but will he always?
“Night, Mac.” I close my eyes. Right now is not the time to worry about all this. We need a few hours of sleep so that we can function today, and then I’ll let my mind wander. Right now, I’m too comfortable. I feel too safe in his arms to care about anything other than sleeping next to the man who is on a mission to steal my heart.
Fourteen
Macklin
* * *
I’m outside in the barn because the house is too quiet without her. Last week, I brought Baylor here from the hospital and held her while we caught a few hours of sleep. Now, the bed, the entire fucking house feels empty without her.
I’m just finishing my workout when I hear tires on the gravel driveway. Moving to the barn door, I peer out and have to blink a few times to make sure my mind’s not playing tricks on me, but it’s her. Baylor is here.
Pushing open the door, I walk outside, and the cool night air hits my heated, sweat-soaked skin. I probably should have put on a shirt, but I’m not willing to risk her knocking on the house door and thinking I’m not home. It’s just a little January chill. I’ll be fine.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I call out to her.
Her eyes widen, and they roam over my bare chest as she makes her way toward me. “You should have a coat on,” she scolds.
“Then come inside where it’s warm.” I nod toward the door, and she follows me back into the barn.
“Wow, this is not what I expected.”
“No?”
“This is not a barn, Macklin. This is a man cave.” She slowly scans the room.
I chuckle. “Maybe a little. I needed a place to work out and to store all my buckles, as well as a place to practice,” I say, pointing to the mechanical bull in the back corner of the shop, because she’s right—it’s not really a barn. But I’m a cowboy, so that’s what I call it.
“What you got there?” I ask, pointing to the container in her hands.
“Oh, right. The reason I’m here. I helped Courtlynn bake cookies. Well, I watched and stole dough while she was baking, but she made a ton, so I thought I’d bring you a sweet treat.”
She hands me the container, and I immediately pull off the lid and bring it to my nose. “These smell so good. Chocolate chip?”
“Chocolate chip walnut. Your favorite, right?”
I’m grinning like a fool because on one of our many chats, our favorite cookies came up, and she remembered mine. She’s cataloging details about me, and that’s a big fucking win in my book. Snatching a cookie out of the container, I take a huge bite and moan. “So good,” I say, speaking with my mouth full. My mother would be so disappointed in me right now.
“So, you were working out?” she asks, her eyes bouncing around the room.
“I was. The house was too quiet.”
“I can see you and the guys hanging out here.” She smiles, her eyes still taking it all in.
“We did a lot at first, but once the newness wore off, it kind of phased out.”
“Does that thing actually work?” She points to the mechanical bull.
“It does.” I nod. “Want to try it?”
She turns to look at me over her shoulder, and the “Yes” that flies out of her mouth isn’t necessary. Her grin would have been answer enough.
“Hop on,” I tell her.
“Wait. Don’t I need, like, lessons or rules or something?” She worries her bottom lip as I step up beside her.
I grin. “The rules are, hold on for eight seconds, but don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”
“What happens if I fall off?”
“You land on the dismount mat. I can blow up the inflatable arena if that would make you feel more secure.”
“Maybe I don’t want to do this. Falling is not really on my list of things to do today.”
“Baylor, I’ll go slow. I promise you. You’re not getting injured on my watch.”
“You go first,” she tells me.
“Babe, you do remember that I did this for a living, right?” I point a finger at my chest. “Retired bull rider.”
“I know.” She laughs. “But I’m nervous.”
“It’s not a real bull, Baylor,” I tease.
“Why do you have this? Nostalgia?”
I chuckle. “No, this is what I’d use to practice. This one can get just as rowdy as a real bull, so when I was home between events, or in the off-season, I’d use this a few days a week, and then I’d head over to my buddy Brad’s place to practice with the actual bulls.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. No way will you find me on the back of a real, live bull, Macklin. You could have been hurt. A serious kind of hurt.”