“I changed my mind about everything! You’re not goin’ anywhere without me.”
“What about your store?”
“The shop is closed for two weeks while its owner goes through some renovations.”
“Oh, I’ll renovate you alright,” he said, the edges of his smile lifting deviously.
When I was ten feet away, he lifted his hat and pulled his white undershirt over his head by the hem. I couldn’t figure out why he’d be stripping in front of literally everyone he knew, but then I noticed the new black and gray ink on the left side of his chest, above his heart.
As he fixed the hat back on his head, I stopped my feet and strands of my hair whipped forward into my open mouth.
Pointing to his new tattoo, I whispered, “Is that… me?”
“You like? Got it up in Oregon. I needed somethin’ to remind me of you while we were apart.”
“I look—” I stuttered, trying to catch my breath. “I-I’m sexy.”
“Fuck yeah, you are.”
The pinup portrait of my face and bare shoulders, turned and peeking out from Rye’s muscled chest, with thick, waving tresses of my hair curving and wrapping around the image, was so realistic that I had a hard time not looking at it. The only color in the entire design was the rosy, golden hue of my hair. The peonies surrounding the image—my favorites—were black and gray too.
I stepped forward slowly, reaching my hand toward the tattoo. “Can I touch it?”
When I met Rye’s gaze, I found a proud smile plastered across his lips. “You don’t have to ask to touch me, baby. You own me. You can do whatever you want with me.”
Taking the last few steps until I was a breath away from him, I touched my portrait forever inked onto Rye’s skin with tentative fingers, softly tracing a line of a peony’s leaf and thenthe ridge of my nose. The lines were still a little raised with irritation.
“You really should have this covered and protected from the sun. It’s still healin’, but… she’s beautiful.”
“She’syou,” he said, pulling off his gloves and tossing them down to the dirt, “so yeah, the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“But she doesn’t look like me now.”
“Fair maiden,” Rye whispered, wrapping me up in his strong arms. He lifted me, and I wound my legs around his hips, trying not to picture him naked, wearing only his leather chaps. “What have I told you about how you see yourself? The only reference the artist had was the picture I took of you after my birthday dinner. Remember?
“You were on my bed on your knees wrapped up in my sheets. I called your name, and you turned toward me and bit that sweet bottom lip.” He touched my lip with one finger. “Your hair was messed from the love we’d made, your face was flushed and bright and happy, and you seduced me again and made me watch you pleasure yourself with your eyes on my body.
“Baby,” he said, “sheisyou. Look. Says so right here,” and he tipped his head, looking at a banner beneath my image where, in swirling script, two words had been etched:
My Spitfire.
My cheeks heated, and I peeked around us to make sure no one had heard what he’d said, but he claimed me in front of everyone, took my mouth roughly with his, and he kissed me like no one else was watching.
As he crowned me with his sweaty hat, the crowd cheered us on. I swore I heard Billie somewhere, hooting like a rabid owl on steroids.
But I paid them no mind. I was lost in Rye.
“Iloveyou,” I promised him, and I kissed him back, moaning and grasping for handfuls of his hair, wrapping my body tightly around his, letting him know with everything I had inside me that he was it for me. I’d finally found my happy ever after…
And my happy ever after was Rye freaking Graves.
EPILOGUE
RYE
“Baby,hold on a sec. Me and Blue are havin’ a moment.”
“Yeah, sure,” Aubrey said in my ear. “I’ll just wait on the phone while you have a heart-to-heart with your horse.”