Page 150 of Ride the Sky

I love Wyatt Montgomery.

Fuck. Fuck.

I’m so fucked.

“Cooking for a stupid cowboy like a stupid housewife,” I grumble, checking my phone for Dakota’s text and attached recipe. “I don’t believe it.”

But I am. A domestic, ridiculous chore I swore I’d never do.

I blame the sex. The cowboy taking care of me better than I deserve. That night at Nowhere. So much of our souls bared, we came together in ways I didn’t think were possible.

I limp across the creaky wood floor and pull a bowl from the cabinet.

With Wyatt at an auction out of town, I’ve decided it’s time to say thank you.

And maybe something else. That is, if I can work my way up to it.

The night after the bar fight, when Wyatt told me the reason he was in Arizona was to bring me home…

He came to get me. He would do anything for me.

I got it then.

My heart belongs to him. It always has. That feeling I had when I left Resurrection, what I wrote in that letter, welled up inside of me.

He’s become my safety net since my accident. My source of hope. Of calm. He’s seen me at my worst, knows all my flaws, and has still stuck around. Even when I can’t see him, I feel him.He is always coming for me, protecting me. That’s Wyatt. That’s why I love him.

A wild ride I’ll stay on as long as I’m alive.

As much as I’d like to stay stubborn and chickenshit, I can’t deny it any longer.

I read through Dakota’s recipe then set my cane on the back of a chair and head to the pantry. I rummage through the shelves. As I’m pulling flour off the shelf, a wave of lightheadedness sweeps me up.

“Fuck,” I whisper. I wait, and the dizziness clears.

Back at the counter, I measure out flour, salt, baking soda. I whisk them together, swearing as I make a mess all over the kitchen counter.

Wyatt better adore these fucking cinnamon rolls.

My mouth threatens a smile. Stupidity and hope hammer in my chest.

Love feels like it’s choking me. Clawing its traitorous way into my throat and daring me to say the words.

Maybe he feels the same way I do. Maybe he loves me back.

Creak.

The floorboards. A chill ripples over my spine. I glance over my shoulder. I’m imagining it. Nerves from the past. From Aiden. From this old house.

My eyes move to the window, focusing on the pasture and the barn. Even now, I itch to ride.

One thing he might not love is what I’ve been doing in secret. Sneaking out of the house to ride when he’s training at the ranch. He’s trusted me to tell him the truth, to be honest, and I haven’t.

Maybe it’s for the best that I wait. How can we commit? Even though Resurrection finally feels like home, I don’t want to stay here. I can’t. The restless urge to roam is clawing inside of me.

The rodeo, the road, is calling me back.

What does that mean for me and Wyatt? Our marriage?

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