Page 31 of Let Her Buck

He laughs, his palm smoothing over my shin. “You say that every time we sneak up here.”

“That’s ’cause it’s always true.”

He shifts a little, catching my hand and threading our fingers together. “I still can’t believe this is ours.”

Our house.

Our land.

Our life.

All of it.

Two years ago, I couldn’t have dreamed this…this peace, this joy.

For a few seasons, we split our time between traveling and building something steady, something rooted. We visited rodeos and festivals and fairgrounds, and I sang in bars along the way.

Now we’ve traded in motels and trailers for horses in the back pasture and a porch swing that creaks like a lullaby. West even surprised me and bought back my papa’s stable, so every day I get the thrill of knowing we’re carrying on something my papa started. Knowing he’d be proud of me.

“Do you think we’re ready?” I ask, resting my head on West’s shoulder.

“For what?” he asks, brushing his lips against my temple.

I pull back just enough to look at him. “To add another heartbeat to this place.”

He stills, his eyes scanning mine. “You mean…?”

I nod, my heart clenching with anticipation and hope—hope that he wants the same thing as me.

Not like we’ve ever been on different pages. West would do anything for me—all I have to do is ask. But on this subject, I want him to desire it as much as I do, not just because it’s something I want.

For the past few days, I’ve pondered on how to tell him what’s on my mind, and now seems like the right time…

“I think I’m ready,” I say slowly, watching his expression closely. I smile a little, loving the way his brows knit up in concentration.

“For?”

“For a change, I guess,” I reply with a small shrug, taking a little time to arrange my thoughts. “I’m ready to slow down. Plant roots…” I pause, then let it out in a breath. “I want a baby.”

“Really?” West asks, sitting up slowly, his eyes never leaving my face.

“I’m serious,” I say with a nod. “I don’t feel that ache to keep moving anymore. My wanderlust…it’s satisfied. Because when I look at you, I remember everywhere we’ve been together. Every ride. Every stop. Every crazy thing we did. I want our next adventure to happen right here at home—I want a baby with you.”

He remains quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable, and suddenly his face breaks into a melting smile. “Laney Holt,” he breathes, cupping my face, “you just made me the happiest man in the world. Again.”

He pulls me into his lap like I weigh nothing, and suddenly I’m straddling him, my dress riding up my thighs, the breeze slipping cool against my skin.

“Do you remember your first time in the air?” he asks, voice low and husky, his mouth grazing the sensitive pulse on my neck.

I smile, already flushed. “You mean on the Ferris wheel?”

He shakes his head, chuckling slightly. “No, darlin’. I mean the first time you really flew.” His hands slide up under my dress, warm and familiar. I lean into him, gasping when his fingers trace the inside of my thighs. “First time you rode me like you were born for it.”

“Oh, that,” I whisper, smiling against his mouth. “Of course I remember. How could I ever forget?”

“Wanna go down memory lane?”

I nod. A little too eagerly. “Yes, please.”

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