Kiss My Boots

by Harper Sloan

  Mind stuck on that good-night kiss, I stare at him with breathy pants escaping my lips.

  "I'm thinkin' I might not have to do much persuadin' for that kiss, huh, Grease?" he smarts off, winking down at me.

  "I reckon not, Tate. I reckon not."

  He helps me close everything down. I'm fully capable of doing it myself, but it's nice to have him here doing such trivial tasks--his presence alone something I'm enjoying immensely. No, that's not right. It's as if my body had been without feeling his presence for so long that it's feeding off being near him. I feel like I can take on the world, a burst of renewed strength and happiness making me feel almost superhuman.

  The other half of me is snapping into place, regardless of the fact that we still have to get to know each other again. It doesn't matter that there is still so much unknown between us because of the years that have passed. All that matters is what I'm feeling.

  Accepted. Wanted. Whole.

  All because of him. Can I do this again? When he first came into my life, I was at that age where every little girl just wants and needs her mama, but I didn't have that. His friendship, that bond we have always shared, eased the pain her absence had created inside me, filling me up and making that void almost unnoticeable. And that had been when all I had was his friendship during the summer for years. When we finally gave into what our hearts were screaming for, that void was filled--vanishing completely.

  Then he left.

  He left, and with him he took all the promises he'd ever whispered. He stole that piece inside me he had filled, and I hadn't found a way to fix it since.

  Now he's back and promising me the chance at all those things again. All the things that it killed me to lose the last time. If losing him back then hurt me as fiercely as it did when I only wondered if he had been the one, how could I recover now as an adult that knows without a shadow of doubt that he is the only one?

  "Tate," I gurgle, his name coming out in a breathy burst of panic as I let those feelings settle in and take root.

  He stops, his hand on the switch that controls the lights for the whole garage floor, and looks over his shoulder at me, his expression no longer relaxed and carefree, but now tinged with unease.

  "I lied. Earlier when I said that you scared me, I lied. I'm not just scared. I'm petrified, Tate. There's so much goin' on inside me right now that I'm strugglin' to make sense of it. Strugglin' to trust that I can make sense of it. And not all that is just because you're askin' me to take a big ol' blind leap of faith where your promises are concerned."

  The strong lines of his face get soft. A melty look of pure male hotness steals over his face, making him look even more handsome, if that's possible. In all of that though, there's a certain cockiness present that makes me think he might have enough belief in this for the both of us. He levels me with an understanding gaze, accepting what he's up against instantly.

  "How 'bout you let me handle all that worries you, darlin', and give your mind some time to accept what it's scared to see is real."

  Just like that. Like it's the simplest of things.

  "You'll get there and I'll be here every step of the way to prove you can believe, but until you do, I'll just keep waitin' for you to catch up to me."

  My breath speeds up and I almost feel like I could cry. This isn't like last time. Last time we had whispered dreams and promises that we would do whatever we could to make them happen. He eased the fears my mama's abandonment placed in my heart by promising he would always be there, even if only as a friend, but that he wouldn't just leave me--and he had. But this, this is him giving me so much more with just that one sentence. He isn't leaving. He isn't telling me what I want to hear, and we aren't two kids that didn't know enough about life to build those dreams. He's vowing to help me see what we as adults know is possible. To take those steps toward what was finally our time to have.

  Each other.

  "Together?" I hedge.

  "Always."

  I nod, not trusting my words, and he gives me his back to finally flip the lights off. We move like two people who've been doing this night after night their whole lives through the shop until he's standing behind me waiting for me to lock the doors, the silence between us comfortable, even with the lingering reminder of our need for each other whipping up the air around us.

  I don't get that good-night kiss he had joked about earlier. I think we both knew it wasn't the time, and in all honesty, I'm glad. It isn't that I don't want to feel that again. Oh, I do, so much. But I feel so raw inside that I think some of the beauty of our reunion would always hold a sense of heaviness to it if we'd given in to our passions tonight.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow I have a date with my past as we start building our future.

  And I can't freaking wait.

  13

  TATE

  "The Driver" by Charles Kelley

  - -

  The second her taillights vanished from my view, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Mark.

  "Remind me tomorrow to thank you for this call," Mark whispers before clearing his throat and talking away from the receiver. "Darlin', I'm gonna step out and talk to Tate. You gotta stop givin' me that look, though."

  "If I called at a bad time, you can let me go." I laugh, not wanting to hear him and Jane fight.

  "Shut your mouth," he hisses quietly.

  He continues talking softly with his wife, mumbling things I wish I never heard. Knowing he's going to be a second, I make my way to my truck and climb in to crank her up, pulling out of Davis Auto Works and down Main toward home.

  "Shit, man," Mark groans out a breath. "You got good timin', my friend. I swear to God, my balls are gonna fall off. Is that a thing? Can my balls fall off because my wife can't stop usin' my body?"

  "Your balls aren't gonna fall off, Mark," I answer with a smile.

  "Well, they fuckin' might. You don't know what they've been through today alone, not to mention the last three days. Janie says it's her special time, whatever the fuck that means. All I know is my wife is startin' to make me feel like all she wants is my come, and when it doesn't work, she gets this look in her eye like she thinks she's failin'."

  "How long did you say y'all been tryin'?" My doctor brain snaps into place hearing him talk about their struggle to conceive. As a doctor, I know these things take time, and it's common for many couples to try for over a year before ever conceiving. The friend in me, however, wants to do whatever I can to help them out.

  "Shit, I don't know, Tate. Lost track after a year of workin' hard at it. Workin' hard turned into workin' in overdrive. She's consumed with it, and I just want to give my girl what she wants, ya know?"

  "I hear ya. Tell her to call the office tomorrow and make an appointment."

  "Will do," Mark says with a sigh. "She was seein' some fancy doctor an hour away, but our insurance wouldn't cover the treatments he suggested, so she stopped a few months ago."

  "I'll need her to get a copy of her records from him, but we can get those after she comes in. You just worry about your balls not fallin' off."

  "Thanks, man," he says, already sounding better than he did moments before. "Say, why'd ya call?"

  My lips twitch. "Need someone's number from you and didn't want to spend too much time huntin' it down."

  We make small talk for the rest of my drive, and as I'm putting the truck in park, Mark promises again to see me next week with his wife. I stare out the windshield after ending our call. My mind is in overdrive, but my heart feels a million pounds lighter knowing that things are as good as they're going to get at this point with where Quinn stands. Hell, they're better than I thought they would be this soon, but I know I need to do my part in making the start of our relationship as easy as possible for Quinn.

  Then my text chimes with a message from Mark with the number I had requested. I don't waste a second, wanting to get this done quickly so I can plan my last first date.

  "Yeah," a deep, breathless voice answers, but I
hear the phone drop and some grunts before nothing but pure chaos comes through the line. Shouts to grab the lead and a whole lot of bangin' around later the phone is picked back up. "Sorry 'bout that."

  "If it's a bad time, I can call back." I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes, hating the nervousness I feel rushing through me.

  "Good a time as any," Clay Davis replies.

  "It's Tate," I tell him in lieu of answering. "Tatum Montgomery."

  Silence hits my ears. I know he's there because not only is the call still connected, but I can hear his heavy breathing through the line.

  "I wondered when you would be makin' this call," he says, his voice calm and steady, even though I know better.

  I grunt out a humorless laugh, opening my mouth to reply, but stop when he continues to speak.

  "You have anything to do with my sister gettin' home just now lookin' better than she has in fuckin' weeks?"

  "At the risk of soundin' like a cocky bastard, I sure hope so."

  "Hmm." He hums.

  "I know it's gettin' to be suppertime and all, but if you could spare some time, I feel like we have a conversation that needs to happen before I continue makin' sure your sister keeps lookin' like she did when she got home."

  He hums again.

  "I wouldn't even bother, Clay, but I know Quinn always did go outta her way to make sure her brothers supported her decisions. If I have any hope of winnin' her back, havin' your blessin' to do so is going to mean a whole helluva lot to her. I plan to have the same talk separately with Maverick as well, but Quinn used to look to you for advice and affirmation that she's doin' right, and I've got a feelin' that hasn't changed, which means you're first on my list."

  "Sure you just don't want to deal with us both at the same time?"

  I scuff out a low laugh. "Hell no, I don't. In all seriousness though, I know she's gonna want her brothers to stand behind her decisions, so this needs to happen."

  "She's a twenty-seven-year-old woman. She doesn't need her brothers' permission to do shit."

  "Just because she doesn't need it doesn't mean it's not somethin' she wants. And I think you and I both know it's a lot more than just permission she wants."

  "Fuck," he says harshly under his breath. "I'll come to you." Then he disconnects the call and I'm left to the deafening silence around me, a twisting feeling in my gut.

  "This shouldn't be an awkward conversation at all," I grumble to myself, getting out of the truck and going into the house to get ready for Clay.

  I'm not going to find anything there to help ease my racing mind, though. It's just a shell of the house that was my grandparents' home. Aside from the layout and a few little things here and there that hadn't been lost forever after my parents almost took this place away from me for good, it's unrecognizable. The comforting scent of my paw's old pipe isn't lingering in the air. Gran isn't busy in the kitchen cooking up a storm. The old chairs that were in front of their ancient television are long gone, tossed away.

  It's up to me now to create my own memories in their huge farmhouse.

  I've just poured myself a cup of coffee when I hear an engine roar, announcing Clay's arrival. Not knowing if he's going to want something as caffeinated as coffee this time of evening, I walk through the living room and out to the porch, putting my mug down on the rail. He climbs down from his truck, adjusts the dark cowboy hat on his head, and then lumbers through the grass until he's standing at the bottom of the six stairs, waiting for my cue before he takes another step.

  "You want a cup?" I ask, tilting my head toward the mug.

  "Wouldn't mind one, but that shit will keep me up all night and I got too much shit to do in the mornin' to be losin' sleep."

  "You wanna stand there or come up and have a seat?"

  He looks toward me, then over to the rocking chairs before answering, "Lead the way."

  Grabbing my mug, I turn and walk over to one of the chairs. I pull it away from its partner and turn it slightly so I can speak to his face and not take a coward's way out by avoiding his eyes just because he's as intimidating as it gets.

  "Not to rush you, Doc, but it's been a long day and I haven't decided if I want to kick your ass or not."

  "I've only been in town a week and you already want to kick my ass?"

  "I've wanted to kick your ass for damn near nine years," he answers, taking his hat off to rest it in his hand before giving me his undivided attention, stoic face, and hard eyes.

  "Quinn knows what happened back then, Clay. She knows and she understands. As much as I would love to say it isn't any of your business, I know it is. Doesn't make it any easier to admit to a man I've always respected that I was a coward before I ask him to support the relationship I hope to build with his baby sister."

  With the sun low in the sky, I can see his face clearly, but still he gives nothing away. This could go two ways: he could share his sister's understanding, or he could follow through on his desire to make me pay for hurting her. While I don't doubt that he's justified in wanting that, Clay is the last man I want to go head-to-head with. He's built similar to me, but his work on the ranch puts his strength at a considerable advantage to mine, no matter how many hours I spend in the gym.

  He maintains his silence as I lay out everything I told Quinn earlier this week. It's a huge blow to my male pride that I let someone keep me from the woman I loved because I wasn't man enough to protect her from the harm they could have so easily inflicted. It isn't an easy pill to swallow, even if I know deep down I did the right thing.

  "You're kidding," he finally says when I finish my story.

  "Wish to God I was. If it had been anything else, I wouldn't have kept my distance, you have to know that, Clay."

  "Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, looking away and out in the distance in front of the house. "Your paw know about this?"

  I nod. "I only told him enough so that he'd accept why I stayed away, but not all of it. He thought I was too busy with school and then my residency for the most part, but I told him Quinn and I just hadn't worked out, so he didn't press for more."

  "Explains why you didn't come back sooner, I reckon. I paid off that loan my old man took out a year or so before he died. When I took over, that was the first thing I set to rights."

  I nod, feeling the sadness of the lost years creeping back in. "Right after my inheritance was turned over to me. I know. An employee at my father's bank helped to keep an eye on those loans for me. I tried to get Paw to let me settle his shit with my father when I found out, but he wouldn't budge. His pride wouldn't let him, and in all honesty, I was ashamed that I'd let my father win, so I kept my silence about why I was tryin' so hard to get him to agree and gave up a lot of my hopes in that moment."

  Clay lets out a low whistle, running a hand through his dark hair. "That's one hell of a shit story, Tate. I figured I'd come over here and there wouldn't be shit you could say to make me understand you hurtin' my sister, but I gotta say, in your shoes, I'm not sure I wouldn't have done the same thing."

  "I want her back. I want to give us back what was stolen from us and I know she wants that too, Clay. She's just scared, and rightfully so."

  He stops studying the yard and finally looks at me. "And what do you want from me?"

  I shake my head. "I wanted you to hear what happened from me. I don't care if you tell Quinn about this chat. I won't hide from her that you were here. If she wants to talk about what happened, then she has another person that can help her work through that. I need her to see me workin' hard to rebuild the bridge that was burned when I left the last time. I wanted to tell you, man-to-man, that my intentions are honest when it comes to Quinn. I don't know what the future holds for us, much as I wish I did, but your sister wants us to take some time to get to know each other again, and until I know she trusts in us again, it's all up in the air until I can prove otherwise. I'm already done for. Honest to God, even if she was half the woman I loved back then, she'd still be perfect. If she
gives me her trust and heart again and you want to stand in the way of us findin' the future we lost, then so be it, but you need to know an army at your back won't keep me from fightin' for that woman. No one will ever do that again."

  "You sound pretty damn sure of yourself for someone that claims to be taking the time to get to know her again before you decide if she's worth it."

  "I said she wants that time to get to know each other again, not me. I agreed to it because I'll tread as lightly as I need to to keep her from runnin' spooked."

  "You need to give her more credit than that, Tate." He sighs, leaning back in the rocker. "No doubt that girl's a frightened little bunny right now, especially if you just laid all this on her, but make no mistake, that little hell-raiser is just waitin' to slap some sense into that bunny."

  I laugh softly, knowing his description of his sister is spot-on. She never did let that bunny win for long.

  "She's been hurt a lot, though, Tate and I have a feelin' you made the right move regardless of her normal take-charge attitude: that timid little bunny might not run away as quick as you'd like."

  "I'll make it up to her," I promise, not looking away from his probing gaze.

  "You know about our mama leavin', Tate, but I reckon she'll bring up what we learned about her last year soon enough since you already know most of it. Quinn's a smart girl and she'll not waste a second tellin' you, knowin' you can help her figure it out for herself. Maybe while you're makin' up your past to her you can find it in you to help heal that part of her pain, too." With that, he stands, places his hat back on his head, and walks down the stairs, turning before he steps off the last one completely. "It's good to see you here, Tate. I always did think you fit in like Pine Oak had always been your home. When you have this talk with Mav, give him more credit than whatever it was that had you thinkin' you need to split us up. He's softer than he looks. Take care of my sister, and don't make me regret hopin' like hell you win her back."

  He's in his truck and pulling back on the main road not even thirty seconds later, leaving me to wonder what the hell happened last year to make her mama's abandonment worse than it was before.