Wannabe in Wyoming (Antelope Rock Book 1)

by J. B. Havens

  “Willow?” He left the question hanging in the air, waiting for her to look at him.

  Instead of answering him, she said, “Come on, let’s make a run for it.” Before he could stop her, she threw her door open and, as the rain pelted her, ran across the yard and up onto the covered porch.

  Grabbing his bags, he quickly followed her, getting drenched in the process. She wouldn’t meet his gaze when he stopped beside her, and his gut sank. Was she regretting this? Thinking back to the kiss at the airport, he had a lightbulb moment. Was she worried he’d want to jump her the minute they got inside? Maybe he’d given her that impression, but that hadn’t been his intention. Yes, he wanted her, but he needed time to get to know her better first. She was special to him, and he didn’t want to screw things up.

  He followed her into the house and didn’t take a moment to look around or do anything more than set his bags on the floor near the door. “Willow, hang on a second.” Reaching out, he clasped her hand in his own, drew her close, and stared down at her. She tensed, and he knew then that his instincts were spot on.

  “Yeah?” She swallowed nervously before looking down at her shoes.

  “Let me clear something up here a second.” Cupping her chin, he lifted it until her eyes met his. “I want you. Desperately.”

  Willow started to speak, but he placed two fingers over her lips. “Let me finish first, please?”

  When she nodded her assent, he continued, “That being said, this is the first time we’ve met in person. I’m happy to sleep on the couch or wherever. As much as I’m looking forward to being intimate with you, I don’t think either of us is ready for that yet. Okay? So, please, don’t be nervous. I’m not pressuring you or expecting you to give me something you’re not ready for.” He carefully cradled her cheek with his free hand. “This thing between us feels too important for us to rush into bed.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Willow heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.” Leaning forward, she let her head fall against Nathan’s chest, ignoring the fact that his clothes were soaked more than her own. His arms came around her, and she embraced him in return. “Sorry, that probably sounded bad, but I was trying to figure out how to tell you that I fixed up the guest room for you.” Snuggling into his warmth, she sighed again, this time in contentment. “You’re amazing, do you know that? Most guys would be doing whatever they could to get into my pants.”

  When he tipped her face up again, Nathan’s deep blue eyes shone down at her. “I’m not most men. That being said, can I kiss you again before you show me to the guest room? I’d like to wash off the airplane smell.”

  Smiling, she nodded. “Just sayin’, if there is an airplane smell, I don’t notice it. You smell positively edible.”

  “Flirting with me now, Wannabe?” He spoke softly, angling his head closer to her and nibbling on her jaw gently.

  “Sure, flirting is fun.” She gasped then moaned as he nipped her ear.

  “Flirting with you is fun, that’s true.” He kissed her cheek and sought her mouth with his own. The kiss this time was different from the one at the airport. Gentle, less desperate, but still hot as hell. He licked one last quick swipe into her mouth before releasing her and retreating a step. “Bathroom?” He plucked his wet gray t-shirt away from his torso where it was stuck to his skin. She did her best not to stare at the defined chest the saturated fabric reveled.

  “This way.” Leading him through the living room and down the hallway to the guest room, she took the opportunity to get herself back under control. Opening the door, she stepped into the small bedroom. She’d bought a full-sized bed—the room wasn’t big enough for a queen—and had added a chest of drawers and bedside table. A basic lamp was the only other furnishing. “It’s not much, but the bed and linens are brand new. The bathroom you can use is across the hall—I have another bath off my room. Towels are in the closet in there. Um . . .” She paused, twisting her fingers together as she looked over the room she’d prepared for him. She’d decorated it with simple grey bedding that matched the darker grey curtains. She hadn’t had time to find any artwork for the blank walls, which she was now kicking herself for. It was too plain. Whatever, she thought, there’s nothing you can do about it now. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. Are you hungry? It’s a little early for dinner, but I can go get it started after I change out of these wet clothes. I was thinking spaghetti, if that’s all right with you.”

  He ran a hand down her arm, caressing the skin under her ink. “Sweetheart, I haven’t eaten a home-cooked meal, that I didn’t prepare myself or have at a barbecue, in years. You could make literally anything, and I’d be happy with it. A shower won’t take me long, then I’ll come help you cook. Okay?”

  Nodding, she backed out of the room. Determined to chill the fuck out, she tried to stop acting like a total basket case. “Sounds good.”

  Leaving him to his shower, she retreated to her bedroom to change into dry clothes. A few minutes later, dressed in a clean pair of jeans, a vintage Go-Go’s t-shirt, and the comfy, brown, slip-on moccasins she’d bought at Ducky’s a few weeks ago, she shuffled into the kitchen. After filling the little cat dish by the backdoor with Ethel’s kibble, she began pulling out the ingredients for the dinner she’d planned to make for Nathan. Locally sourced ground beef, homemade spaghetti sauce that was sold by a woman from Antelope Rock who grew her own tomatoes, pasta, and a few other items were placed on the island’s countertop. She added a loaf of Italian bread she’d picked up at the bakery that morning, which had still been warm when she’d brought it home. The meal would be a simple one, but it would feature fresh, local ingredients and hopefully be the best pasta Nathan had ever eaten. She’d even splurged on fresh Parmesan to shave over the pasta. They said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, and she was going to do her best to test that theory.

  She’d just finished chopping an onion when Nathan ambled into the kitchen, carrying a bundle of gray fur cradled in his arms. “Look who found me.”

  Willow grinned at her pet who’d evidently already taken a shine to their visitor. “I was wondering where you were, Ethel. I’m surprised you didn’t come running when I filled up your dish.”

  Nathan stopped beside her at the island where she was prepping the meal, and she was hit with the fresh clean scent of him. His short hair was still damp, and he’d changed into a blue Henley over black sweatpants. Clean, white socks were the only things on his feet. He hadn’t shaved his stubble off, which she loved. Her mouth began to water for more than just dinner. Banishing the thought of what the skin on his neck tasted like fresh from the shower, she pushed a knife, a garlic press, and a bulb of garlic at him.

  “Here, make yourself useful. Smash that up while I get the meat browning.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, chuckling. He set Ethel on the floor, and as the kitten made a beeline for her food dish, Nathan washed his hands in the sink before getting to work. “It’s good I’m used to taking orders, huh? How much garlic?”

  “Shit, I’m sorry.” Shaking her head, she added the ground beef to a pot on the stove. “I don’t mean to be bossy. Two cloves should be good, please. Thank you.”

  “I don’t mind. I know this is a little . . . awkward . . . for us both. We’ll find our way. You just do you and everything will work out.” He bumped her hip with his, the casual affection warming her heart. “Besides, I can appreciate a bossy woman.”

  “I have an idea.” As she spoke, she added the chopped onion to the pot before breaking up the browning meat with a wooden spoon. “Let’s play a game to get to know each other a little better. I know we talked about a lot of things in the letters and on the phone and Skype, but I feel like there’s still a lot I don’t know about you.”

  “All right, what do you have in mind?” Reaching around her, he added the garlic to the pot.

  “A question for a question.” After tapping the spoon on the side of the pot, she set it on a small dish next to the
stove, and then turned around, crossing her arms over her chest and meeting his gaze. “I ask, you answer, and then you ask me something. If you don’t want to answer, you forfeit your question.”

  “Okay. Who goes first?”

  “Me, obviously. House rules, and ladies always come first.”

  He smirked and winked at her. “I’ll do my best to ensure that.”

  Fighting a blush, she poked his bicep. “Smart ass. All right, favorite color?”

  “Orange. You?”

  “Orange? Really? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who answered orange for their favorite color. Mine is purple. Favorite song?”

  “‘Back in Black.’”

  Rolling her eyes at him, she checked the meat mixture and saw it was cooked enough to drain. “That’s such a typical guy answer.”

  “Maybe, maybe not, what’s yours?”

  “Are you going to keep asking me the same question I ask you?”

  “It’s not your turn to ask a question, Wannabe. I let it slide earlier, but this time you forfeited your turn.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she teasingly smacked his arm. She wasn’t normally so touchy-feely, but the man was a dream and she couldn’t help it. “That’s not fair!”

  “Them be the rules. So, you owe me two answers. Favorite song and favorite flower.”

  “Fine, jerk,” she huffed with a smile. “I’m not a huge fan of flowers, but I like succulents, and my favorite song is a toss-up between ‘Break Stuff’ by Limp Bizkit and ‘Hurt’ by Johnny Cash.”

  “Those are two very different songs. They’re not even in the same genre.” He let out a snort. “And what the fuck is a succulent?”

  “Ah, ah. Not your turn to ask. I get two questions now.” She shook her finger at him before opening the jar of sauce and adding it to the meat she’d drained. “Okay, let’s see. Um, how do you take your coffee, and what’s your favorite comfort food?” Putting a second pot into the sink, she began to fill it with water for the pasta.

  “Black with a little sugar, and macaroni and cheese, nothing too exciting there.”

  “Nothing wrong with a classic. Unless it’s AC/DC—there is such a thing as too classic.”

  “Blasphemy!” Shooing her aside, he lifted the heavy pot out of the sink and onto the stove for her before turning on the burner. “You’re supposed to be letting me help, remember?”

  “Yeah, but I’m perfectly capable of lifting a pot of water.” She added salt to the water and then put the lid on, so it would boil faster.

  “Of course you are. Just like you’re perfectly capable of uprooting your life, moving cross-country, and starting over on a ranch. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to do things for you. My folks raised me to be a gentleman after all.”

  “Hopefully, not too much of a gentleman.” The words were out of her mouth before she could censor herself. It was official, Nathan had broken what little filter she had. She slapped her hands over her mouth—something she seemed to be doing a lot with him.

  He flashed what was quickly becoming his signature leering grin but said nothing as he stared down at her. Once again, his blue eyes seemed to bore into hers. Men like him weren’t real, were they? When something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. Right? She liked him, a lot, and just hoped he was everything he seemed to be and wasn’t just another illusion she’d regret down the road.

  They finished making dinner together and sat down to enjoy the results of their labor. She admitted it was nice—more than nice actually—cooking with him and teasing and joking back and forth. They both relaxed more as the evening wore on, and Willow was struck by how natural it felt having him in her home. After cleaning up the dishes together and putting the leftovers away for lunch tomorrow, she took his hand and led him out to the side porch, grabbing the throw off the couch on the way. It was time to show Nathan one of her favorite things about living in Wyoming.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nathan clung to Willow’s hand as she led him outside, a soft, dark-blue blanket over her other arm. “Where are we going?”

  “The porch swing. It’s getting cooler at night, that’s why I grabbed the blanket.”

  “You want to snuggle on the porch swing?” He grinned in delight. He’d hoped this would be one of the things they’d do together this week, after she’d told him it was her favorite spot to sit and unwind. Giddy didn’t cover how he was feeling about being with her right now.

  “Of course.” Glancing at him over her shoulder, she smiled sweetly, and his heart skipped a beat. This woman was something special, and he was the luckiest bastard on the planet, getting the chance to be here with her.

  As she sat on the swing, his attention was drawn away from her to the multitude of colors painting the sky. Oranges, yellows, reds, deep blues, and white from a few clouds created one of the most spectacular sunsets he’d ever seen in his life. Stunned, he just stared a moment and the only word to pass his lips was, “Wow”. It was obvious why they called this Big Sky country.

  Willow tugged on his hand, urging him to sit next to her. “Didn’t I tell you the sunsets here were to die for? I’d never seen one like this before moving here. It’s one of the reasons I don’t think I’ll ever leave. Somehow this city girl became a wannabe rancher. Even if actual ranching turns out to not be for me, I don’t think I could give up Skyview for anything now. I’d find something else to do with the land.”

  Settling in beside her, he put his arm around her shoulders as she spread the blanket over their laps. “I don’t blame you. It’s gorgeous.”

  They sat there in a comfortable silence for a little while, watching the ever-changing colors swirl around the sky as the sun seeped lower into the horizon, leaving dusk in its wake. The frogs and crickets serenaded them as the glow from hundreds of fireflies randomly illuminated their little corner of the universe. A gentle breeze caressed Nathan’s skin, almost like a lover’s touch. The balmy scents of clean air, hay, and wildflowers surrounded them.

  It’d been a long time, if ever, since Nathan had felt such an incredible peace wrap around him. He could easily spend every evening of the rest of his life cuddling with Willow on the porch swing and never tire of it. His mind kept drifting back to the kiss they shared in the truck, to the intense need that’d flared between them. He’d had lovers in the past, but he’d never experienced that level of desire before. He knew they needed to take things slowly, but the acute yearning in his body was battling with the logic of his thoughts. Willow was the whole package. She engaged his mind with her sharp wit even while she made him desperate to bury himself inside her. He was falling for her hard while praying they wouldn’t crash and burn.

  Willow could stay there all night, cuddled up to Nathan. Heck, she could stay there forever. The intense connection she felt to him should’ve frightened her, but it didn’t. In fact, she was starting to understand why some couples said they’d found their soul mates. The righteousness she felt in Nathan’s arms was something she couldn’t explain if she tried. Something she hadn’t even known she was missing was clicking into place.

  Having followed them outside and gotten bored hunting grasshoppers and other insects, Ethel pounced on Nathan’s foot, prompting him to pick her up and settle her on his lap. “So, where’s the other half of this comedy team?”

  “Fred comes to the back porch in the morning, usually around eight or nine o’clock.” She snuggled closer to him. “Mmm. I could get used to this.” Between the soft cotton of his shirt under her cheek and the comfort and warmth his body gave off, she could easily doze off right there in his arms.

  “Me too.”

  “Is this weird for you?”

  His chin dipped as he looked down at her. “Is what weird?”

  “Being here with me? I wasn’t expecting that first letter to develop into friendship, let alone more. Hell, I’m not even sure I expected a response from whoever got my letter.”

  He made a soft humming noise in his throat. “Honestly,
it’s not weird at all. Maybe it was a little at first, but . . .” his words trailed off, and she waited patiently for him to continue. “You know I don’t have any family left. I have army buddies—ones who aren’t in my unit that I don’t see all the time—that I keep in touch with, but it’s not like they write to me. Usually, it’s just the occasional phone call, or email, or something. Deployment is lonely, even for people who have folks back home. I know I told you in one of my letters, but it bears repeating—you got me through being over there. If I didn’t have your letters to look forward to and carry around with me, I don’t think I’d be adjusting to being home as well as I am. It’s hard to explain it to someone who’s never served—especially in combat—but knowing you were back home, thinking about me? It was everything, Willow.”

  She stared up into his eyes that, even in the dark, were a brilliant blue that rivaled a cloudless afternoon sky. “I’m so glad I wrote that letter. This goes both ways, you know? I didn’t have anyone either. My mom’s dead. The father I never knew is also gone, and I’m an only child with no extended family. But I don’t want you to think I’m here with you because there’s no one else.”

  Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, he gently kissed her forehead. She couldn’t help but close her eyes and barely managed to keep her sigh of pleasure to herself. “I know that, Wannabe.” He paused, then said, “Tell me about your mother.”

  “Well . . .” She smiled as she fondly recalled her mom. “She was so beautiful, even later after she got sick with diabetes. Growing up, I don’t remember us having much money, and she worked a lot, but she was always there for me. Always pushing me to be the best I could be. She’d tell me that a person’s worth couldn’t be measured by their bank account but by the way they treated others. She came to every school event, even if it meant she had to work an extra shift later. I remember her being tired all the time, but she never took it out on me. We were a team, just her and me against the whole world. The only time we ever really argued was when I pressured her to tell me about my father. My friends in the neighborhood didn’t all have a father figure at home, but they knew who their dads were at least. I would ask, and she’d look so sad and tell me that some things were best left unknown.”