“Why are you laughing?” he asks through a grin.
“That was insane.” With my trembling legs no longer able to hold me up, I fall to the ground, laughing so hard that tears are now rolling down my face. I like to live a carefree life, and rarely hold back from anything, but doing jumps on an ATV is definitely a first for me.
“Insane good or insane bad?” Wes laughs as he helps me off the ground.
“Definitely good. I’ve never done anything like that before,” I answer as my laughter subsides.
The sun has now set, and I’m not paying attention to where we are as I dust myself off. “Where are we?”
Wes grabs a hold of my shoulders and gently turns me around.
My breath catches as I come face to face with the most beautiful sight I think I’ve ever seen. A large oak tree with branches spanning out sits before me covered in white lights, casting a soft glow against the dark, country night, and shadows against the deep, green leaves. Weathered planks of wood sit tucked into the tree, displaying a tree house any child would love to have. Two miniature windows cut out in the wooden planks, portions of leaves hanging in front of them. A light flickers, fading in and out, as I look up at what is a diminutive fort. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
The weight of Wes’ arms surrounds my shoulders as he holds me to him. “I thought you might like it,” he answers, brushing his lips against my ear.
Goose bumps encase my whole body as I try to stop the shiver that begins to rush up my spine. I turn my head, meeting his eyes. The joy he has for this place shines through his smile. “I do. I really like this.”
“You wanna go up?” When he steps away from me, I’m left with a chill as his remaining body heat barely lingers on my back.
I nod that I do, and Wes grabs my hand and leads me around to the back of the Oak tree. A makeshift ladder lines the bark of the tree, leading into a hole at the bottom of the tree house. “Go ahead,” he says, pulling me in front of him.
Barely taking the first two steps up the ladder, I look back over my shoulder and down at him. “I don’t think I can do this.” I wrap my fingers around the pieces of wood nailed into the tree and hold on for dear life.
“Because of your fear of heights?”
“Yes,” I answer quietly.
Walking closer to the tree, he places his hand on my lower back, supporting me. “I have you, Kenleigh.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head like a two year old who doesn’t want to take a nap, but God only knows if this thing is stable and sturdy enough.
“You said you trusted me, right?”
“Yeah, you, but not this thing.” I point to the rickety wood above me.
He chuckles for a moment and then turns those pleading gorgeous eyes on me. “Then trust me. I have you. I will not let anything happen to you.”
My gaze turns away from him to the opening about twenty feet above me, and then back to him. I take a deep breath and begin to climb. “Okay. But I swear to you, if I fall off this ladder and die, I’m gonna haunt you.”
Wes laughs at my response. But I’m serious. If I fall to my death, I will haunt him until the day he dies.
“I promise you won’t fall, but if you did, and you did haunt me, at least I’d be able to say that I have a hot ass ghost haunting me.”
“I’m sure you would,” I retort with my own chuckle as I pull myself up through the hole in the floor of the tree house. With shaky hands and wobbly legs, I apply pressure to the boards, praying to the good Lord above that it will hold my weight. As I slowly pull myself up, I peek inside the wooden fort. A blanket lies on the hard wooden floor. Lit candles are placed sporadically throughout, and the soft sound of Thompson Square’s Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not croons from a stereo on a ledge in the back of the tree house. Old tattered posters of Aerosmith, Garth Brooks, George Strait, and Brooks and Dunn hang on the walls.
I’m pulled back from one of the most romantic sights I’ve ever seen when Wes’s hands slip around my waist. “Do you like it?”
“You did all of this?” I ask, turning to look at him.
I’m answered with a nod and a shy smile. I shake my head as I turn in his grasp. “I can’t believe you. I love it.” I lift my hand and cup his cheek, feeling his clean-shaven skin, and pull his face down to mine. “Thank you,” I whisper before faintly brushing my lips against his.
The corners of his lips pull up in a slow smile when I pull back. “Wait, it gets better.” He moves around me to an ice chest that sits tucked into an alcove. As he scoots it across the floor, he opens it and pulls out two Saran Wrap covered plates.
With my curiosity peaked and my nerves settled, I move closer to Wes and reach my hand out so he can hand the plates to me. “What’s that?”
“Food,” he offers with a smile.
“Well, no shit. What kind of food?” I ask with my own chuckle.
He pulls back the plastic film and displays a perfectly cooked pork chop, green beans, a slice of cornbread, and a baked potato. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the smell of the delicious meal invades my senses. With a loud grumble, my stomach growls. Instantly, my cheeks turn ten shades of red. I swallow down my mortification, straighten my back and shrug shoulders as if my stomach grumbling isn’t a big deal.
“Hungry much?” Wes laughs.
“Just a little.” I take a seat. “Smart-ass.” With my feet tucked under me, I help him place the plates on the blanket. I watch as Wes continues pulling out the sour cream, cheese, salt and pepper, and two beers. A flutter takes off in my heart as I think of how no one has ever done this for me. A man I barely know is sitting here with me, doing all this for me. And I don’t even know how to say thank you because I am completely speechless.
I dig deep for courage, because what I’m about to do is not like me at all. With his back to me, I lift up off my knees, gently grab his shoulders and speak directly in his ear, letting my lips brush against the shell. “Thank you,” I whisper. Before I can pull back, he spins around and pulls me to him. Within seconds, his hands are in my hair as he crushes his lips to mine. It’s unyielding, demanding—powerful. My fingers glide up his strong arms, feeling the corded muscles that stretch up into his neck, before they thread into his hair. My legs move me closer to where I’m able to straddle his lean hips. I kiss him back with just as much want and passion. Our tongues match stroke for stroke. Our breaths become labored as our tongues do their own two-step. With carnal desire surging through my veins, I rock my hips against his jean clad, very hard, very generous package, and grind my sweet spot against him. I break away from his lips, trailing kisses along his strong jaw; all the while, his lips caress the sensitive skin of my neck. I grind against him harder when I feel his strong hands cup my very heavy, very achy breasts. “Oh… my… God… Wes,” I pant in his ear.
“I want you so bad,” he groans against the swell of my breasts.
My arms wrap around his neck, and I hold him to me as I twist against him harder.
“If you don’t want this to go any further, then we need to stop,” he says in between sensual kisses and sucking.
My mind tells me he’s right, but my body says fuck it. With everything in me, I slow my movements and try to catch my breath. I open my eyes and stare into his. Wild and all-consuming need beams from his eyes causing a fire to ignite in the depths of my stomach. “That’s not what I was expecting when I said thank you,” I mumble breathlessly as I brush my lips against his.
Wes squeezes my hips, returns my kiss, and lifts me a fraction off his waist. “You’re making this harder for me, you know, when you kiss me like that.” His eyes glance down to the bulging, hardness hidden in pants to me.
“Like what?” I ask with a smile, kissing him again.
“I’m serious, Kenleigh. If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions.” A groan escapes him as my lips make their way down his neck and then back up.
I peck his lips one last time and lift
off him completely. “You’re right. Now, time to eat.” I pick up the beers and untwist the caps. As I hand his over to him, I notice that he’s still trying to regain his composure. “Are you okay?” I have to ask even though by the bulging veins in his neck and the red tint to his skin, I know he’s not. Technically, I’m not okay either. I’m wound as tight as a rubber band, too, but I’m gradually starting to unwind.
He looks at me through the corners of his eyes with his eyebrow arched. Wes clears his throat before answering, “I’ve been better.”
I nod, hoping that he understands I’m on the same level of discomfort as he. “So, is this where you ran off to earlier?”
“Yeah. Look, I know you heard me and Brantley talking earlier.”
“I did, but I want you to know that what he said doesn’t affect me.”
“He has a point, you know,” Wes replies, as he gets up and comes to sit down next to me. He consumes my attention as I watch him take a drink of his beer. I have to focus on something other than the way his throat muscles move as he swallows, because if I don’t, I just might throw my self-control right out the window.
When I think back to what he just said, it kind of pisses me off. “Don’t do that. Don’t downplay yourself with me,” I say, taking a bite of my pork chop. “Oh… my… Wes, this is so good.” I lift the napkin he handed me earlier, wiping the corners of my mouth. “Did you make all this?” I ask.
“I did,” he says, around a mouthful of food. “You like it, really?” The look on his face brings a smile to mine and helps to curb my anger that was beginning to grow. It’s as if he can’t believe that I might actually like something he made.
“Heck yeah I do. Everything tastes delicious.”
“Back to what I was talking about. You should know I live a fast life, Kenleigh. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m not even going to try to deny what he said back in the barn as something false.”
“Maybe you do, but you’re here, now. Do you like your life in Dallas?”
“I used to think I did. Not so much anymore. For the past year now, I’ve slowly started recognizing that I’m on a downward spiral. Like I’m almost at the point of drowning, but somehow I’m still just barely breathing.” He looks away from me like he’s ashamed of himself or like I might judge him.
“Wes? Please, don’t hide from me. I am no one to judge you or your past. But I would like to know what you mean.”
“I took this season off from bull riding. Last year, I got into a lot of trouble. I was drinking all the time. At first, it started out as a social thing, but then it began happening more and more. It eventually got to the point where I would black out. Every morning, I’d wake up, and wouldn’t know what had happened. The worst part was there was always some different woman in bed with me, if I even made it to bed.” When he turns and looks at me, all I see is remorse in his eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I offer.
He shakes his head. “I need to. I want you to know me just like I want to know you.”
With a nod, I sit patiently and wait for him to continue.
“The last night I really drank anything was the worst. That is when I succumbed to the fact that I really did have a problem. I had just got done riding. There is nothing like being on the back of a bull. It’s a high I just can’t explain.” A wistful smile pulls at his lips. “When you have a two thousand pound, pissed off beast underneath you, and the only thing helping you hold on is a rope, it’s a rush you just can’t get from anything else. No drug on this Earth can give you that feeling. Anyway,” he rakes his fingers through his hair as he sighs before he continues, “that night was the best night of my life. It was the best ride of my life; it was the first time I ever won five million dollars. I’ve won money in previous rides, but never in the millions range.”
I never envisioned that professional bull riders actually made that much. Money has always been offered as a prize, but I never envisioned it could be that much. “Wow. I didn’t know that you were that good. I mean… I didn’t... That came out all wrong.” I shake my head sheepishly.
He chuckles at my chagrin. “I know what you meant. And not to sound conceited or anything, but I gave up my spot in the Professional Bull Riding world finals in Las Vegas this year. My manager advised against it. He told me I was throwing my career down the drain, and that I would never get another opportunity like this.”
“Do you regret the decision you made by coming here?”
“No. As I was saying, that night was the best and worst night of my life. Yeah, I rode great, and opportunities that I never imagined came knocking on my door. But I also got arrested that night, too,” he mutters softly. “I met up with some people from earlier in the night, and we went to an after party. After I got rip-roaring drunk, I wanted to leave, but everyone else decided to stay behind. That’s the last thing I remember. The next morning, I woke up in jail. The worst part is, I don’t even remember how I got there. I had bruises on my hands, but I figured it was from the previous night’s ride. The police had to show me the surveillance videos for me to actually believe it.”
With my curiosity peaked, I ask, “What did you do?”
He drops his head in only what I can imagine is shame. “I busted out the windshield of someone’s car with a bottle of Jack Daniels. I can still see it running on constant replay in my mind. My fists were raised high in the air as I beat the shit out of the hood of the car. The dents looked like it had rained down softball-sized hailstones. It wasn’t like someone pissed me off, and I took it out on their car instead of their face; I didn’t even know the person in that video.” He lifts head and takes a drink of his beer. “I was charged with destruction of personal property that morning. After I saw the Judge and my bail was set, I had to call my parents for them to bail me out. Mind you, I used my own money, but they were the ones who had to come and do it. They were so pissed at me when I explained to them what happened. But what really broke me was when I saw the disappointment written on both of their faces.”
This is so much to take in right now. Wes makes millions doing what he loves. He has a drinking problem. That much is obvious. And here he sits, drinking a beer. He destroyed somebody’s vehicle for no reason other than the fact that he was drunk. And now he has a criminal record that will follow him around for the rest of his life. Then I think back to the first night that I met him. He was drinking that night. “If you have a drinking problem, why did you drink the first night that we met at the bonfire, and why are you drinking now?”
He nods his head as if he knew that question was coming. “I’ve learned to control it. I no longer drink hard liquor and only limit myself to two or three beers at most. My mom and dad know this. They don’t like it, but they also know I never want to be the one to disappoint them again.”
The quiet around us builds as we sit there. Can someone who has a drinking problem be okay with having only a couple of drinks and not suffer a relapse? Is it possible to control that lingering urge? Does one ever really recover from drinking?
“I know you have to have some kind of questions.” The raw vulnerability in his tone catches me off guard. From what I know and have seen of Wes, vulnerability is not an emotion I ever thought I’d see in him.
“Huh? What... No… How long ago did this happen?” I stammer out.
“Last summer. My parents thought it would be a good idea for me to come home then, but I told them how I got myself into this mess and I would have to be the one to fix it. I quit going to after parties. Hanging out with everyone afterwards was just too tempting. The night of the bonfire, your first night here, that’s the first drink I’ve had since before I came home.” He takes a deep breath before looking at me. “Trust me; I get it if you don’t want to hang out with me anymore. I’m not exactly a good guy.”
Right now, I have a choice. I can walk away from what we’re building, from this amazing connection, or I can stick it out and explore this further. He’s gi
ven me a decision to make, and God, I hope it’s the right one, but I do have one question. “You’re not a bad guy either, Wes. You’re human. We all make mistakes. It’s whether we learn from them that will determine just how good and bad we all are. But I am a little confused as to why your life took that kind of turn? I mean, your parents are great, so I can only assume you had a pretty good childhood.”
He nods in understanding. “I did. I had a great childhood, but my dad and I weren’t as close as we are now. He was strict. It was always focus on school, 4H, bull riding, and the ranch. There was always so much pressure put on me from him.” He takes a deep breath before adding. “And in turn, I put a lot of pressure on myself by trying my damndest to be the man he wanted me to be. I’m the only child my parents have. I never wanted to be a disappointment to them, but in the end, I turned out that way, anyhow. As soon as I left the ranch, I went crazy with drinking and partying, which led to sleeping with women I didn’t even know. After everything that happened, it’s the reason I’m taking a break from life… my life in Dallas. I need to get my shit straight before I return. I want to be a person my parents are proud of.”
I reach out with both hands and cup his cheeks as I make him look at me. At the contact, he turns into my touch and kisses my palm. “Nobody’s perfect, Wes. Some mess up more than others do, but that’s life. You’ve made your choices and survived the consequences. People can change. I’ve seen it happen. And you are not a disappointment, so please, never say that again,” I reply softly as I lean into him.
“You have a lot of faith in someone you barely know,” he replies. Wes’ eyes search mine as I kiss his cheek.
“Everyone deserves someone having some type of faith in them. You can change, Wes, but you have to want to, and you have to want to do it for yourself.”
“I know.”
“See, you’ve already taken the first step.”
“Thank you for believing in me,” he mumbles softly against my lips. Wes changes the subject and asks, “So, what brought you out here last summer?”
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