I clapped.
Then threw my arms around her. “Jesus, that’s great news. I’m so happy for you guys. How are the others? Just as excited?”
Callum came in then, a knowing grin on his face.
“Actually,” Callum said, followed in shortly by Banks. “Ace is just as happy, but for his own woman who’s also carrying his child. Seems we’re going to have two rug rats running around together just like we had growing up.”
I grinned even wider then.
“Two out of four brothers are having babies,” Banks said, drawing my attention to him. “That’s a pretty cool thing, I guess.”
“You guess?” Callum laughed.
Banks shrugged. “Babies make me want to scratch. Because I get hives just thinking about it.”
I laughed then.
“Oh my God. At least we’re on the same page,” I found myself saying. In all honesty, I really did want kids. The only problem was that kids required care and love and attention. And that scared the shit out of me. “The idea of having a baby right now literally makes me want to jump off the nearest cliff. Can you imagine? I can’t even take care of my donkey. How would I handle a kid? I have so many things that I’m responsible for right now.”
Banks shared a laugh with me and took a look around the large, now almost empty room.
“Wow,” he said. “What happened to all the display cases?”
I looked where he was looking, seeing the now empty spots where they once had been.
“Well,” I said. “They’re not anywhere, really. We just had them moved to storage—y’all’s barn, actually. Darby helped. We’re going to bring in some shelves and get rid of our storage facility. That way all of our coffee and our baked goods can be stored here as well. And so, we’re not paying a shit ton more money for that climate controlled room that’s a giant pain in the ass to get to.”
Callum gathered Desi up into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Y’all are moving fast now that y’all know what you want,” he observed.
I looked over at Banks. “That’s me, actually. Since we’re leaving tomorrow, making waves in the rodeo world and all, I wanted to make sure she wasn’t stuck with a crap ton of work.”
“And I appreciate her greatly.” Desi wound her arms around Callum’s waist.
I looked away, finding my eyes locked once again on the man who continuously caught my attention.
“Your pops is okay with watching all your animals?” he asked. “And you have the store covered?”
I nodded. “Darby’s girl is holding down the front fort while I’m gone. We moved her into the role of manager, and she’s going to hire someone else with Desi’s help this week to help with closing on the days that she can’t make it. Everyone is honestly thrilled with their new roles.”
Banks’ eyes came to mine. “Even you?”
I nodded once. “I’ve never been a buckle bunny before, or a rodeo girlfriend, but I’m ready and willing to serve you in any way you might need me for exactly the next three weeks.”
I held my hand out as if encompassing my body in all its glory.
Banks’ eyes went from my face and practically swept over my body in the most delicious of caresses. I had no clue if I needed to protect myself from it.
But holy shit, was the man divine.
When he let his eyes drag down my body, I felt like he’d swept a hand down it instead.
My breasts plumped up, and I felt my nipples tighten—which for sure didn’t go unnoticed by him.
“I’ll find plenty of ways to put you to use,” he teased.
I shivered, loving the sound of that.
“You know,” Desi said. “It’s really weird having y’all talking to each other so civilly. Like for real, I like it.”
I liked it, too.
I liked it even more that I was allowed to openly find him attractive without having to try to cover it up by hatred.Chapter 11A human fart is louder than a rodeo announcer. Ask me how I know.
-Banks to Ace
Banks
I wasn’t really sure how we ended up where we were at, but I kind of liked the results.
When the suggestion was made over breakfast a few weeks ago, I’d been torn.
I mean, I was a grown ass man. I didn’t need, nor want, a woman following me around twenty-four seven.
Then again, if that woman was Candy Ray Sunshine, then sweet baby Jesus, I was down.
“You have your own motor coach?” she asked as she stared in awe at the travel trailer.
“A motor coach is a motorized vehicle. This is a travel trailer. I have to pull it with my truck,” I explained, pointing out, what I thought, was the obvious.
She blinked, then shrugged. “Same thing. You have your own travel trailer?”
My lips twitched at her emphasis on travel trailer.
“Yes,” I said. “I have my own travel trailer.”