“Not happening, sweet thing,” Bronco says when I press myself into his side and my body melts into his.
How does this place already have a sense of home to it? I woke up in an empty bed and wasn’t too happy about it until I smelled breakfast. Bronco stands at the stove flipping a pancake with a pile of crispy bacon next to it.
I’m tender between my legs after last night. I lost count of how many times we went at it because it was kind of a frenzy. At some point it slowed down and then it was gentle and sweet. That was Bronco though, and he has all kinds of sides to him.
I’m thankful for the years of horse riding because I’m sure I’d be in a whole lot more pain if not for that. Still, with every move I make, I can feel that Bronco was inside me most of the night. It might sting a bit, but I enjoy it. The same way I enjoyed it when he spanked me.
When he’d taken over control, it was as if a weight had been lifted off of me that I didn’t know was there. Not until he removed it and Bronco was there to take care of me. He was in charge, and I was to do what I was told. I knew and trusted everything would be more than okay, and I was right.
It hits me hard that I trust him. Not only that, but he’s the only person I’ve ever trusted in my whole life. Even now I can see the hard ridge of his cock in his jeans straining to get out and play. Instead, Bronco’s not going to give me what I want because he knows I’m sore and he doesn’t want to hurt me. I think I’ll be okay, but he would worry about it the whole time. Again, another crazy moment where someone is worrying over me. That's new too.
“I think I love you, Bronco.” The words slip past my lips, and he cocks his head toward me as his eyes meet mine. I think I might have shocked him since Bronco is always so quick with his words and comebacks. In fact, the man is always three steps ahead of everyone and everything. “More than that, I trust you. I don’t think you know what that means for me,” I say, letting it all out.
It’s too late to hold it in now because I’m well beyond the point of return. He either breaks my heart or he gives me everything that I could have dreamed of. Why wait and take baby steps toward that when I could know it all now? I think he’s going the same way I am, especially after the whole baby comment and taking care of me. Then again, he could have meant in the chance I got pregnant. If I didn’t, then there’s nothing to take care of.
“Tracy.” He turns off the stove and abandons breakfast. I’m a bit taken aback by him calling me Tracy. Once upon a time sweet thing annoyed me, but now that’s all I want to hear. Hearing his tone gives me a sense of unease. “When I came out to take a look at the Circle C, it was meant to be an investment—”
An alert goes off through the house, cutting him off. “What’s that?” I ask, glancing around. I haven't heard that sound before.
“It means someone is coming up the driveway. Put some clothes on,” he orders me.
“I’m wearing your shirt. It comes past my knees.”
“With nothing under it.” I roll my eyes but dash off toward the bedroom to get some bottoms.
I pause when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My tousled hair is a mess, so I run my fingers through it. My mouth is as tender as I am between my thighs, but that’s because Bronco loves to kiss me. Everywhere.
I’ve been missing out on so much in life that I hadn’t realized how bad things were until someone pulled me out. Now that I’ve gotten a good look from the outside, it’s a taste of a different kind of life.
I can’t believe I ever let my father treat me the way he did. I ran that place, and without me, it would have gone under years ago. He was always skimming money off the top, and I’ve got a feeling he’s been betting on the wranglers and paying some of them to fall off sooner than they should, but that’s only a theory. One that I suppose doesn’t matter much anymore. Not with him being gone.
“Life can be different. I have to choose it,” I tell myself in the mirror before I hurry to find something to wear. Whoever has shown up is here at the worst time. I’m not sure what Bronco was about to say. My mind wants to go to the negative because nothing ever comes easily, and this has all been a bit too easy.
When I exit out of the bedroom, I see Sheriff Reynolds and Maguire talking with Bronco. They’re all standing in the entryway, and I notice Bronco has his boots on like he’s about to go somewhere. I think I hear my name and something about a mistake, but they’re all talking too low. They must hear me because their heads swing my way, and they all stop talking.
“I need you to stay put. I have to make a run,” Bronco says. His tone is flat, and everything about him is unreadable. I shift on my feet as unease starts to rise, but I nod my head. I want to ask a million questions, but something is going on.
As quick as I answer, he’s gone. The sheriff and Maguire follow after him, and I don’t know how long I stand there watching them disappear in the distance. I was feeling all big and proud of myself, and suddenly I’m back to the feeling of being an abandoned little girl.
My heart leaps when I hear that alarm go off again, thinking Bronco came back to get me or something. I rush over toward the door and swing it open, but my stomach drops when I see my father’s old truck pulling down the long driveway toward me.
I rush back into the house and slam the door before locking it.
“Come on, girl, I don’t got all day,” he shouts after I hear the sound of the old truck door opening and then closing. His footsteps are heavy on the steps up to the porch. “I’ve come to collect.”
“Collect?” I ask through the door. What the hell does that mean?
“Bronco got what he wanted, time for you to go.” I swallow the lump that rises in my throat. Did I scare Bronco off because I told him I loved him? Was it something the sheriff said? It doesn’t matter. No one is collecting me.
“That might be so, but I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll find my own way out of here.”
“To where?” He laughs. The sounds make my skin crawl. I’m hurting, and he’s laughing. “You belong to me. Always have, always will.” His voice is sinister, and I think he really does despise me. Maybe it’s because I look too much like my mother. The one woman who walked away from him.
Some things never change. Or maybe nothing ever changes.