Taking in her appearance and affected by it in a multitude of ways, he didn’t move as she made it to him. He noted instantly her usual musky, floral, outdoorsy scent was deeper than normal and he noted this as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed close.

Her back was arched, her head tipped way back to keep her eyes on him and softly, she said, “They’ll be cool. If they aren’t, we’ll go home early.”

She was talking about the kids spending an extra night with Audrey. He liked it that she cared and was thinking about his kids.

But she was wrong about the train of his thoughts.

“I know they’ll be cool. They’re good kids. Though, not sure if Reesee will make it an entire weekend without breathing Fin’s air.”

Dusty grinned at him and pressed closer.

Fuck, fuck, she was beautiful.

Even more here, at home, in her element.

He wasn’t holding her and he didn’t but he did lift a hand to cup her jaw.

When he did, his eyes moving over her face, he murmured, “Think, right now and maybe forever, you’re the most beautiful woman I ever have and ever will see.”

He felt her body press deeper into him as her eyelids got soft and her lips parted.

Then she whispered, “Sometimes Jonathan Michael Haines, you kill me.”

Last night, when Dusty (and Fin) were over, No had shared Mike’s full name and since then Dusty had used it fifty times.

He slid his hand down to her neck and asked, “What’s with the full name business, Angel?”

She grinned again and her arms gave him a squeeze.

“I didn’t know that about you,” she answered. “I found it a shock,” she widened her eyes and got up on her toes, “an actual shock that I didn’t know something about you.” She rolled down on her feet, kept grinning and talking. “This is so easy. It feels like we’ve been together forever sometimes. So I say it because I like to remind myself we’re new and I have a wealth of things to uncover about Jonathan,” she shook his middle, “Michael,” she shook it again, “Haines.” She ended on a squeeze and a smile.

She was so fucking adorable, not able to stop himself but also not trying, Mike slid his hand into her hair, bent his neck and dropped his mouth to hers. Her lips opened, his tongue slid inside and he kissed her with both her arms around him, his one hand wrapped around a beer resting on her kitchen counter, his other hand buried in her hair. With her pressing herself tight against him, he took his time, he built it for the both of them and he only broke it when she pressed deep and he heard that sexy little noise slide up the back of her throat.

“Thank God I didn’t put on my lip gloss yet,” she whispered breathily a second after he lifted his head away half an inch.

He smiled into her eyes but even as he did, he told her, “Later, we got shit to talk about.”

Her eyes danced and she returned, “Hopefully, we’ll always have shit to talk about.”

He lifted his head another inch, feeling his smile fading. “Important shit, sweetheart.”

Her eyes moved to his mouth then back to his.

Then she noted, “I’m not real hot on the look on your face.”

Mike wasn’t real hot on what he was feeling.

“Mike?” Dusty called and he focused on her.

“Tomorrow. Now, let’s go meet your friends.”

“Unh-unh,” she shook her head and kept her arms locked around him. “No way. I’m not about to commence drinking with Jerra, which commences anything goes worried about what’s on your mind. Spill.”

“Dusty –”

Her eyes narrowed, she got up on her toes and squeezed tight. “Spill.”

Christ, she could be adorable.

Mike smiled and muttered, “Seems you can be bossy too.”

“Don’t be sexy, cute hot when I’m being bossy,” she ordered and Mike started chuckling.

“Mike,” it was a warning, “spill.”

Mike spilled.

“You’ve got a good life.”

This time Dusty smiled. “Noticed that did you?”

He tore his eyes from her smile and looked at the sun setting over the south Texas plains. When he looked back at her, strangely, she looked confused.

Still, he replied, “Yeah, I did. Then again, hard to miss.”

She edged an inch away but didn’t take her arms from him and asked, “You mean this?”

Mike blinked at her and he did it slow.

“This?” he asked.

She looked around then back at him. “Yeah. This. Is that what you mean?”

“Darlin’, you got a great house, a buttload of land, a fantastic business and a hassle-free life. So yeah. I mean this. All of it.”

She studied him and she did it closely.

Then she announced, “Beau’s down here. He’s a pain in my ass and if you’ll remember on our plane ride down here, I forewarned you he’s a staple at Schub’s especially Friday night. You’ll probably see him. He’ll probably do something to prove he’s a jackass and being a hot guy, alpha male, badass you’ll probably be forced to do something that will prove to everyone he’s what they already know. A jackass.”

“Dusty –”

“Then there’s Ryder who broke my heart. Broke it in half. He moved away but he’s back and I see him every once in a while. It’s not a lot but each time it hurts. Not remembering what we had but that I fell for his shit.”

“Dus –”

“And it doesn’t snow here. Not even at Christmas. Brown Christmases suck, babe.”

Mike felt his lips turn up but still he tried again, “Dusty –”

He also failed.

“There’s no Hilligoss. There’s no Reggie’s. There’s no Frank’s. I’ll repeat there’s no Hilligoss. And the only bar in town is Schub’s and if you’re not in the mood for rowdy, you’re fucked.”

He dipped his face closer and started, “Honey, I –”

She cut him off again. “If I don’t go back, I’ll miss the teenage romance of Finley Holliday and Clarisse Haines playing out and I definitely won’t be able to play kickass, cool, cowboy boot-wearing, pottery-making fairy godmother Aunt Dusty.”

Mike decided to shut up.

It was a good decision seeing as Dusty wasn’t done.

“No wants me to sing with his band the next time I’m home and they’re practicing. Rocky was cool and I liked her. Merry was hilarious and I really liked him. Both No and Rees are nowhere near ready to be on their own on a horse so there’s tuition I’m in the middle of that it’s a moral imperative I finish. And if Audrey starts fucking up your life, who’s going to get in a bitch smackdown with her?”

She stopped talking.

So Mike felt it safe to ask, “Are you done?”

“No,” she replied then finished, “Most importantly, down here there’s no you.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Angel,” he whispered but had no more. His chest was burning and he found he couldn’t talk around the intensity of the heat.

“Texas isn’t gonna fall into an ocean, Mike,” she said softly. “You know I’ve decided I’m not selling the ranch. I’m gonna rent it. No doors are closing. But one opened a while ago and I think you remember I walked right through.”

“I don’t want you to have any regrets,” Mike said softly right back.

She shook her head and again pressed close. “I’ve been involved in lots of games of the heart, gorgeous. Rolled the dice time and again, took a lot of risks, took a lot of falls. Finally seems I’m winning. I’m not about to play it safe now.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“How badly you want me to meet Jerra and Hunter?” Mike asked.

He watched her blink then she asked, “Sorry?”

“How badly you want me to meet your friends?”

“Uh…badly. As badly as they wanna meet you.”

“So how pissed would they be that we’re an hour or two late?”

Light dawned, her eyes flashed, he had to fight his dick getting hard but even as her face got soft, her lips grinned.

“They got a babysitter. Since I called her Wednesday and told her we’re coming down, Jerra’s been so beside herself, you’d think I told her I was bringing Charlie Hunnam home with me. She’s called seven times. If we’re even ten minutes late, she’ll lose her mind.”

“Charlie who?”

“Charlie Hunnam, Jax from Sons of Anarchy. She watches that show religiously. She has a Sons of Anarchy coffee mug. A Sons of Anarchy ashtray even though she doesn’t smoke. A Sons of Anarchy t-shirt. And she has a Sons of Anarchy billfold that she actually uses that says, ‘What would Gemma do?’ She’s told Hunter that if Charlie Hunnam shows up at the door and tells her she’s the woman of his dreams, she’s leaving him and their kids. Hunter is usually laidback about most stuff but seeing as he’s half Mexican-American, half-WASP, dark-skinned, black-haired and looks absolutely nothing like Charlie Hunnam, not to mention he’s ten years older than Charlie, he, for some reason, does not find this amusing. So, head’s up, babe. Do not mention Sons of Anarchy and absolutely do not mention Charlie Hunnam or sparks will fly and I promise you’ll get burned.”

“So, boiling all that down, you’re saying I can’t take you to bed and fuck you as my way of saying thank you for making me feel easy.”

She melted into him but answered quietly, “Unfortunately, yes.”

She was right. It was unfortunate.

“Then we should get going.”

She didn’t move or let him go.

Instead she called, “Mike?”

He slid his hand back to her jaw and answered, “Yeah?”

“Sure you’re easy?”

He held her eyes and whispered, “Yeah.”

“You see me giving up a lot. But I don’t think you get what I’m gaining.”

“I get it.”

“Then I’m not sure you understand how much it means to me.”

He pulled in breath and that burn in his chest came back.

“Well if I didn’t,” his eyes tipped out the window at the darkening horizon then they came back to her, “now I do.”

She held his gaze.

Then she smiled.

Then she whispered on an arm squeeze, “Good.”

Then she rolled up on her toes, kissed him quickly, let him go and they got in their rental SUV and drove to Schub’s.

* * *

“You want, I can find you a leather strap and you can bite down on it. Won’t ease the pain but it’ll mean you won’t scream.”

That was Rivera giving Texas advice for sitting at a Saloon and Hoedown watching your woman getting whipped around by a mechanical bull for the third time.

Yes, the third time.

Clearly, she’d done it often but had not got any better at it. Mike knew this because two seconds after Rivera’s offer, off Dusty flew to land in a pit of sawdust covered foam rubber.

She jumped to her feet, hair flying, sawdust drifting, body unsteady as she tried to balance on the foam rubber. Once steady, she threw her hands in the air and screeched, “Giddyup!”

The crowd went wild.

Yes, for the third time.

“Jesus,” Mike muttered.

“Payback,” Rivera muttered back and Mike tore his gaze from his woman brushing off flakes of sawdust to the handsome, half-Mexican-American, half-WASP man sitting with him at the table and smiling a big white smile.

“Pardon?”

“You laid her out,” Rivera reminded him. “Now, I coulda called and warned you that Schub’s was not the place to be…” he hesitated, “ever with Jerra and Dusty. We coulda gone to Del Rio Cantina. Best Mexican food outside of Mexico. Quiet until the mariachi band starts roaming. And although the tequila and lime juice flows and those two women get loud, there’s no mechanical bull to climb on and there’s no DJ to beg to play ‘Achy-Breaky Heart’.”

“Fuck,” Mike muttered, not looking forward to that part of the evening.

“Yeah. They love that song though they start it dancing and end it hanging on each other giggling. Then they sit at the table and talk for an hour about how the mullet is a male hairstyle that’s underappreciated.”

“Christ.” Mike was still muttering.

“Don’t worry, I think they’re jokin’,” Rivera assured him.

Fuck, he hoped so.

“So, to sum up,” Hunter went on. “You’re here as payback. I think this is painful enough you’ll never do the dirt on Dusty again.”

Mike’s eyes drifted to the mechanical bull to see Jerra climbing on it with Dusty on the sidelines jumping up and down, clapping, shouting and more bits of sawdust that she hadn’t swiped off drifting from her clothes and hair.

Mike’s eyes went back to Rivera. “I’m not certain the punishment fits the crime.”