Forbidden Cowboy (Rocky Ridge Creek #1)

Chapter Eight

LEVI

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MY brOTHERS PROMISED to be on their best behavior. Not that I’ve ever known them even to have a best behavior.

I wave them over. “We’re going to set up the tents here.” I point to the area away from the trees.

Reluctance dances across their faces.

“Pick up your pace,” Wheeler bumps into Dean’s shoulder as he bounds past. He’s my wingman today. He will ensure every last Wilde is pro-Fox by the time night falls.

“Yeah, Dean.” Beck, my youngest brother, slams Dean’s other side with a chuckle. They are always the playful and rowdy bunch.

“Where’s Hart?” Hope whispers to me.

“I didn’t invite Hart, and I noticed your sisters didn’t invite Jade.”

“Jade won’t be easy to convince.”

“Neither will Hart.”

“The kids didn’t take long.” Hope points to Wheeler’s daughter and her niece and nephew chasing each other around the town statue.

“That’s got to be a good sign, right?” I lace my fingers in hers, feeling her immediate hesitation. I nudge her to face me. “First, we distract them all. Keep them busy setting up tents and food. We’ll assign each of them tasks. One Fox and one Wilde per task. Once they’re relaxed, we’ll break for food and beer and pray we’ve begun to chip away the walls between us.”

Hope’s nodding, her smile lifting. “Okay, I like this idea. This can work.”

I want to kiss her. If today goes right, there will be a day when kissing the woman I love, wherever the hell I want, won’t be a second thought.

“I want to kiss you, too,” she says as if she can read my mind. Her teasing smile is a mixture of sweetness and allure.

My manhood tightens against my denim. Damn, no woman has ever had this effect on me.

She squeezes my hand before turning to her sisters. “We’ll set up the food under one tent and dine under the other.”

After the tents are pitched, and the coolers of cold drinks and trays of food are set up on the tables, the crew gathers around me and Hope.

Doubt and mistrust penetrate the space between us. Wildes won’t stand beside Foxes. Foxes won’t make eye contact with Wildes.

Hope addresses our siblings. There’s a spark in her eyes I haven’t seen before. “We’re so thankful for y’all coming out and helping us with this.”

No cheer.

No applause.

No words whatsoever.

“We will separate everyone into groups to work on specific stations. There’s measuring and cutting the lumber, kissing booth assembly, staining, and painting. Who wants what?”

Hands are reluctant to rise, so I bark orders, including assigning Beck and Josie to set up ring toss and lawn darts for the kids.

The bright sun's cool breeze and close working quarters force conversation and interaction. I’d go even as far as to say friendly conversation.

A couple of hours pass, and it’s no longer only the Foxes and the Wildes building the kissing booth. Passing townspeople, whether on foot or driving by, stop to see all the commotion in front of the town hall. Wary at first, realizing the feuding families are working together, some stay and lend a helping hand while others bring back the booze, food, and chairs to watch. The kids’ games turn into full-blown adult games filled with laughter you can hear for miles down the road.

Thomas is fuming by the time he gets back with the signs. “What is this? Put those tents down. Move those lawn chairs.” He runs about, trying to rid the crowd, but everyone is having such a blast they brush him off, as usual.

“Thomas, relax. Have a beer.” Deputy Mayor Rita offers him a cold one.

“You can’t drink on town hall property!” He tosses the entire bottle in the garbage as he berates the townspeople.

“Here ya go, boss.” Wheeler drops another load of lumber beside the saw. “All measured and ready for you.”

“Thanks.” I slide the safety glasses over my eyes.

My team includes Wheeler, Hannah, and Wyatt, who popped back around twenty minutes after unloading. I’m sure to check on Hope. But finding the Wilde and Foxes together—which undoubtedly appeared to be a disaster in the making—he decided to stick around.

We finish cutting the structural wood and tackle the redwood. I’ll give Wyatt credit for choosing redwood for its resistance to moisture purposes. I’ll also give him credit for not trying to steal my girl. He has a thing for Hannah. Unfortunately for him, she’s too distracted checking on her rug rats tonotice.

The rumbling buzz of the saw blade touching the wood screeches in my ear. The fresh-cut wood's fragrant and earthy aroma brings me to my roots.

I love working with my hands. Always have. I remember being a young lad, chasing my granddad with my small toolbox and mini tool belt to fix the barn or a fence. While Wheeler’s love for tractors earned him a spot cultivating the crops, and Beck’s love for animals secured his position as head of cattle, I wanted nothing more than to work with my hands. Hart has always been the bossy numbers guy and enjoys hiding in the office.

I slice the last of the wood and scope out Hope. I’ve been tracing her tracks like a lost puppy all afternoon. My lip lifts in a half smile when I see her sauntering my way carrying an ice-cold beer. Her loosely braided pigtails flow from under her brown Stetson.

I toss my safety glasses on the saw table. “That for me?”

“I just got you back in my life, and I’m not letting you cut off a finger drunk sawing.”

“Drunk sawing? That’s not a thing.”

“It’s not today.” Her natural pink lips swathe the top of the beer bottle. She tilts her head backward to slurp the liquid gold. I’m jealous as hell of that bottle.

“Screw it. I’m done on machinery.” I take the bottle from her and swig what’s left. It’s as close to her lips as I’ve been all day.

She laughs.

I laugh.

And when we’ve settled down, she beams at me. “This is going to work.”

At the six-hour mark, the kissing booth’s construction is finished. A handful gathers around the bright red booth for the final paint stroke of the night. Hope has some extra touches she plans to add once the paint dries, but the main construction is officially finished.

I step nice and close to Hope, brushing against her backside. My hand covers her hand, which grips the paintbrush. I hear her slight intake of breath, even surrounded by half the town. I smell her orange womanly sweetness.Half the town is drunk, so I doubt they’re paying attention to the heat between us.

“Three, two, one!” The crowd counts down.

We stroke the last spot, and the crowd goes wild. Flashes from phones snap. Beer bottles clang together. But the most crucial part of the night is seeing my brothers and Hope’s sisters congratulate one another.

With work finished, barbecues are grilling steak, burgers, and hotdogs. I swear half the town is here. The crowds have spilled into both parking lots. Everyone’s getting along, laughing and joking. Wilma, Faye, and their quilting club claimed a tent, and they’re busy quilting away. Thomas has given up trying to shoo everyone and is passing out the rodeo and fair flyers while attempting to rope in more volunteers.

“Hey, come here.” I slip my hand in Hope’s, and we duck out of sight. We skip to the side door of the town hall. Inside, I pull her down the short hallway into the events storage room.

I lock the door behind us and gather her in my arms. “Hi.”

She wraps her arms around my neck. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

She laughs, and the sweet, soft sound is music to my ears. “We’ve been together all day.”

“It’s not close enough.” I cover her mouth with mine and slowly lap my tongue with hers. The rush and fear of never kissing her again diminish, leaving time to truly enjoy every part of her.

“You taste like beer and sour cream chips.” She sucks her lower lip between her teeth.

I groan. “I want to take you here.”

A devilish glimmer lights her eyes. “I’m not objecting.”

I groan again, this time capturing her mouth in another kiss. Harder. Longer.

When her fingers tickle the skin above my belt buckle, I grasp her hand. “Not here.”

“Why not?” She puckers out her lower lip in a sexy pout. Her gorgeous green eyes are a pool of desire. I’m so fucking hard that I’m on the verge of exploding.

“I want to do it right next time. No hiding. I want to strip you naked, lay you down on a bed, and ravish every part of you like you deserve.”

Her fingers curl around the waistband of my pants. “Aren’t we the romantic?”

“I was thinking we’d have a date first.”

“A date.” She rolls the words on her tongue. “How very formal of you.”

“I wanna do right by you, Miss. Fox. Make up for lost time. Make up for my asshole adolescence.”

“You were such an asshole.” Humor smears her stern look.

“So I’m told. Even Wheeler said if I don’t do right by you, he will kick my ass.”

“Wheeler?” Surprise laces her voice.

“Yeah, he has a soft spot for you. I think Beck does too.”

“I hate to say it, but none of my sisters have a soft spot for a Wilde.”

“Not even Josie?”

She laughs. “If it comes up to defending you or getting a rise out of a crowd, she’ll toss you in the mud every time.”

“Tough crowd.”

Her fingers curl around my hair, pulling my ear to her mouth. “Listen, cowboy.” Her tongue wets my earlobe. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for. Twelve years. So many lost opportunities.”

“So many lost opportunities.” My voice is a hoarse whisper.

“That I say we take advantage of every single moment we have alone.” Her teeth tug my ear. “And that means banging me in the storage closet.”

“I have a better idea.” I unbutton her shorts and shove them down her legs. I lower myself and kiss her middle while slowly sliding her panties to her ankles. I lift her easily, and she wraps her legs over my shoulder. I press my lips against her womanhood. She’s wet and waiting. I lick her in long, slow strokes before my tongue spreads her apart.

Hope’s nails dig into my scalp, pulling me deeper. She moans my name, and it’s the best fucking sound in the world.