Chapter Five

Daisy

I've been staring at this photo for the last eight minutes. My friends are all wondering who the big, rough biker is next to me, and half the school board has commented with shocking face emojis. Apparently, none of them saw it in me to date such a rugged, monster of a man.

My ex, Mike, always presented like a church kid. Tall, lanky, and clean cut despite the fact that he was anything but clean.

My friend Lydia messages me.

Lydia: What the hell? Why am I the last to know?

I glance up at Country. "Lydia is texting. She's asking me when we started dating. What do I tell her?"

"Stick to the plan. We can't take a chance on anyone figurin' out this is sort of bullshit."

"Sort of?"

He grins. "Yeah, I mean… maybe you'll like fake datin' me and you'll wanna really date me."

I roll my eyes at his comment, but my pussy throbs. I would love a real date with Country, if it weren't all so complicated.

Me: Sorry. It all happened pretty quick.

Lydia: Yeah, really quick. This morning you couldn't stand the dude.

Me: Was that this morning? It seems like a lifetime ago.

Lydia: I mean, that picture is hot, though. On his bike, his hand on your throat. Daaannnmmm!

Me: OMG! Stop.

Lydia: Never. Where do I get one of these biker dudes? I need an adventure. That man looks like he could be a good time.

Me: I don't know. Try a biker bar.

Lydia: Rugged Mountain doesn't have a biker bar.

Me: Mullet's is a biker bar when the bikers pull in. LOL.

Lydia: What do you even know about this guy?

She has a point. I don't know a lot of things about Country. I know he's southern, he likes grits with cheese, he's good with his daughter, and his hands. Other than that, I'm clueless.

Me: I gotta go. I'll call you later.

Lydia: Don't you dare leave me. You owe me so many things.

Me: Yeah, right. LOL. Talk to you later. XOXO.

I know I'll have an onslaught of messages from her later, but that's what I love about Lydia. She's persistent, nosy, and still manages to be everyone's best friend. I could never pull that off. I worry too much about what people think. I need to get better about that. Who cares what people think?

Well, I do… but I should stop.

"It looks like the picture is doing well. We're up to seventy-two likes, a bunch of crude comments, and a few shocked fans," I say, glancing toward Country who's poured himself a glass of tea.

"It's a hot picture."

"You're hot in the picture. I look like a troll."

He looks toward me. "You ain't a troll. You're gorgeous."

I glance down at the floor and back up at him again. He's standing in front of me, looking down, his gaze heavy and heated. It's the same way it was in the classroom earlier.

"What do ya dream about?"

"Dream? Like… how I consistently dream that I forgot my high school locker combination, and everything is due in the next class."

"No." He laughs. "What do you want for your life?"

"Oh." The question catches me off guard. I've spent so much time worrying about what Mike wanted next that I never considered myself. "I don't know."

Country pulls out a dining chair and looks toward me. "Let's think about it then. Do you like teaching?"

I nod, in awe of the amount of care oozing from this giant ruffian. "I love it. Watching the kids grow over the course of the year makes me feel like I'm really doing something. Bumping into past students is fun too. They always remember me and some anecdote that happened when they were in class. This one year, the class guinea pig got loose and the whole place went crazy. Kids were jumping on their desks, searching on their hands and knees, screaming at the top of their lungs. The classroom went into a complete chaos of laughter and insanity. I hear about it every time I run into one of them in the halls."

"Did you find the pig?" He grins.

"Yeah. He'd run into the trashcan someone knocked over. His squealing gave him away."

Country looks at me as though he really cares about what I'm saying. His body is leaned in, his gaze is relaxed but attentive, and his hand moves back and forth against my skin as though he's calming me.

I've never been attended to like this. He hasn't compared what I've said to something in his life, or made some weird joke to shift the focus back to him, and he hasn't found a way to take over the conversation. He's just listening.

"What about your personal life? What do you want from that?"

I drag in a deep breath. This is the more complicated question. Mike never wanted kids, so I convinced myself that I didn't either. I assured myself that the kids at school were enough. And they are, to some extent, but there's a part of me that's always dreamed of a big family. "I don't know. What about you?"

"We're not talkin' about me, darlin'. I wanna know what you want."

I drag in a deep breath. Something about this man makes me giddy. He makes me want to crash into him, bury myself against his chest, and never leave.

"I guess I'd like a big family. Two or three kids. Maybe four. A farmhouse with some chickens and a flock of ducks."

"Ducks?"

"Yeah." I smile. "They're cute with their little butt waddle."

"Okay…" He chuckles. "What else?"

"A front porch with a rocking chair and wind chimes! Not the metal ones, they're annoying, but the wooden ones that clank together and make the hollow tapping sound. Those are like heaven."

"What else?"

"A rocking chair. Two of them, but I don't want them spaced apart. I want them close together so I can hold your hand."

"My hand?" His smile is so wide I think I might die.

"Did I say that?"

"You did." He grins wider somehow. "You want to hold my hand."

My cheeks heat until I'm sure they're flaming red. "I don't even know you. And last week, I thought you were the most annoying guy on Earth. I didn't mean to say your hand. I just meant… a hand."

"It's not last week anymore. What do you feel now?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Now, I feel this weird electricity every time I look at you, but it's too soon. We can't move this quickly. You have Belle to think about and she's already too invested. You heard the directions she gave us before she went off to the neighbors." I bite back a smile. "We're supposed to kiss three times before the day is over. Oh, and it had to be on the lips. She made us pinky promise."

He brushes back a strand of hair from my face, sending a chill down my spine. "What if it's not too soon? What if I know what I want?"

"How, though?"

"When I look at you, I want to protect you the same way I wanna protect Belle. I want you both safe and under my roof to watch over."

"Maybe you see me as a kid, then. I mean, you're a lot older than me. It's probably that. You just feel sorry for me."

He smiles and cups my face in his rough hand. "You're not a child. You're an adult, and I don't feel sorry for you. I have feelin's for you. Now you can say none of what I'm sayin' makes any sense, and believe me, I see it too, but I know what I feel. I ain't never felt this way before. You're mine to protect now, whether ya like it or not. And that hand yer holdin' on the front porch, that's mine in your fantasy because you know where you belong." His tone is deep and raspy, and his gaze hasn't left mine for a second. "Let's go for a ride," he says with a sly look. "I want you on the back of my bike. Besides, it'll be a bit before our boy takes the bait."

"I've never ridden before."

"Never?"

I shake my head and a rumble of nerves spikes my blood pressure. I love seeing Country in his element, but the idea of being on the back of a bike, on the mountain, scares the hell out of me.

"One ride… for me?" The way he smiles and holds my gaze has my panties creaming again.

"What if Mike comes by? We don't want to miss him."

"He's not going to leave. He'll stick around and wait for us. Trust me. We can stand a twenty-minute ride."

Our eyes lock on one another, and heat passes between us. His hand reaches out for mine and I grasp on with a heavy breath. Yesterday, I'd have thought this was a huge mistake.

Country is a rough guy. The kind of guy you mess around with, but not the guy you marry. At least that's what I thought until today. Today, I saw a whole different side of him. I saw a father. A careful, loving, and kind man who wants the best for his daughter. The kind of man that likes fishing and making a pot of spaghetti for his kid. A guy who runs bounties to keep Rugged Mountain safe for her.

That guy. That guy makes my ovaries want to explode.

I stare up at him, and with all my courage say, "Take me for a ride."