30. Red

Ireplace the wad of chewing tobacco tucked into my lip and nudge Heathen's side with my heel to move her along faster. If there's any hope in hell I can shower and get dinner started before Cass gets here, this damn mare needs to cooperate for once in her life. I swear she understands my anxious need and is purposefully ignoring me.

With the afternoon sun heating my back, turning the Carhartt jacket into a personal sauna, I hop out of the saddle. Knowing we're so close to home—and dinner—she finally picks up the pace. Leading her into the barn, I come face-to-face with Austin heading down from his office.

"Hey, boss." I drop the lead rope and begin untacking. "Thanks for babysitting Odessa and Rhett tonight."

I was smart enough to go directly to Cecily with my request to babysit in order to give Jackson and Kate a date night. All so I'd be able to use the nice kitchen in the big house for dinner with Cass. It would've been a lot easier and more convenient to have dinner at her house in town like usual—the routine we've fallen back into since the night she showed up here—but I can't give her my super-late Christmas present unless we're here. Though try explaining that to Cassidy without blowing the whole thing.

"You owe me." He follows behind me to the tack room.

"Yeah, yeah." I toss the saddle down on the rack with a dusty thump and turn to him. "Just trying my best to make this work out, y'know?"

He snorts. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

"I know ya do, boss. Right from the day Filly showed up here, you only had eyes for her. And that's how I've felt about Cass since that rodeo."

"Better go get your shit together, then. She's gonna take one look at you like this and run the other way." He gestures to my appearance—filthy jeans, shit-covered boots, and a wrinkled long sleeve. He's right. I have a lot to do and not much time to do it if I want tonight to be perfect.

"Hey," Cass's voice travels ahead of her. I've been so wrapped up in cooking, I didn't notice her headlights beaming down the driveway. A few seconds later, she turns the corner, wearing a low-cut, flowy red dress I've never seen before, but I'm hoping I get to see very often from now on. Her hair's braided loosely, resting on her shoulder.

"You look… fuck." No words.

She smiles, wrapping her arms around my waist and rising onto the balls of her feet to kiss me. Her lips taste like cinnamon gum, and she melts into me for a moment. "Thought I should get dressed up, since this is technically our first date."

"Every dinner has been a date to me." I tuck a few strands of loose hair behind her ear, even though they don't seem to be bothering her; I'm constantly overwhelmed with the need to touch her in any way I can. And now that we're officially together, I'm allowed to. Which is something I will never take for granted. "You're sexy as hell, no matter what you're wearing… or not wearing."

"We'll get to the ‘not wearing' portion of the evening later." Her teeth tug on my bottom lip, pulling me into a slow kiss.

I can't help myself. I run my hands down her waist and—just like that—I'm under the short hem of her dress. Fingertips tracing the smooth skin of her upper thigh. "Cass, do you always skip underwear on first dates?"

"Never know when my date might need easy access." She shrugs with a sultry smile.

My tongue follows the path of her jawline to her ear, and I whisper, "Such a fucking slut."

The sweetest, softest whimper slips from her lips and brings me to my knees. Fuck dinner, I'll eat her. I lift her dress, smiling to myself at the way she instinctively spreads her legs for me.

"Chase," she moans when my tongue makes contact, dampening the skin and making her thighs quiver on either side of my face. "What if somebody comes in?"

"Guess they'll get a show." I kiss her bare pussy, letting go of the balled up dress fabric in my hands so I can push her legs further apart. "Spread wider, sweetheart."

She obeys—of course she does. She only protested a tiny amount because she probably felt like she should. But our flirty text messages all day prove she wants this. I bury myself deeper, spreading her with my finger and thumb, running my tongue across her warm, wet entrance. The dress fabric around my head muffles her moans, and she buckles, struggling to stay upright as I slide two fingers deep inside her.

"I can't," she pants, knees caving in.

Pulling back to check on her, I find her hands clutching the slick quartz counter edge, knuckles white to stay steady. It's not going to be enough to keep her from collapsing when an orgasm shatters her.

I stand up with a low growl and swipe my forearm across the kitchen island, shoving the dinner prep out of the way. The clang of metal mixing bowls hitting the wood floor echoes through the room, followed by the dull thuds of a dozen or more potatoes falling to the ground one by one. A glass measuring cup shatters, and I slap my hand on the cold counter. "Get the fuck up here."

She stares at me like I've lost my mind. And maybe I have. But my hands grab her ass, and she doesn't fight me as I boost her onto the edge.

"Lean back and let me taste you, baby. Get comfortable."

She leans back on her elbows, keenly watching me lift the skirt of her dress. I duck my head under, running my flattened tongue up the inside of her soft thigh until I reach her wet heat.

Maybe it's because I'm intoxicated by her, but Cassidy Bowman tastes like she was made for me. Like her last name might not stay Bowman if I have any say in it. She's more addictive than any alcohol and, instead of making bad decisions when I drink her, I'm wanting to do so fucking good.

Arching her back, she must flail an arm because something flies off the counter with a loud crash. She moans, thighs battling against the weight of my forearms as she tries to press them together. Still I hold steady, keeping her in place so I can fuck her pussy with my tongue and fingers. Circling her clit and drawing my fingertips against her inner wall, begging her to orgasm. The vibrations from her shaky legs radiate through me and she rocks her hips, forcing my fingers deeper.

"You want it so bad, don't you? Fucking my hand to make yourself come?" I nip the delicate skin of her inner thigh, and her muscles contract underneath me.

Clenching my fingers with her tight pussy, she breathes out an irritated moan. "Somebody has to make it happen."

"You're such a shit." I grip her thick thighs, pulling her off the counter and spinning her around. She reaches for the counter edge, and I draw her hips toward me until she's bent in half. With the weight of the baby pulling on her spine, this position might not be comfortable for long. Good thing I know how to make her come quickly. "Think I can't make you come? You're such a slut for my cock, I bet your cum is running down your legs within seconds. Hold on to the counter—I'll show you."

"Okay, Daddy." She smirks over her shoulder at me.

Fucking hell, I love her.

I can feel her racing heartbeat against the palm I have pressed to her lower back as I scramble to unbuckle my belt one-handed. The head of my cock's pressing into her before my jeans have even puddled around my ankles. She's soaking wet, glistening and perfect with my cock notched at her entrance. Cass moans when I drive into her, letting her head fall forward until it's touching the shiny island.

I finally do the thing I've thought about every damn time I see her hair in a braid. I grab it, gripping the soft, golden mane in my closed fist like a bronc rein, and give a little tug. Nothing too hard. Not at first. She moans, sinking back onto her heels so my cock drives deeper. And I pull again, harder this time.

"You love being used, don't you, Cass?"

"Only by you." She whimpers, palms pressed against the island to support herself. "You can do anything you want to me. I'm yours."

Mine. Somehow Cass is mine.

I inhale deeply. "Fuck. I'm obsessed with you."

Clenching my jaw to fight the urge to come, I fill her repeatedly, watching her head loll side to side. She moans under her breath, and the feeling of her strangling my cock has my balls tightening with a tingling warning. I can't hold back—not with Cass. Coming too soon was never an issue before I met the woman who drives me completely wild with desire. From the moment I slide my dick inside her, it's a losing battle.

Who am I kidding? It's a losing battle from the moment I touch her.

My fingers find her clit, desperately swishing across it until her legs begin to shake and her spine stiffens. And then I let go, closing my eyes and snapping my neck back, succumbing to the shuddering relief that starts in my groin and explodes out through my limbs. Her pussy tightens in waves around me, drawing out my orgasm as she comes. Cass's forehead falls to the countertop and, for a moment, we stay perfectly still in stunned silence.

Tugging my pants up, I kneel behind her and gently lick my way around her pussy. My fingertips gripping her thick ass, I clean our mess with my tongue and revel in the trembling of her thighs against my cheeks.

"Can't say I've ever experienced that on a first date." She says when I stand back up, tucking loose hair behind her ears with a satisfied smile. Attempting to smooth out the creases in her dress. Her cheeks are rosy, hair mussed up, eyes hooded, and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. If I were a painter or a photographer or a writer, this is how I'd want to capture her; leaning her elbow on the counter, free hand cradling her stomach, and a slow rise and fall in her flushed chest.

"Should've let me ask you out a long time ago, Cass. Clearly all those other first dates were a waste of time."

"They fed me dinner, though. And you… have no food anywhere in sight." She bites her lip and scans the now-empty counter space.

Grabbing her shoulders, I turn her in the direction of the long wooden dining table and gently push her forward. "That's enough out of you. Go sit down and let me clean up, then I'll feed you before you get any meaner."

Broken glass, potato shrapnel, and an assortment of cookware litter the floor. By the time the kitchen's cleaned up and dinner's served, it feels like there's a ticking time bomb in the centre of the table. I don't want to be here when Kate and Jackson get back and, based on how quickly Cass inhales her mashed potatoes, I think she feels the same. And this confirms why I need to talk to Austin about moving into his place when their fancy new house is built—it may only be one bedroom, but it's better than the bunkhouse. Maybe I'll temporarily stay in the empty cabin where Cass and I spent the night while I wait for his place to be available. I'm sure I'll be at Cassidy's house most of the time after Little Spud arrives, but I want her to feel comfortable coming here if she wants to.

Holding a firm grip on her hand, I lead Cass along the snowy driveway from the big house to the barn. Even with her knee-length, puffy jacket, she's trembling. I should've warned her we would need to go outside—I'll run her a bath and hold her all night after this. We move slowly so she doesn't slip, following the beam of light from a flashlight clipped to my chest pocket. Finally, we stop in front of a small shed tucked around the backside of the barn.

I turn to her. "Ready for your Christmas present? Close your eyes."

She gives me a wary head bob, eyelids drifting closed, and I unlatch the shed doors. Once I'm sure her eyes are fully shut, I reach inside the door and flip the singular light switch. A small ceiling light glows across the wooden work benches and casts shadows onto the snow through the window and open door.

"Okay. Open."

She's completely silent, her mouth agape, as she takes in her present. A small wooden shed, complete with handmade work benches, a wall of drawers and storage shelves, and even a plush, light-blue rug that's the same shade as her eyes. I'm not a carpenter, but I think I did a damn good job.

"Chase… what—I thought you said a small present. What is this?" She lightly bounces in place, trying her damnedest to hide her excitement.

"Well. It started small, with that leather working tool you said you wanted but were too cheap to buy."

A memory dances across her face. "The fancy maul, yeah."

"Anyway, it turned into this entire workspace. Guess I got bored and needed a way to pass the time, with you ignoring me and all." I nudge her gently with my elbow, and she rolls her eyes. "I don't want you to have to give up something you enjoy. So this way you have a place to do it, and I'll make sure you get the free time."

Cass heads inside, letting her fingers glide across the worktop. She opens drawers, a wide smile making her squint, as I continue explaining. "It has a small heater, and we can do a window AC unit for summer. Figured we could put it in your backyard over the unused garden beds. I also have twenty cowboys with pretty extensive orders placed… belts, chaps, headstalls. I think Jackson wants to talk to you about some custom artwork on a saddle for Kate's birthday." I pull out the notebook where I've been keeping track. It started with a bit of coercion to get every single ranch hand to order a belt. Once the ball started rolling, it got away on me pretty quickly.

She thumbs the pages. "That's a lot of orders, and I won't have a lot of time."

"They're all okay with things taking as long as you need. You're too talented to box up your supplies and call it quits."

"Chase, I… thank you." She launches toward me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling our bodies tight. Suddenly the collar of my shirt is damp, and I press a kiss to her hair.

Before I can catch myself, I whisper the truth that's been pestering me for months. "I love you."

Her sniffling breath stops. Time stops, I think. I can't feel the hum of her heartbeat through all of our clothing layers so, hopefully, she can't feel the way my own is hitting my chest like a jackhammer.

"Cass, please don't freak out. You don't need to say it back… ever. I didn't… fuck." If asking her to go out with me was enough to scare her off a few weeks ago, there's no way this isn't going to bring out the easily spooked wild horse in her. "I didn't say it because I expect you to say it back. You don't ever have to. I-I've never loved someone before, so I don't know how to do this sort of shit. But you're the only one for me, and I can't keep lying to you. Can't keep pretending I don't feel this way. Whether you want it or not, my heart belongs to you. Please don't hate me for it."

With a shaky exhale, her fingers tighten against my back, drawing us closer. "Thank you," she whispers, looking up at me. Her cheeks are tear stained and eyelashes drenched, but the smile she gives me is real.

She loves me. I'm sure of it now.

I never need to hear her say the words, as long as she keeps smiling at me like this for the rest of my life. That's enough for me. It means enough.

I swipe away her tears with the pad of my thumb, then hold my lips to her forehead, her nose, her cheek, and her mouth. And repeat. And repeat. Until the tears stop and her face is pink from my scruffy facial hair, not from crying.