Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
The artist laughs. “I like y’all.”
“But it is really, really cute.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I think you’re gonna like it.”
Her grin broadens into a smile. “I think I’m gonna love it. Mostly because I love you.”
“I love you more.” I point at the sun tattoo on my own forearm. “I win that contest too.”
Sally bites her lip, a soft look coming over her face. “Can’t believe it took me so long to put two and two together.”
“But you did. And now look at you. You got my ring on your finger and my tattoo on your arm.”
“Our tattoo. I brought the Coke—”
“And I brought the Jack.” I chuckle. “Fair point.”
Looking at my fiancée in the artist’s chair, I’m struck by how fucking gorgeous she is. Her long, dark hair is fanned out around her head, and her full lips are pulled into that pretty smile of hers. Getting tattooed definitely doesn’t feel great, but she’s being incredibly brave—she hasn’t complained once.
I still can’t believe Sally Powell is getting a tattoo. One inspired by our relationship. One that I have inked on my skin too.
Yet another pinch-me moment. I keep having those lately now that Sally and I are together. We’re getting married.
When we sat down last week with Patsy and John B to start planning the wedding, I legit started to cry I was so happy. That made everybody else cry, and then we were all hugging and laughing, joking that we’d have to have the reception in the Wallaces’ new arena because everyone and their mother was gonna want to attend the wedding.
Ava officially extended a job offer to Sally not long after they first spoke about it. Sally of course immediately accepted it. The title is head of veterinary programs, but Ava is letting Sally decide what that entails. So far, Sally’s enjoyed exploring her interests while caring for the Wallaces’ stable of racehorses. She’s happy, so I’m happy too.
As for me, I’m enjoying my role as foreman at Lucky River Ranch more than ever. I think opening up—being honest—has led me to shed my class-clown persona. I don’t have to wear a mask or pretend to be someone I’m not, and because I’m finally able to take myself seriously, I think other people do too. My brothers included.
Go figure—it feels really fucking good to let your guard down every once in a while.
Feels really fucking good to turn to your fiancée and say, “After this, dinner and Forensic Files at home?”
Sally moved in with me the day after I proposed. I love having her at the house. Love the little routine we’ve settled into as a couple.
Most of all, I love waking up next to her every day. Didn’t think happiness this big, this overwhelming, existed. But here we are.
“I love that idea, yeah,” Sally replies.
The artist finishes the piece, then gives Sally instructions for how to care for her new ink. She stands in front of the full-length mirror beside the chair and smiles as she turns her arm this way and that, admiring the tattoo that matches mine.
Sidling up behind her, I drape my arms across her torso and murmur into her neck, “You love it?”
“I love it.”
“Home?”
“Yeah.” She turns her head to nudge my jaw with her nose. “Home.”
Back at the house, I help Sally out of her jacket, then shoulder out of mine. Sally watches me, a hot gleam in her eyes that I’ve come to know well. Awareness gathers between my legs as I hang my jacket on the rack beside the door, then take off my hat.
“Keep that on.” My fiancée licks her lips. “Okay, change of plans. We’re skipping Forensic Files and playing poker instead.”
I smirk. “Poker? Really?”
“A special kind of poker.” Sally grabs my hand. “The kind I’d only play with you.”
I let her pull me into the kitchen. “I’m interested.”
“Thought you might be.”
Grabbing a deck of cards from the junk drawer by the door, I toss them onto the kitchen table. “What are the rules?”
“Simple.” Sally sits at the table and begins to shuffle the cards. “You win a hand, you keep your clothes on. You lose, you take ’em off, one item at a time. You in?”
I pull out a chair and sit, my dick going full salute as I watch my girl confidently deal a hand of Texas Hold’Em. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
She bites her lip, glancing at me across the table. “Should we up the ante? Whoever is naked first orgasms last?”
I let out a bark of laughter. “Sure.” Although I think we both know I’d never come without making Sally come first.
Sally and I have played Hold’Em several times since that fateful night at the potluck, but I’m still pleasantly surprised when Sally wins the first hand, then the second. First, I take off my shirt—putting my hat back on, of course, because my girl gets what she wants. Sally’s nipples harden to tight, visible points as she takes in my naked chest and stomach. She literally moans when I rip off my belt next, followed by my jeans after she wins yet another hand.