Page 29 of Awaiting the Storm (Wildhaven #1)

M atty’s already on the front porch when I pull up to the ranch house at Wildhaven Storm.

The sky’s gone soft and pink behind her, the sun slipping lower over the ridgeline.

She’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved blouse, canvas overnight bag slung over one shoulder, her blonde hair loose and wavy.

My heart stutters a little in my chest at the sight of her.

She hurries toward the truck, gravel flying under her boots, and I hop out, circling around to open the door for her.

“Good evening, beautiful.”

She arches a brow. “Evening, cowboy.”

I grin. “You packed light.”

“I don’t need much for one night,” she says, her lips lifting into a devilish smile.

I chuckle and reach for the bag, tossing it behind the seat. Leaning in closer, I whisper in her ear, “I might keep you and never let you leave.”

Her eyes soften as she climbs in. I close the door and walk around to the driver’s side. I catch sight of Evelyn and Charli peeking out from the front window, and I wink at them.

Once I’m behind the wheel, I lean in and kiss her. It’s not a quick kiss; it’s the kind I’ve been thinking about since the last time I had my hands on her. She melts into it with a sigh, her fingers curling lightly around the collar of my shirt.

When I finally ease back, I keep my forehead pressed to hers. “Is it okay that I’m stealing you for the whole night?”

She smiles a slow and lazy smile. “Yeah. I made sure everything was handled. Daddy and Grandpa agreed to help Charli with evening chores.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Volunteered, did they? ”

She scoffs. “Not exactly. But they have a hard time telling me no.”

I lick my lips. “I can understand.”

She grins. “I also agreed to take over egg-gathering duty for the next two months.”

“Two months? Ouch.” I lean back. “That seems like an awfully long penitence for one night of chores.”

“Grandpa hates the bitter, cold winter mornings,” she says with a shrug, turning her head to look out the window as I back out of the drive. “And I don’t mind them.”

“You’re a good granddaughter,” I note.

We fall into a companionable silence as I turn us out onto the main road. The sky’s deepening into that dusky blue now, the last of the sun barely hanging on over the horizon.

It takes a few minutes before she glances at me and frowns. “You missed the turn.”

I keep my eyes on the road, fighting a smile. “I know.”

She looks back over her shoulder. “Ironhorse is back that way. I thought we were going to your place?”

“We are.”

That earns a raised brow. “Where are we going?”

“There’s somewhere I want to show you.”

Matty doesn’t say anything else, just crosses her arms loosely over her chest and angles toward me in her seat, the curiosity clear on her face.

I keep driving, heading about five miles farther up the road before I make a left onto a narrow drive.

It’s nothing fancy, just gravel and dirt winding through a stretch of tall pines.

A white sign stuck in the grass at the turn reads For Sale , half faded in the light.

Her brows knit together. “Are you buying land?”

I don’t answer yet, just pull up near a weathered split-rail fence and park. The truck rumbles to a stop, and I kill the engine, pocketing the keys.

“Come on,” I say, pushing open my door. “I want to show you something.”

She hops out of the truck and follows me, her boots crunching over fallen pine needles.

We stroll down a wide path, shaded by tall, thick trees.

A gentle breeze rustles through, carrying the frosty chill of a November evening.

After about a hundred yards, the trees open up into a quiet clearing.

Just beyond it, a large, still pond stretches out, its surface shimmering in the fading light.

Matty stops beside me, taking it in.

“Well?” I ask, sliding my hands into my pockets. “What do you think?”

She glances up at me, eyes wide, then back at the view. “It’s beautiful,” she says softly.

I nod. “That’s what I thought too. I put in an offer on it this morning.”

Her head whips around. “You what?”

“Yeah.” I grin excitedly. “It’s close to Ironhorse, close to town. It’s a hundred acres. There’s a little house that comes with it, but the real draw is this right here.”

She takes a few slow steps forward, the pond reflecting her like glass. “You’re serious?”

“I am.” I walk over and stand beside her, my voice lower now. “I figured this would be a good spot to build something. One house for me. One for my mom.”

Matty turns to face me again, blinking. “Your mom?”

“Yeah. I want her closer. The farm is too big for her to manage alone, and I don’t like her being out there by herself.

Since I’m staying here in Wildhaven, I want her here as well.

” I point past the tree line toward a gently rising hill in the distance.

“Her house will go there. That hill is just far enough away that we won’t be on top of each other, but close enough for me to keep an eye on her. ”

Matty lifts a hand to shield her eyes, looking where I’m pointing.

“Figure I can buy her a horse,” I add, “or maybe a four-wheeler. Whatever she wants to go back and forth.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Well, you thought of everything.”

I shrug. “Tried to. I wanted it to be convenient for me to get to work at Ironhorse, but also easy for her to go into town. Coffee shop, salon, grocery store. She’d be leaving everything that’s familiar. I want the transition to be easy. ”

Matty looks back at the water, her expression thoughtful. “It’s amazing, Caison. Honestly, I love it.”

“Me too. Now I just have to convince her to go for it.”

“You made an offer without telling her?”

I nod. “I mentioned that I was looking at it and hoped she’d come. She didn’t give me a definite yes, but she didn’t say no either. Besides, whether she comes or not, this is going to be my home.”

“I can see you here,” she says.

My chest loosens a little. “I’m glad. I really wanted you to see it. And to like it.”

We stay there for a few more minutes, watching the water ripple in the wind, before I guide her back to the truck. It’s completely dark now, and the stars are starting to appear in the sky.

Once we’re back on the road, I glance over at her. “You hungry?”

She smiles. “Starving.”

“Good.” I tap the steering wheel. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to cook for you.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “You can actually cook?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ve just never met a cowboy who didn’t think cooking meant tossing a steak on the grill and calling it a night.”

I feign offense. “I’ll have you know, I have been cooking for myself for a very long time.”

She smirks. “Is that right?”

“You’ll see.”

We make it to my cabin just past eight. I unlock the door and let her in ahead of me.

I click on the lamp as we enter, and the soft yellow glow makes the place feel warmer than usual.

I’m glad I took the time to straighten the place up before I left for Jackson.

Dishes washed, floors swept, laundry out of sight.

“Make yourself at home,” I tell her, heading into the kitchen .

She drops her bag beside the couch and follows me, leaning against the counter as I grab a skillet.

“Cast iron. You mean business,” she notes.

“Course I do.”

She raises a brow. “I honestly didn’t know what to expect. A frozen pizza maybe.”

I laugh as I bend and give her a quick kiss. “Not a chance.”

I start throwing ingredients together—chopped mushrooms, cabbage, red onion, garlic, bell peppers, and seasoned chicken thighs. They go into the skillet to sear while I open a bottle of wine and pour her a glass.

She sips it slowly. “That smells amazing.”

“Hopefully, it’ll taste amazing.”

Dinner takes about thirty minutes to finish cooking, and I plate everything neatly, adding a drizzle of sauce I prepared. We sit at the small table near the window, where the moon is visible over the treetops.

She takes one bite and closes her eyes. “Mmm,” she moans. “Fine. You win.”

“Damn. I’d cook for you every night just to hear you moan like that.”

Her eyes open and lock with mine.

“Stop looking at me like that and eat, Miss Storm. You’re gonna need your energy.”

A small gasp escapes her at my declaration, but she recovers quickly and digs back in.

The rest of the meal passes in an easy rhythm—bites and laughter and low conversation. When we’re done, I clear the plates, insisting she relax. She tries to argue, but eventually gives up and takes her bag into the bathroom.

While she freshens up, I stack wood into the woodstove and light a fire. Then I return to the kitchen and start to wash our dishes.

When she emerges a few moments later, she’s in nothing but my shirt.

She walks over to the counter to grab the open bottle of wine to refill her glass, brushing against my side.

“I’ll be on the couch,” she says, her voice low.

I finish quickly, deciding to just leave the dishes to soak until morning. I find her curled up with her knees tucked under her, wineglass dangling from her hand.

I sit beside her, arm across the back of the couch, and she leans into me without hesitation. My fingers drift into her hair, slow and unhurried.

She tilts her head to look at me. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for wearing this shirt,” I say as I finger the hem that rests high on her bare thigh.

Her smile is soft. “It was starting to lose your scent. I was hoping you’d rub yourself on me and recharge it.”

Fuck me.

I plunge my hands into her hair and yank her head back so I can crush my mouth to hers.