Page 26 of Broncos and Ballads (Healing Springs Ranch #2)

Brock raced along the wooded path with Venus riding him piggyback style, her laughter ringing out in the quiet of the forest.

His heart thrummed with a thousand emotions. He’d never felt this way about any other woman. The fear of choosing the wrong woman still nagged at him, but after spending another day with Venus, the worries were growing quieter and the love for her louder.

Did that mean she was the special woman he’d given up hope of finding?

“Faster, Brock!” she called through her laughter.

The late-afternoon sunshine filtered through the branches overhead, casting slanted light over them. The coolness of the woods and the slight breeze kept them from getting too hot on the sunny September day.

He halted abruptly, loving the feel of her body wrapped around him. It brought back the heat that had lain dormant since earlier in the day when they’d been in the kitchen and she’d pinned him in a hold with her legs and arms to keep him from reaching his phone.

Course, he’d let her do it. He could’ve gotten his phone if he’d wanted to.

But Dad had always let Mom win anytime they played together.

Sure, Dad had made her struggle, but in the end, he gave in and let her have her way in whatever she wanted.

Brock had always loved that about Dad, the teasing that led to surrender and sweetness and never to antagonism.

“Why did you stop?” Venus bent in, her mouth near his ear.

At the breathiness of her voice, all he wanted to do was stand there, hold her, and let her nuzzle his ear.

“Am I wearing you out?” she asked.

Did he dare tell her the truth, that she was like the sun to him?

Her rays were sometimes gentle and soft, sifting through the leaves.

Sometimes the heat was intense and direct and burned him up.

Either way, his whole world was beginning to revolve around her, and he wasn’t sure he could break the gravitational pull now that he was in her orbit.

He wanted to stop and type up his thoughts—more new lyrics—but he refrained since today wasn’t about writing music.

“Turn to the side just a little, Brock!” Tia called from down the trail where she and Ethan were stationed.

Ethan’s camera had been a permanent fixture on his face. Brock had expected the Rolling Stone photographer to snap a fair share of pictures, but the guy had probably taken several thousand.

Course, Venus had been a good sport about it. She was used to posing and had done a fabulous job of giving Rolling Stone some excellent pictures.

Throughout it all, Brock had been determined to make the day as fun as possible for Venus. From the ropes course to the horseback ride to the archery range to the hot spring—he’d wanted her to forget about everything and just enjoy herself.

For the most part, they’d done their best to ignore Tia and Ethan—which was what Tia had wanted anyway so the photos could capture them as naturally as possible. But sometimes—like now—there was no avoiding the fact that their every move was being scrutinized.

“Angle a little more,” Tia called.

Brock turned so that Ethan could see more of Venus.

“That’s perfect.” Tia leaned in and spoke with Ethan, nodded her head, spoke to the photographer again, then nodded some more.

“I say we finish these last pictures and call it a day,” Venus suggested. “We’ve given them plenty to work with.”

“You got that right, darlin’.” Brock began to lower her.

“Hold on!” Tia called.

“We’re done.” Brock made sure Venus was securely on the ground before releasing his hold on her.

After they’d sat in the hot spring and sipped iced coffee, Venus had changed into a light-green sundress with spaghetti straps that showed off her elegant shoulders.

She’d been beautiful all day, and it hadn’t mattered what she’d worn, but at the moment, with the splashes of sunlight upon her, she looked especially pretty, her long hair tied up, her cheeks flushed, and her blue eyes bright.

Tia and Ethan started up the path toward them.

Venus straightened the collar of the blue polo shirt that Brock had paired with khaki shorts. As she did so, she smiled up at him. “I messed you up.”

“I don’t mind, darlin’. As long as you’re around to fix me, that’s all that matters.”

She pushed him lightly. “I’d say you’re flattering me, but I know you mean it.”

“Course I do.”

“Sometimes”—she lowered her voice—“in all the pretending, it’s hard to know what’s real anymore and what’s just part of the show.”

He tossed a glance toward Tia, who was almost upon them. “It’s not a show for me.”

Venus studied his face, her expression growing more solemn.

In the next instant, Tia was upon them. “We were hoping we could get a set of pictures of you with your guitar. Maybe sitting on the deck at your family’s house. Or even sitting on one of those old wooden fences that are still up in certain places.”

Brock shook his head. “Think we’re tuckered out and ready to be done.”

“Tuckered out?” Venus poked him in the ribs.

“Tuckered.” He poked her back. “What, don’t you like my word choice?”

“You sound like a country bumpkin.”

“Country bumpkin?” He tickled her again. “How about a cowboy?”

“Is redneck better?”

“Nope.”

She tried to wiggle out from underneath his fingers, but he was quicker and held on to her and kept tickling.

Within seconds, she was laughing and falling into his arms, and he was there for it, ready to catch and hold her. He realized he was probably smiling every bit like a country bumpkin, but he didn’t care.

“You know what shot we haven’t got of the two of you today?” Tia was standing back with Ethan as he snapped the camera at them during their entire exchange. “We haven’t got any pictures of the two of you kissing.”

Against him, Venus stiffened. That was his answer to Tia’s underhanded suggestion to kiss. They weren’t doing it. Not if it made Venus uncomfortable. “Sorry, guys. That’s where I’m drawing the line. Some things need to stay private, and that’s one of them.”

“There haven’t been any recent pictures of the two of you kissing, have there?” Tia asked to no one specifically.

“No, and we don’t need any,” Brock responded quickly. “We’ve got plenty of other great pictures today.”

Tia shrugged. They’d given her the basics about their relationship throughout the day whenever she stopped to ask them questions about how they’d met, first impressions, how long they’d known each other, when they’d started getting serious, and what they liked about each other.

Most of the questions had been easy to answer with the truth.

After all, they’d been friends for a long time through Reed and had always enjoyed hanging out together.

Tia had also taken some time to interview a few others in the family when they’d been at the house. Brock figured her prying wasn’t anything to get worked up about since his family didn’t know a whole lot about his dating history other than what was already out there on the internet.

Brock started to step away from Venus, to put some distance between them before he gave in and kissed her the way he’d been wanting to for days. Instead of letting him retreat, she slipped her arm through his. “I don’t mind if they want to get a picture of us kissing.”

The moment she spoke the words, she ducked her head and bit her lip, almost as if she was embarrassed to admit she wouldn’t mind kissing him.

Well, shoot. If taking a picture would grant him access, maybe he oughta go for it.

He slowly shifted around so that he was facing her directly. He settled both hands on her waist. Then he waited patiently—or at least tried to—for her to look up at him.

As she lifted her face and met his gaze, her expression softened, and her eyes were innocent and sweet and filled with hope, like a girl who was about to experience her first kiss.

Maybe he hadn’t been her first kiss, but he could be her last—the last and only man who ever kissed her again.

He brought up a hand to her cheek and skimmed the elegant slant.

She leaned her head into his touch, her long lashes fanning out and making her eyes more luminous.

His heart tapped out a new rhythm, the melody for a new song.

Not only was she his inspiration for the words he’d been writing, but she was also the inspiration for the music.

Her presence went deep into his blood so that the very essence of her was pumping through him.

His every breath, every heartbeat, every movement, was about her, stirring in him more love.

Even in this moment, she was everything. He wasn’t sure when or where or how this consuming feeling had developed. But all day it had been building so that he was almost crazy with his need for her.

Was this what all the other McQuaid men had felt for the women they’d fallen in love with? Was this the passionate legacy of love that had been handed down to him?

Although they were kissing for an audience and for the article in Rolling Stone , he suddenly wanted Venus to know he wasn’t pretending anymore, maybe never had been.

He needed her to know that what was happening between them was real—the realest he’d ever been in his life.

In fact, in some ways it felt like he’d been dreaming all these years and had woken up when she’d come along.

He’d just birthed another song with that thought, but with her beautiful eyes watching him expectantly, he wanted to be the one to initiate the kiss this time and to let her know through the kiss what he was feeling—or at least a portion of it, because he suspected it would take a lifetime and beyond to express everything he was feeling for her.

He brushed his fingers along her jaw, then along her chin. Every single part of her face was exquisite, and he could go on tracing each line and curve all day. But Tia and Ethan were waiting to get a kissing photo, and that’s what he would give them—the world’s best kiss.