Page 62 of Raise Me Up

As much fun as I’ve had today, though, I’m ready to take both of them home. My desire for them has shifted from want to undeniableneed, and not just in the bedroom.

I’m not sure where this path leads for us. I’m not convinced I’m the right piece to their puzzle. But the thought of stepping aside now feels like clawing open that hole in my chest I’d stupidly thought I’d healed with meaningless hook-ups.

Once we’re parked at the entrance, I shed my protective gear.

“Oh my god.” Stas laughs, stretching up to swipe her fingers over my cheeks. “You’ve got mud everywhere.”

I plant a kiss on her lips, mixing our dirt and sweat. Then I stalk after Beau and push him up against the UTV to kiss him hard.

“Take it you had a good time,” he says against my mouth.

“Mmm. Jacob watching?” I murmur, kissing him again.

Beau shoves at my chest. “You’re so bad.”

Grinning, I smear mud on his neck. “Let’s go home so I can get you dirty all over again.”

nineteen

Beau

Stasi and I leave a trail of mud behind us as we rush across the green space toward Liam’s patio. She’d parked on the side street next to his house after he’d texted us with instructions to remove our boots at the back door so he could wash them.

I can respect his cleanliness. Hell, I’d strip down naked right here if not for the neighbors living on top of him.

Note to self, I need to pay for interior detailing on both of their cars with the amount of mud we tracked home.

Kicking off my boots on the patio, I pause as I notice price tags dangling from black cushioned metal chairs and the leg of a square glass table. “Did he…buy patio furniture?”

And if so, when did he manage to haul it back here? He could have asked me for help.

For his sneakiness, I plant my muddy ass in one of the chairs. Then I make grabby hands at Stasi while she fights to untie her mud-crusted shoes. She tucks herself onto my lap so I can work on her laces.

“Tell me if I’m too much, okay? Just want you close.”

“Beau.” She curls a hand in my shirt. “Have you been told that before?”

“Hmm?”

“That you’re too much?”

I rest my chin on her shoulder after successfully removing both of her boots. “Not out loud. But I sense it from people.”

My longest relationship was with a ranch hand when I was eighteen. A pretty, freckled guy hired to help my dad for a summer.

It ended just about as fast as it started. I was out and proud. He wasn’t. Without thinking, I’d snuck a kiss from him while we were picking up supplies at the local farm supply store. He’d blown up about how I have no respect for boundaries.

Not sure much has changed, to be honest.

Still, it hurt being dumped and left there for my dad to pick up.Hey, it’s your bi son messing up again. Sorry about running off your help.

My dad didn’t even chew me out. After he picked my sorry ass up, he swung us through the drive-thru of an ice cream place and got us both Reese’s peanut butter shakes.

Now that my life has slowed down, I kind of miss the ranch. The endless stretch of wild land surrounding a generational home. The itch of tall grass brushing my skin. The scent of wildflowers and earth. The buzzing songs of crickets and June bugs.

Or maybe I just miss the calm. I never took time to slow down after my mom passed away. Just kept churning out music and hopping between stages.

Brushing my lips over Stasi’s skin, I picture her sitting on the tailgate of my old rusted truck I’d left on the property, those long legs dangling and those brown eyes a melty caramel in the Arizona sun.