Page 14 of Stirring Spurs (Rainbow Ranch #1)

BOONE

Ever since the first day he arrived, I’ve thought about bringing Wylie to my secret spot. The moment he glanced at me with those big brown eyes, lingering a second longer than I expected, I knew, when the time was right, we’d end up here. Under the big Oklahoma sky.

Rainbow Ranch is almost an hour from the closest town, and that’s barely got forty thousand people. We don’t create much light pollution out here, and on a clear night the sky can take your breath away. That’s my hope for tonight—to steal a little of Mr. Anderson’s breath.

Over the years, a few folks have referred to me as the cookie—but no one’s ever used it instead of my name. Something’s shifting between Wylie and me, and bringing him out here might just make it clear.

Once I’m round the back of the truck to lower the tailgate, I hear the passenger door close, and Wylie joins me.

He’s wearing a black shirt that almost disappears in the night.

In the starlight, I can just make out his skin where it pokes through, thick arms where he’s rolled it up past his elbows.

His neck taunts me where he’s left the top two buttons open.

Even at night, he’s got his hat on. A true cowboy, through and through.

“Let me,” he says, moving to the bed. “You loaded. I insist.”

“Nope.” I climb up and move the cooler and tub toward the tailgate. “We’re not unloading. Staying right here.” I pat the side of the cab.

Wylie hops up, standing near the back, like a kid dragged to the doctor against his will.

“No better view for stargazing,” I say.

I unfurl the first blanket into the cargo area. It’s an extra I grabbed from the barn and has a few rogue pieces of hay stuck to it.

“Now this one,” I say, pulling the quilt from a clean duffel, “Ma quilted this when we were kids. She took all four of us to the store in town and let each of us pick a fabric. It’s become our family quilt—a little piece of each of us stitched into every square.”

Smoothing out the edges, I point to the fabric I chose when Beau and I were barely nine.

The print’s faded now, but you can still make out the pattern—a collection of bright, hand-painted images of kitchen tools and ingredients.

There’s a rolling pin, a stack of flour sacks, sprigs of rosemary, and a wooden spoon.

The colors are warm, like the sun-drenched afternoons we’d spend in the kitchen, rolling out dough or stirring a pot.

Every time I see that pattern, it takes me back to the hours I’d spend first watching, then helping Ma cook.

A small, woven piece of home, stitched into the quilt like a memory I can hold onto.

I kick off my boots, toss them onto the tailgate, and crawl toward the cab, the quilt padding my knees. I lean back against the cab, propping myself up on one elbow, and pat the spot next to me. “Come. Got a good view from here.”

He follows my lead, lifting a leg up and giving his boot a hard tug. His balance shifts, his other foot sliding on the exposed horse blanket, and before I can react, he’s tipping sideways.

Instinctively, I lunge toward him, my hands catching him just as he starts to lose his footing. His shoulder crashes into mine, and the force of it sends us both stumbling back. Wylie lets out a surprised grunt as we land, his torso sprawled across mine.

“Easy there, cowboy!” I try to steady us both as his weight presses into me. Wylie’s laughter bursts out, a sharp, unexpected sound in the quiet of the night. For a second, we lay there, tangled up, trying to catch our breath.

“Guess I’m not as nimble as I thought,” he says between chuckles.

As he clears his throat, a wide smile slowly forms on his face. His hands are still wrapped around my shoulders, but it’s clear he’s not going anywhere soon.

“You good?” I ask, trying to steady myself.

Wylie nods, holding on for a second longer before pulling himself up and taking a deep breath. “Yeah. Just testing my footing.” His grin doesn’t falter as he successfully removes his boots and shifts to sit beside me, a little more cautiously now.

I roll my eyes but let out a soft laugh. “You know, if you want to cuddle, you can just ask.”

He coughs next to me, and I nudge his shoulder with mine. Something about being close, touching him out here under the stars, makes my insides settle.

“Cooler’s full. Water. Tea. Threw in some of Beau’s craft beers, if that tickles your fancy.” I nod to the tub. “I know we already ate, but I made some snacks,” I add, my voice soft, like I’m trying to hide the little bit of pride that’s creeping in.

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward, his curiosity piqued. “Snacks?”

I give a small, knowing smile and reach for the tub, pulling out a couple of bundles wrapped in wax paper. As I open one, the unmistakable scent of fresh, homemade cornbread wafts up, golden and buttery. I break off a piece and hand it over, watching as Wylie takes it with a raised brow.

“Smells like heaven,” he teases, but the hint of surprise in his voice is genuine.

He takes a bite, and his expression shifts, the warmth of the cornbread softening his usual easy smirk.

“Damn,” he mutters, eyes half lidded as he chews, “This is good. What else you got?”

I pull out another bundle, this time unwrapping it to reveal a batch of salted caramel popcorn, the kind that’s just the right balance of sweet and savory.

“Since you’ve confessed to liking sweets,” I say.

The scent hits the air, and Wylie leans in almost immediately, his grin returning.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” He grabs a handful, stuffing it into his mouth with the kind of enthusiasm that only comes from a man starving for something more than just a good time. I laugh, watching the delight on his face as he munches.

The night settles around us, the quiet punctuated only by our snacking, the rustling of the corn stalks in the breeze, and my heart thumping through my shirt. I hand him a bottle of tea, watching his lips as he takes a sip.

“Maybe next time I’ll bring cake,” I say, settling against the truck’s cab, the stars above us twinkling like they’re in on the joke.

“Cake, huh?” Wylie’s voice is playful, but I’m unsure if he gets what I mean. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

We fall quiet, the snacks and drinks forgotten for a moment as we both lean back to watch the stars.

“Do you think Noodles will be ready for the rodeo?” I ask. “You know, there’s no pressure—nobody expects miracles.”

“Came awful close today,” he says, his voice low and a little amused. “After two pieces of your cake, he almost let me…”

I raise an eyebrow, the thought trailing off as I glance over at him. He shifts slightly, looking over at me with that half smile of his, like he's about to let me in on some secret.

“He did?” I ask, leaning on him a bit.

Wylie grins, tapping his hand on my thigh in a slow rhythm, clearly enjoying the suspense. “I was halfway there, just about ready to swing up on his back, but then he got that look in his eye.”

I chuckle, imagining the scene, the wild unpredictability of a horse challenging a seasoned rider like him. “What do you mean?”

Wylie shrugs, his grin widening. “He’s not ready. Yet.” He pauses, squinting into the distance, like he’s still seeing it. “But he will be. Right before I made my move, he kind of side-eyed me, and I knew. We gotta build up to it. We’re getting there. Just need some time.”

He’s talking about Noodles, I know, but a part of me thinks he might mean us, too.

“Not much time,” I say, again, referring to both.

We rest our hats on the cooler and stare up. When I spot a shooting star, I point, releasing more of my weight onto his shoulder.

“Look,” I whisper, not wanting the world to hear us.

My body lingers on his, and Wylie wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer. Usually, I’d wish upon a star, but the silent joy of this moment—just him and me beneath the countless glittering stars—feels like my wish has already come true.

“C’mere.” I’m a good two inches taller than him and probably weigh at least twenty pounds more, but he’s doing his best to tuck me into his chest.

The fresh sweet and grassy smell of the corn settles in as we watch the sky, and a part of me wishes we could stay like this forever.

“Seems you can see the whole universe.” He gazes at the sky, eyes scanning. “Thanks for bringing me out here.”

I curl into him, laying my cheek on his chest, the firm muscle soothing.

The quiet night stretches around us, and the stars twinkle overhead, but it’s the steady rhythm of Wylie’s breathing that anchors me. His warmth seeps into my skin, and for a moment, everything else fades into the background, leaving only the stars and the quiet hum of his breath.

“We should probably head back soon,” I say. “We’ve both got to be up early.”

He lets out a deep exhale, his breath hitting my hair as he wraps his other arm around me, squeezing me tight.

“Only take me a minute to clean up.”

The cooler and tub are open, and there’s a few plates and bottles in the cab.

“Before I put all this away, want anything else? ”

I sit up, and Wylie’s hands move to my shoulders. He’s staring at me, his eyes catching the light from the stars.

“Yeah.”

He moves a hand to my chin, holding me in place.

“You.”

There’s no sweet, soft kiss on the cheek this time. Wylie pulls me close, our faces near enough that the cornbread and popcorn on his breath reaches my nose.

“Happy to oblige,” I say.

He captures my lips, enveloping me in his arms and leaning back against the cab.

As my tongue tangles with his, we scoot down, so I’m on top of him.

Even though I’m bigger, he supports my weight easily, guiding me down so my entire body rests on his.

His right hand reaches for my face, brushing a thumb across my cheek, playing in my dimple.

I’ve got a hand on his chest, but he grabs the other, weaving our fingers together like plaits of bread eager to be braided.

“So damn sweet,” he says, pausing the kiss. “Like cake.”