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15

May

I ’d just like to point out that things have escalated quickly. Between McKenna and Griffin, that is. Well, amongst others as well, perhaps. But I’m not ready to go there yet.

Tonight is the night of Kenna and Griff’s joint bachelor and bachelorette party. Yes, they’ve only been engaged for a month. Yes, their wedding is only a month away. And yes, they are the absolute cutest couple I’ve ever met.

“Tell me, what is your go-to karaoke song?” McKenna asks me as she curls her blonde, waist-length locks into the most stunning waves.

“Probably ‘Wide Open Spaces’ by The Chicks,” I decide.

“The Chicks!” she exclaims. “Oh my gosh, I love them so much. We grew up listening to them every summer at our cabin with our mom.”

“My mama used to play the best 90s country music in our house when I was growing up. The Chicks, Shania, Martina, Garth, Trisha, Faith and Tim. We’d clean the house, and she’d damn near blast the speakers on our stereo while we were doing chores.” My chest squeezes with the same ache I get any time I think of home and my mama. Now that Aaron and I are officially divorced, I question why exactly I haven’t moved back to Texas yet. Something keeps a hold of me here. Perhaps not something, but a few someones.

Kenna sets down her curling iron, walks over to me, and gives me a big hug. “I feel like we’re celebrating so much more than just my engagement tonight,” she says as she steps back. “We’re celebrating your freedom as a newly single woman. And we’re definitely celebrating the fact that you decided you’re going to write a fricken book.”

“McKenna!” I squeal, looking around the room to make sure no one else overheard. “I told you that in confidence. No one else on this earth knows I’m an aspiring author.”

“I’m not sure why. It’s completely badass. I can’t wait to read it!”

“Look, I know how much you and I love to read. But the only reason I told you that was to make sure you were okay with me typing away on my computer while Cadence is napping or sleeping. I’m not ready for anyone else to know just yet.”

“What about my brother?” she asks.

“What about your brother?” I mimic her question as I apply a coat of mascara to my lashes.

“Well, there’s the fact that the two of you live together. He will most likely see you working your fingers to the bone as you write your book. And then there’s also the fact that I thought the two of you were getting close.” At that, I whip my head around to look at her. She has her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

Shit. Am I really that obvious?

“Define close,” I say nonchalantly.

“Perhaps closer than you’re ready to admit to me right now. Close enough that I noticed he has leaned on you more than me lately.” She pauses before adding, “Look, Dakota, I don’t know exactly what is happening between you and Carse, but I do know my brother. I’ve never seen him so enamored with a woman as he has been with you since meeting you at your interview. I also know my brother is a sweetheart with a heart the size of your home state. So, please, just make sure you’re ready for whatever is happening between the two of you. I don’t think I could take seeing Carson heartbroken.”

It takes everything in me not to say again . This man has been heartbroken since the day of McKenna and Katie’s accident, though he’s never admitted that to me. And the accident with Cadence likely deepened the break.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable discussing my feelings for Carson with his sister when I don’t even know how I truly feel, I tell her, “I care deeply for Carson. We became closer friends quickly after I moved in with him. He is someone I feel like I can open up to and be vulnerable with. I’ll probably tell him about my book soon. But as far as a relationship goes, I just feel like he and I are too different, not to mention the age gap between us.”

“I don’t think you’re that different from one another. You both sound ambitious in your pursuit of what makes you happy. His passion is hockey. Yours is writing. And you both are terrible singers, which we’re about to see on full display tonight,” she teases. “I’ll leave it alone until you’re ready to talk about it. But, please, don’t let the stigma of an age gap keep you from happiness. I know I’m biased, but my twin is a pretty fucking great guy.”

I smile at that because Carson Wilder is the best of the best. But as much as it pains me to say it, I just don’t think he and I would work. The last thing any golden boy needs is a tarnished divorcée cougar.

Carson

We’re at one of my favorite bars of all time, The Watering Hole. It’s a hole-in-the-wall place on Lake Mille Lacs—the same lake my family’s cabin is on, and also Griff and Mack’s new cabin next door.

We decided to throw their joint bachelor and bachelorette parties up here between the two houses. It’s Memorial Day weekend, so it’s pretty packed on the lake, but it also means The Watering Hole is having its annual karaoke contest. This weekend came together a little last minute since we weren’t sure if we’d still be in the playoffs or not. Unfortunately, we lost out in four games to Colorado.

Tonight is the first of the three-night celebration. Jackson, being the party planner he is, helped me plan the ultimate weekend for Mack and Griff. Each night has a theme. Tonight is reverse cowgirl—Jax’s idea, not mine—where everyone dresses up as cowboys and cowgirls. Night two is golf pros and tennis hoes—again, Jax’s idea—where the guys stay dressed in their golf attire, and the girls dress up in tennis skirts. Night three is the blackout, where everyone dresses in black except for the future Mr. and Mrs., who will be in white.

The ladies were finishing up a drinking game at the cabin, so they told us guys to go ahead and get a few tables for the group. Following the theme of the night, we’re all dressed in cowboy hats, boots, and a variety of outfits. Griff went full-blown Garth on us with his black cowboy hat, black cowboy boots, black button-up, and dark jeans. Jax is feeling right at home with tonight’s theme, as he typically dresses in a midwest country boy wardrobe. He’s got on a camo button-up with his light brown cowboy hat. I opted for a tan cowboy hat with the tightest bootcut light-wash jeans I could find, an obnoxiously big belt buckle that says “Ladies, my eyes are up here,” a plain white T-shirt, and cowboy boots that Dakota helped me pick out.

Then we’ve got Bennett, the serious and stoic captain of the team, who also happened to be the loser of our fantasy football league this year and who is long overdue for his punishment. Because of this, we decided that we’d each get to pick out his outfits for the weekend. Tonight’s outfit is brought to you by Jax—Bennett has a straw cowboy hat, a cutoff flannel shirt that also looks like it may be a cropped top, and a pair of cutoff jean shorts that are practically glued to his thick hockey thighs and show off his crocodile cowboy boots. I just about spit my beer out when I saw him walk down the steps at the cabin. Needing the liquid courage to get through the night in the ridiculous outfit his little brother picked out for him, Bennett pre-gamed heavily back at the cabin and is now owning the outfit. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him tipsy.

We’ve just ordered a round of whiskey for the guys when the bar’s emcee for the night announces they’ll be starting karaoke soon.

“Will you be singing ‘Should’ve Been a Cowboy’ tonight?” Griff asks me. When I send him a questioning look, he breaks out in a fit of laughter. “You know, because you’ve got heart eyes for the nanny from Texas.”

Before I can attempt to deny it, a roar of catcalls and wolf whistles break out over the bar as a group of women enter the front door. I see Mack dressed in a white minidress with coordinating white cowgirl boots and a matching white cowgirl hat with a short veil spilling out the back. She’s got a white sash that says bride-to-be on it and a blinding smile that lights up her face. She looks so fucking happy, and I love that for her.

Behind her are her teammates, Brooke and Alexa, but I don’t immediately see Dakota. That is, until it feels like the world stands still, and the door opens in slow motion as my Texan dream girl walks in.

I hear a low whistle beside me as Jax says, “Well, well, well. It turns out the nanny-turned-roommate didn’t fuck around with tonight’s theme.”

He’s not lying. She’s wearing a jean miniskirt that should be illegal with how sexy it makes her legs look, a cropped hot pink shirt that says “Kenna’s last hoe down” showing off the most delicious peek of her tanned and toned stomach, a black cowgirl hat, and knee-high rhinestone cowgirl boots.

Holy fuck. She looks absolutely amazing. And she’s making her way toward the bartop tables I’m sitting at.

Dakota freezes in place when she spots me, not even bothering to hide her blatant ogling as she takes me in. I ogle her right back because, honestly, how could I not?

I grab my glass of whiskey and slowly walk toward her like a predator stalking its prey.

“My god, Austen. Look at you. You’re absolutely devastating in a cowgirl hat and boots.”

A shy smile spreads across her lips. She looks up at me through dark lashes, and the second her emerald eyes meet mine, I’m a goner. “You don’t look so bad yourself, purty boy. Shoulda known you’d be a cowboy who thinks it’s a good idea to wear white. You wouldn’t last a day on my family’s ranch.”

“Oh, and I take it you typically wear those rhinestone cowgirl boots on the ranch?” I taunt.

“My mama would pitch a hissy fit if she saw me wearing these boots while riding Buttercup.”

“Ah, Buttercup is your horse back home, right? Isn’t she an apple-something?”

That makes her chuckle. “Yep. She’s the sweet girl that makes me homesick whenever I think of her. And she’s an Appaloosa.”

“Well, if I weren’t deathly afraid of horses, I’d offer to be your riding partner when you eventually take me home to meet your family. But seeing as I’d like to make a good impression, I should probably steer clear of the horse barn.”

That makes her eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. I never asked you to come home to meet my mama. Besides, I know this is just another ploy to get closer to my brother. You’re unrelenting.”

“I’ve let up quite a bit since he somehow got my number and FaceTime-interviewed me to make sure I wasn’t, and I quote, ‘a serial killer forcing his baby sister to live with him.’ Jolene loves me already after only chatting with me on a few of your calls, and that just kills you, doesn’t it?” The smirk that takes over my face is cocky as hell.

“Well, you’d make quite the first impression with them if you dressed like that.” Dakota gestures toward my belt buckle. “Did you choose the most obnoxious belt buckle you could find?”

“Oh, you know it. It was either this or the assless chaps, but I thought I should save those to live out one of your personal fantasies together someday.”

“Bless your heart, Golden Boy.”

“You did not just ‘bless your heart’ me.” I mock-gasp and grab my chest as if I’m appalled.

“I absolutely did. Now, will you be a good boy and buy me a drink?”

I’ll do anything she asks if she’s calling me a good boy. A new kink has officially been unlocked.

“Sure thing. What can I get for ya, darlin’?” I ask with a tip of my cowboy hat.

“I’ll take a margarita on the rocks, please, and thank you,” she singsongs, clearly already a bit tipsy from the girls’ drinking games.

I’ve barely placed the drink in Dakota’s hand when my sister hooks arms with her and says they need to go dance.

Meanwhile, I’m frozen in place at the bar, completely captivated by Dakota’s hips as they twist side to side in her little jean skirt. She’s teaching the girls a line dance. And when Mack pulls out the classic sprinkler dance move, I watch Dakota hold on to her hat with one arm and tip her head back in laughter.

Goddamn. She’s so fucking pretty when she’s comfortable and secure enough to be carefree. I love getting to see her this way.

“Oh, fuck. Is Bennett actually hitting on her?” Griff asks, nudging my shoulder with his and pointing his glass of whiskey toward the end of the bar where Bennett is standing next to a woman with long, auburn hair.

“No way. Not my big brother. I mean, he’s not celibate, at least I don’t think he is at the moment—though, I wouldn’t put it past him as punishment for losing in the first round of playoffs—but he hasn’t sought out a girl ever . They come to him, and on the rare occasion he deems them worthy of his time, he doesn’t have to do or say much to seal the deal,” Jax clarifies, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It looks like our Benny boy is not only hitting on this girl, but did I just see that stoic motherfucker laugh?” Griff questions, raising his eyebrows.

“Holy shit. He did. He didn’t just chuckle. He fucking cackled at whatever she just said,” I point out, nearly spitting out my drink.

“Carse, go see if he’s hitting on her. Ten bucks says he gets shot down wearing that outfit. No way is anyone going to take him seriously.” Jax beams manically.

“Deal,” I say, wandering over to the other side of the bar, where Bennett is talking to and most definitely hitting on a girl who looks to be about my age.

“Come find me later, Benny,” the girl waves as she walks toward the front of the stage, where a group of her friends are waiting.

“Wilder, get your ass over here,” Bennett commands, and I immediately do as I’m told. When Bennett asks, no, tells me what he plans for us to do, I can’t hold back my grin. We split ways as he goes up toward the stage to complete his mission.

I practically run back to the bar to give the guys an update. “Shut the fuck up. You’ll never believe what Bennett just asked me to do.”

“What?” Jax and Griff ask at the same time as they turn toward me.

“Bennett fucking Wilson just asked if I would join him up on stage to sing the girl he’s been hitting on all night’s favorite song.”

“Fuck, I think our boy is smitten,” Griff beams.

“What song?” Jax asks, wearing an expression I can’t quite discern.

Before I can answer, I see Bennett nod toward the stage as the emcee calls our names, signaling that it’s our turn. The starting notes of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” sound through the speakers.

Making my way up on stage, I don’t miss the cocky smile and wink Bennett shoots toward the redhead he was talking to only moments ago. She shakes her head at his antics before raising her glass to salute him.

He brings the mic up to his mouth, and my jaw hangs open when he starts singing the song’s opening lines. Bennett Wilson can actually sing. I always thought Jax was the only musically inclined sibling in their family, but I’ll be damned.

I look out into the crowd, and it looks like I’m not the only one impressed by his voice. The little redhead is staring up at him with fucking stars in her eyes.

Knowing I can’t hold a tune, especially in comparison to the Wilson brothers, I mouth to Bennett that he’s got this. I stay on stage, mostly for moral support and backup singing, but I leave the lead vocals to “Benny,” as the redhead called him.

Once the song is over, I decide to take a page from Bennett’s book and serenade the girl I’ve been pining over for far too long. I write my karaoke selection on the sign-up sheet and wait my turn to be called back to the stage.

Two songs later, the emcee calls for Golden Boy as the opening notes of “Sparks Fly (Taylor’s Version)” float through the bar.

I don’t even bother to take my eyes off Dakota as I serenade her with some of the queen’s best lyrics. The chorus of this song makes me think of my green-eyed dream girl every time I hear it. When the second verse starts, I throw a wink at her once the third line leaves my lips. As the bridge hits, I point to Dakota, causing her hands to cover her reddening cheeks.

I love it when my dream girl is bashful. But I love it even more when after the song is done, she damn near jumps into my arms and whisper-shouts, “That was ah-mazing! But terrible at the same time. You can’t sing for shit, Golden Boy.”

My heart races in my chest each time I get to have her in my arms like this. With her body pressed against mine, I feel invincible.

Dakota Meyer doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the woman of my dreams. I can’t wait to prove her wrong when it comes to the differences she thinks exist between us. There may be obstacles we have to overcome, but I’m confident that with her by my side, we can get through anything.

Last call and last song were just announced. It doesn’t take more than two bars of “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips for Griff, Jax, Bennett, and me to go nuts. This was our pregame song in the varsity hockey locker room when we all played together.

“Fuck yeah!” I shout as I grab Jax around the neck and throw my arm around Griff.

“Honestly, when this song comes on, I could kick a steel door off its hinges,” Jax yells.

“Let’s go boys! It’s our little G-Baby’s last hoorah before he becomes a married man,” Bennett slurs as he closes us into a circle, he is definitely feeling the shots he downed to get through this night.

Griff throwing his head back to scream-sing the lyrics gets me in my feels. When the chorus starts, the four of us jump in the air and join Griff in screaming the lyrics. I’m so fucking excited for G to join the three of us on the ice in the same jersey next season. But I’m even happier that he’s going to officially become my brother in a few weeks.

We’re all feeling good by this point in the night, the ladies included. I break from our bro circle in the middle of the dance floor in search of my dream girl.

Dakota is holding her phone in the air like it’s a microphone with her other hand on the top of her cowgirl hat to keep it from falling off. She looks so effortlessly sexy and in her element like this—stomping her boots and swaying her hips to the music.

I’ve got to be the most luststruck fucker in this bar.

Walking over to her, I bend down and brush back her hair behind her ear before leaning in so she can hear me over the music. “After seeing you dressed like this, I think I want to quit hockey and become a cattle rancher in Texas. What do you say—will you take me home, Austen?”

She doesn’t say anything as she turns around and wraps her arms around my neck. “You might look the part right now, but I’m afraid all the dirt and dust will dull your shine, Golden Boy.” Dakota bites down on her tempting bottom lip and I damn near beg her to let me have a taste. “Besides, you were meant to be out on the ice, living your best biscuit life.”

Throwing my head back laughing, I just shake my head when I’m finally able to rein it in. “You’re one of a kind, Dream Girl.”

“What did you just call me?” She stops dancing and her face sobers as she searches my eyes.

I duck my head back down to her ear so she can hear me better. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what you do to me. You’ve had me completely off-kilter for almost a year, and you’re right, I balance on tiny blades for a living, so that’s saying something.”

“Oh,” she breathes.

“Cat got your tongue, Kota Lynn?”

Good. Maybe she’s finally coming around to what I’ve known all along. I’ll continue to be patient with her, but progress is progress, and fuck does it feel good to see her affected by me even slightly.

“Please do not call me what my brother and Mama call me. It’s weird.” Her face scrunches up in the most adorable way.

I smirk in response, shaking my head. “My bad, Austen. Won’t happen again.”

“There, much better. I like when you call me that, even if I still don’t understand why you call me the wrong city. Maybe you should take to callin’ me Dallas.” Her suggestion ends on a hiccup.

“I’d let you in on my little secret, but I’m afraid you’re too tipsy to remember tomorrow. The time is coming for me to spill it all soon though.” I bite my cheek when I realize what I’ve just said.

Keeping eye contact with me, she tips her hat at me before saying, “I sure hope so, cowboy.” She chuckles, throwing a wink my way then pats my chest before walking backward toward the girls.

It’s after two in the morning when Dakota and I stumble through the front door of the cabin.

“I’ve got a secret, but I can’t tell you,” Dakota taunts as she skips toward the steps.

“Am I going to be an uncle again?” I guess. I’d fucking love for Griff and Mack to have more kids when they’re ready. But seeing as I don’t think the drinks Mack was drinking tonight were virgin, I will take a guess and say that’s not her secret.

She stops as she hits the first step to go upstairs and turns around. “Not that I’m aware of. It isn’t a secret about nobody but little old me.” Dakota points to herself, bopping her nose and hiccuping simultaneously. “I think I’m a wee bit tipsy, my lord.”

Fuck. I don’t know what it is about her calling me that, but it gets my dick going from zero to sixty in two point two seconds.

“Does my lady need help turning in for the night? If so, me thinks she may spill her deepest, darkest secrets to me.”

“I may have big lips, but they are sealed on this matter.”

Those lips. I’ve told myself countless times that I won’t have her lips until she’s fully ready for me without any hesitation. I thought we were making good progress on that, but then I overheard Dakota and Mack talking when they were getting ready earlier tonight. She thinks the age gap between us will cause bad publicity. But I don’t give a fuck about my image.

“Will you come with me for a minute? I want to show you something. I promise I’ll get you tucked in in a little bit.”

She cocks a brow in suspicion. “Where are you taking me, cowboy?”

That earns her a smile. “Some place that’s special to me. A place I think you’ll like too.”

With that, she takes the few steps back down the stairs and grasps my outstretched hand, lacing her fingers in mine. “Show me,” she whispers.

I’d show her the entire fucking world if she’d let me. But I’ll start with one of my favorite places for now.

The path to the boathouse is lit by solar-powered lanterns. Keeping Dakota’s hand in mine, I lead her down the stone steps and pathway until we’re standing outside the two story boathouse.

I key in the code to enter before nodding toward the steps to let Dakota know we’re headed up there. On the second level is a small guest suite that has a full wall of windows overlooking the lake that butts up to the A-frame glass roof. This may just be the best place to stargaze in the entire world. And it also serves as one of the best spots to watch the sun set over the lake.

When we get to the top of the steps and I open the door to the suite, Dakota gasps as she takes in the glass paneling along the west-facing wall and ceiling. “Carson. This is so beautiful.”

My mom renovated and decorated this space to be my personal oasis.

“When my parents inherited this cabin from my grandparents, they did a pretty big remodel of the whole house and this boathouse as well. My mom and dad decided Mack and I should each have a space of our own for when we come here. Sure we each have rooms upstairs in the main cabin, but Mack got to choose what to do with the space over the garage, and I got to choose what to do in here.”

Dakota runs her fingers over the charcoal gray king-size bedding before falling onto her back to take in the view of the clear night sky.

“I love this space so much.”

“Does it put you in the mood to share secrets?” I query.

“I don’t know. The bed is feeling too cold and lonely for me to share my secrets. Maybe if I could use you as my own personal heater then I’d spill the beans.”

That earns her a laugh from me as I make my way over to the bed. I crawl in beside her and slip my arm under the crook of her neck. Pulling her against my chest, I say, “I’ll go first. I’ve been keeping a secret from you, Austen.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the secret?”

“I’ve had a slight crush on you since the day I met you. But after Mack broke the news to me that you were married, I told myself that we could only be friends.”

“I’m not sure that was exactly a secret. Even if Mack didn’t share that tidbit with me earlier, I think I’ve seen the writing on the wall. But you were right, we are friends. You’ve quickly become one of my best friends, Carson.”

My stomach does a weird fluttering and sinking feeling at the same time. Pushing aside my apprehension from her admission I heard earlier with my sister, I say, “Is that so? Do best friends typically share secrets with each other?”

She nods her head against my chest. “They do.” She pauses to inhale deeply, burying her head in the crook of my neck. It tickles when she exhales, and the scent of the tequila she drank floods my senses. “I’m thinking of doing something I’ve always dreamed of since I was a little kid.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat, Austen. What is it? You can tell me anything, and I’d support the hell out of you.” I give her shoulder three gentle squeezes, silently urging her to continue.

“Well, I’d like to put my degree to use. I’m writing a novel. Perhaps even a series if I can get through the first one.” When the admission slips from her lips, she covers her mouth as if she can’t believe she spilled her secret to me.

Rolling her onto her back, I push myself up on my elbow and stare into her ensnaring emerald eyes. “That’s fucking amazing. When did you decide to do this?”

“Yeah? Don’t you think it’s weird I’m chasing a dream with no fallback plan? Without a safety net?” Her brow furrows, and she bites her bottom lip as she awaits my answer.

“Yeah, it’s fucking amazing. And you won’t need a backup plan. Do you want to know why? Because you’re destined for greatness, Dakota. I can’t wait to read it when it’s ready.”

“What? You can’t read it! I think I’d die of embarrassment.” She tries to hide her face in the crook of my elbow, but I pull her chin up so she has no choice but to see the sincerity on my face.

“The words you write to me each and every day without pause have slowly begun healing me and my anxious thoughts. You’re damn right I’m going to read your whole-ass novel. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” I punctuate my statement with a long kiss on her forehead. I breathe her in before rolling us over onto my back and resting her head against my chest again.

I’m the most fortunate man in the world because this woman chose me to divulge her deepest hopes and desires to. I only wish that I could convince her—prove to her—that I can be the man by her side, being her biggest cheerleader, as she achieves her aspirations.