Page 17 of Wild and Unruly (Three Rivers Trevors Ranch #3)

“No rules?” I let him pull me closer, and I shake my head, my heart racing in my chest. “I’ve never not had rules when it comes to dating.”

“We don’t need rules, Bo.” His calloused hand wraps around the back of my neck, resting comfortably there, and I feel my limbs slowly melt into him. “We can do whatever we want.”

I close my eyes and let out a deep sigh, allowing myself for a moment to just be there and not worry about anything. I’ve never felt like I could do this with anyone before. I’m completely putting my trust and faith into Stetson .

That was a terrifying thought.

Lips touch mine gently, so soft I almost think I imagined it, and I blink open my eyes. “Tell me what happened.” The whispered words bring me back to reality.

I eye his light-brown hair that was free from a hat tonight and let my hand reach up into the strands for a moment.

Finally, I say, “It’s not anything new.” Shaking my head, I take a step back, and he releases all but my hand, walking beside me again.

“My brother has had mood swings since his accident. Well, no.” I frown in thought.

“They’re not really mood swings, more like he stays high on the grumpy side of things all the time.

I can’t blame him, but sometimes he takes it out on the people around him.

Like my mom, his boss, or coworkers. Me, when I’m around. ”

Stetson stays quiet, and I continue. “I have to believe that someday will be better, that something good will come for him. But I think and fear that he doesn’t feel the same way. That he’s just given up hope.”

“You offered to bring him to the ranch?”

I sigh at the question, thinking of that conversation. “He won’t come. He wants nothing to do with horses. Blames them on what happened to him.”

“I suppose he’s not wrong.”

I open my mouth to say the opposite. That he is wrong. That the Smiths are the ones in the wrong, that they messed with my brother’s horse, and that’s why he freaked. But…that would open up a conversation I wasn’t ready to have yet. I need more proof. I need more time to gather said proof.

“I just wish he’d do something to get his head on straight again,” I say instead, not really wanting to continue this conversation about Mason and what he should be doing, not after the way he lashed out this week. It was emotionally draining.

“Did you guys fight?”

“More like he yelled, and I just let him,” I say, turning to give Stetson a sad smile and shrugging.

“What am I supposed to say? That he’s acting like a fool for letting his life slip by and not fighting for a better one?

That he needs to quit the pity party and live his life?

I don’t know what he’s been through, Stetson. ”

We’re quiet as we walk for several minutes, my truck settled in the lot far behind us, but I don’t think either of us cares.

“You do know what he’s been through, though, Bonnie,” Stetson says after a moment, surprising me. “You went through it too. You had to give up your life when he got injured. You lost your dad. Your mom basically lost her own life to take care of him. He’s not the only victim.”

I shake my head, stopping on the sidewalk to face him. “He lost the most.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Stetson shrugs, probably anticipating that I was going to feel defensive over my brother. “If he’s not working toward a better life, if he’s just sitting there, allowing failure to be the only option, then it’s his fault for the life he has. He doesn’t get to blame you.”

Tears swell in my eyes, and I turn my face away, wiping discreetly at my cheek. “I should head back.”

I take a step, and Stetson reaches out, grasping my hand in his and pulling me back.

His eyebrows furrow, and he takes in the look on my face.

Concern and something else flash across his features.

“I’m not trying to upset you, Bo. I just feel…

” He pauses, looking to the side, and I watch his jaw tighten.

He turns back to look at me, his eyes glowing with emotion.

“I feel protective of you. I don’t like you getting hurt. ”

I shrug with a sad smile. “Truth hurts.”

He watches me for a moment as if contemplating his next words. His mouth opens and shuts a few times before he decides against whatever is on his mind, and he pulls me close, tucking me under his arm and kissing me.

I let my thoughts drift away and put my focus and attention on him.

On us. I just want to focus on this alone.

I don’t want to think about work, or the article, or whatever awaits me in Kentucky.

I don’t want to think about Tommy Smith or my brother or the drama that is sure to unfold there when I decide to take Tommy down.

I want to think about his hands on my arms, on how they roam lower and around my stomach, on how his tongue reaches out to part my lips, on how my gasp is swallowed up by his mouth, and how my bones feel as if they’re melting, and I have to rely on him to stay upright.

My hands grip his shoulders, my feet moving closer to him as he kisses me until there’s no air left to breathe.

I’m about ready to find a building to lean against when he pulls away from me, pressing firm kisses to my lips every few seconds as if it’s helping him come down from the high we just built together.

“I really want to keep being with you tonight,” he says against my mouth, and I open it to reply. “But I’m going to walk you to your truck now.”