Page 43 of Wild Love, Cowboy (The Portree Cowboys #1)

Grant

It’s been a shit-storm of a day, and I’ve spent most of it pretending I’m not crawling out of my skin.

After clearing a new path to the river; partly because it’s needed, mostly because it felt like something she’d want, I left Mia alone to sit with the bombshell I dropped in her lap.

I saw it on her face—the emotional war in her eyes, the want, the damn flicker of disbelief, confusion, and that stubborn fire that makes me want her more than I should.

I told her she belongs here. With me. And now, well, only time would tell if she believed it. I have no idea where we go from here, but I don’t regret a single damn word.

Still, I figured space would help. So, I saddled up and rode out to meet Mason and Ryan near the cattle pen.

We had to move the herd to the south pasture before the heat got too brutal—something we’ve done so many times it’s practically muscle memory.

But today, I’m just... going through the motions.

Mason cracks open the gate while I circle wide to push the stragglers forward.

Dust kicks up in thick clouds. A few calves bawl for their mamas as we split them off.

I’m calling commands, guiding Midnight with my knees, but I couldn’t tell you the shape of the land under me or the direction of the wind.

My body’s doing the work, but my mind’s still back at the house, replaying the way Mia looked at me when I told her she wasn’t just passing through my life, she belongs here.

She looked like she wanted to believe me.

She also looked like she might bolt.

“Grant,” Mason’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Watch the far right—he’s about to break off.”

I turn my horse quick and rein the steer back in with a sharp whistle. Mason gives me a sidelong look, the kind that says he knows exactly where my head’s at, and it ain’t with the cows.

By the time we get the herd settled and Ryan takes off to check the fence line, Mason dismounts and cracks open a bottle of water. He leans against the fence post, watching me for a beat too long.

“You’re distracted,” he says, straight to the point.

“Yeah, well. A lot goin’ on,” I mutter, wiping sweat off my brow.

“Uh-huh.” He tilts his head. “You wanna talk about it, or just keep pretending you’re not mentally down by the river with her right now?”

I huff out a laugh, bitter and dry. “Didn’t realize I was that obvious.”

“You weren’t—until you let the same calf run past you three times. Thought you were tryin’ to give him a damn cardio workout.”

I shake my head, trying to grin, but it falls flat. Instead I whip off my shirt and tuck it into my back pocket, letting the hot Texas sun burn down on my skin.

“She looked at me like I handed her a live grenade this morning,” I admit. “I told her she belongs here. That I—”

“Want her,” Mason finishes for me. “Yeah. I figured.”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, just stares out at the pasture, jaw working like he’s chewing on the words before he spits ‘em out.

“You know what I think?” he finally says. “I think you’ve spent the last few years confusing guilt with loyalty. Jake’s gone, Grant. You’re not cheating on his memory by letting yourself want something good.”

I feel the air leave my lungs in one slow, bruising exhale. “It’s not that simple.”

“No, it’s not. But it is honest. You think Mia’s the kind of woman who’d want to be with a ghost, or with a man who’s still stuck in the past? She’s here. Real. Breathing. Giving you a shot.”

I look down at my hands—dirty, calloused, worn down by years of doing the same shit just to feel something like control. The thing is, I know Mason’s right. But knowing it doesn’t make it easier.

“She’s gonna leave,” I say quietly. “She’s got a life out there. Bigger than this place.”

“Then stop making it about what she might do. What if she wants to stay?” Mason shrugs. “And if she doesn’t—at least you didn’t half-ass it.” He shakes his head and looks me dead in the eyes. “You need to let go, guilt isn’t the same as love and you’re allowed to love again brother.”

He claps a hand on my shoulder before heading off to check the salt blocks. I stay standing there for a long minute, staring down the path that cuts toward the far fields.

But I don’t follow him.

Instead, I turn my horse toward the old trail.

It’s stupid. It’s reckless. It’s her.

My mare doesn’t hesitate—just picks her way through the brush like she already knows where I’m headed. Like she’s tired of me lying to myself, too.

She heads down the trail I always avoid, it winds down toward the river and instinct has me following it today, the old paths etched into my bones like muscle memory.

Like every other time we’ve reached this fork in the path, I haven’t gone this way in years.

Not since Jake. Not since I stopped letting myself want the water.

But something’s changed. Or maybe—someone.

I hear it before I see it—the soft slap of water against stone, the faint splash echoing across the still air. And then she comes into view.

Mia.

Floating on her back in the river like she belongs there more than anywhere else in the damn world. Her arms move in lazy strokes, legs trailing behind like a mermaid. That little black swimsuit clings to her like it’s been painted on, glinting wet in the late afternoon sun.

My mouth dries out.

Fuck.

I don’t move. Hell, I don’t even breathe. I just watch.

Because this? This is the closest thing to peace I’ve seen in a long, long time. The way she’s lit up from the inside in her element, in a way that settles something in me. The way the sun halos her dark hair in gold, and the water embraces her instead of taking her like it took Jake.

She moves like the river is her home.

I grip the reins tighter. My heart’s hammering against my ribs for reasons I don’t want to name just yet.

This feels like something sacred. And I am the praying kind.

Quietly, stubbornly. And God has never felt more present than He does right now, in the way her hair floats around her face, in the light catching in her eyes, in the way she looks like she’s part of the river, not just passing through.

Her head lifts from the water, her eyes catching mine, before I can retreat.

She smiles, a slow and knowing quirk of her lips, and that smile ruins me.

She doesn’t speak—doesn’t have to. Everything I’m feeling roars through that single look. The current shifts. The silence grows thick, with tension, want, recognition. Something unspoken but heavy, hot between us.

Before I can overthink this, I nudge Midnight forward.

Midnight hesitates only slightly before stepping into the shallows. Smart animal. She senses it too—the trust in the water, in this moment. And maybe that’s the lesson I’ve been too damn stubborn to see.

Maybe it’s time to stop punishing myself.

Maybe it’s okay to want something again—someone.

This isn’t just about sex.

The mare steps into the river and we ride in slow, the water rising around my calves, then thighs.

Midnight keeps a steady line straight for her—ears forward, sure-footed even where the current picks up.

When we’re close enough that I can see the droplets clinging to Mia’s collarbone, the horse stops.

I grip the reins tighter, pulse hammering in my ears.

Mia treads water, waiting, watching me like I’m a wild animal she doesn’t want to startle.

Mia’s so close I see the slow blink of her lashes. She tilts her head up and offers me her mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world.I bent down to meet her, sliding my hand along the slick curve of her neck, my fingers sliding beneath her jaw, as I take her mouth.

God, I kiss her like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. Her lips are wet, warm, and sweet on mine. Her tongue tangles with mine and I lose the thread of every coherent thought I’ve ever had.

The guilt? Gone.

Grief? A shadow fading downstream.

All that’s left is her —her heart racing under my palm, her lips moving with mine, her body buoyed by the water and by the crazy trust she puts in me.

Her lips are soft, tasting of river and heat and something sharp and wild that’s all Mia. The kiss deepens fast, my tongue sliding against hers, slow and desperate. Everything I’ve been holding in rushes out in that kiss. The craving I’ve tried to suppress.

I slide off Midnight’s back and into the water without breaking the contact with Mia’s mouth, one hand still on her jaw, the other trailing down her back to keep her close.

She makes a noise low in her throat, that needy sound I swear I’ll chase to the ends of the earth, just to hear one more time.

I release her mouth, just enough to gesture softly and the horse, like she’s read the mood, moves toward the riverbank on her own as if to say I’ve brought you this far, cowboy; the rest is on you.

She’s one smart animal.

Now it’s just us. The water. This heat between us. The weight of years sliding off my shoulders with each second I hold her in my arms.

She blinks up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

Her breath comes in shallow puffs as her fingers roam down my chest, slow, reverent, like she’s memorizing every curve of my abs, just as I feel her soft skin under my finger tips and trace my hand down her ribcage feeling her heart racing under my palm taking in all of her.

“You okay?” she whispers.

No. But I will be. If she stays. If she keeps looking at me like I’m worth more than my worst day.

I don’t answer. I just nod and guide her closer toward the shallows, the water lapping warm around our waists. Her skin is slick beneath my hands as I pull her to me, fitting her against my chest like she was made to be there.

My mouth trailing kisses down her jaw, her throat, stopping just at the curve of her shoulder. Her body arches toward me on instinct, wet against mine, every curve fitting me like a secret she’s waited too long to tell.