Seeing Red (Wells Ranch, #2)

by Bailey Hannah

For all of us who thought we’d have everything figured out in our twenties. It’s okay if you need more time to find yourself.

And if you’re really stressed about it, you can always fuck a tattooed cowboy on the hood of your ex’s car. See if that helps.

If there’s one thing men have, it’s the fucking audacity.

After a lifetime of daydreams about her, I was too lost in reliving the way her pussy fit me, the way her body reacted to my touch, and the feel of her hands on my skin to notice her leaving until it was too late to stop her.

Until now. Until her. I’ll choose her every time.

“Cassidy, if I had to pick somebody to have a baby with, I’d choose you every damn time.” “I’d choose you, too,” she mutters softly.

I love her. I’m madly in love with Cassidy Bowman. And I think—fuck, I hope I’m right on this—that she might be starting to feel the same way.

With unhurried, effortless thrusts, I hope this is as magical for her as it is for me. Because, fuck me, I love her with every part of my soul.

“You did it, sweetheart. You fucking did it. I love you so much. You’re so beautiful and incredible and, holy shit, I fucking love you.“

“You’re the best thing to happen to me. My first choice, my every dream come true. Thank you for being the other half to my broken pieces. I am so madly in love with you, husband.”

When my hands glide over the intricate lacework of her dress, it’s a reminder that I’m kissing Cassidy Bowman. The girl of my dreams. The girl who was so far out of my league for years; the girl who is still too good for me. I kiss her, and my heart fucking skips at the thought, because Cassidy soon-to-be Thompson kisses me back.

That the man I’d passed over for years was exactly the person I needed. Now the only future I want to have is one with this perfect little family—the rest is small potatoes.