Lost and Lassoed (Rebel Blue Ranch, #3)

by Lyla Sage

The point is that I know Teddy is pretty. Beautiful, even. But beautiful like a lion or an elk or any other large and dangerous animal. Beautiful to look at, but you didn’t want to get too close because it’d rip your throat out or trample you or spear you to death with its giant horns.

I wondered whether I could taste the sun on her skin. Jesus, Gus. Do you think you’re a poet? Check yourself.

“And now we’re getting our vitamin D,” Riley said. “It’s good for you. Do you need some?” “I think I’m all good,” I said. “But you keep at it. I’ll come get you when dinner is ready. Enjoy your vitamin D, Teddy,” I called. “I prefer the other kind, but the sun will do,” she called back. I made a choking noise, which Teddy must’ve heard, because she said, “Get your mind out of the gutter, Gus. There’s a child present.”

“Tell me, Teddy…baby. Can I touch you like this?”

“Listen to me. I am in possession of all my mental faculties, I’m not sleepwalking, I’m not possessed, and I’m not walking away this time. Okay?” “Okay.” Teddy’s voice was quiet. I kissed her forehead before I left. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I liked doing it with Teddy.

There were a lot of ranches out there that would give them up at that point, but not Amos Ryder. A lifetime of service was more than enough to earn a horse a comfortable retirement at Rebel Blue.

I cracked open the Coke. The first sip burned down my throat. Some people like to crack open a cold beer at the end of a hard workday. Me? I like a crisp Diet Coke.

Gus smiled at me again, then flipped onto his back. “And I want you to ride my face. So I think we can both get what we want here.” “August Ryder,” I breathed as I sat up. “Are you offering me a mustache ride?” Gus smoothed two of his fingers over his mustache and said, “Saddle up, baby.”

I came with his name on my lips and his cock buried deep inside me.

At the hospital, I had to be a daughter, a caretaker. I had to be on point there, around everyone else. Here, in the cab of his truck, I could just be. I didn’t have to be Teddy the daughter or the caretaker or the best friend or the flirt. Here, with him, I could just be Teddy. I sighed. God, I was so tired. I closed my eyes. I heard Gus get out of the truck, but I stayed. I couldn’t move. After a few seconds, my door opened, and the warm air of the summer morning hit my face. I didn’t open my eyes until I felt Gus’s arms—one slid under my knees and the other behind my shoulder blades—and he lifted me out. I blinked up at him, and he looked down at me. “I’ve got you, Teddy baby.”

When I curled into his side, I felt his lips in my hair. “You can cry, Teddy,” he said. And so I cried. And cried. And August Ryder held me the whole time.

“I know you, Gus,” Cam said. “And if you’ve let your guard down enough that Riley was able to sneak a peek at you and a woman holding hands, when I can’t even remember the last time I saw you give a woman the time of day, I’m going to bet something’s going on.” Still not looking Cam in the eye, I lied again. “It’s nothing.” “Liar,” Cam said. “Remind me never to call you as a witness.”

Before we went outside, I remembered that Teddy had said something a while ago about her and Hank’s washing machine being on the fritz, so I grabbed my toolbox out of the hall closet, and we were on our way.

It scared the shit out of me—knowing that I might’ve found exactly what I’d always wanted—because that meant I could lose it.

I’d think about the time my daughter and I danced together in Teddy Andersen’s garage.

There were parts of Teddy that would always belong to the world around her, but that didn’t matter because there were also parts of her that were all mine.

“Papa bought me my own sleeping bag, and it’s pink,” Riley was saying. “And we made s’mores but we made them with Reese’s instead of Hershey’s.” “Mmm. That sounds decadent,” I said. Riley paused for a moment. “What does dickadent mean?”

This was the scary thing about want—the fact that it wasn’t a guarantee. It was a wish, and wishes were made of air—at best.

“Is that…? Riley, look!” And then Riley shouted, loud enough for all of Meadowlark to hear: “It’s rock fucking jasmine!”

We’d sat with each other in the living room, calmly existing in each other’s orbit for the first time ever, during that time. We talked. We laughed. We gave each other shit. We’d started to see parts of each other that we liked, and the parts of each other that we didn’t like in the light of day were softened by the night. And so were we.

“I want to be with you. I want us to be together. This summer was incredible. I loved every second of it, but I don’t want it to be over. I want it to be our beginning. “I don’t have much to offer,” he went on softly. “Just a quiet life with a grumpy man from a small town, but I can promise to love you every day.”

“Wanting used to scare me so much, because I didn’t think I had the space to want anything more than what I’ve got. But wanting a future with you is the easiest thing in the world. And I want it all, with you.”