Ride the Sky (Runaway Ranch, #4)

by Ava Hunter

“Cowgirls don’t cry, Fallon. They just get tougher.”

So, yeah, cowgirls don’t cry. But they sure as hell are ready to get the fuck out of Dodge.

I was born to roam. My veins are highways, my heart’s a map, and fences will not keep me in.

my hand fisting that silky caramel-blonde hair.

Trouble. That’s what Fallon was. All kinds of gorgeous, devastating trouble.

Dakota picks up a basket of rolls and narrows her eyes. “Wyatt, keep talking and you will die a brioche-related death.”

He’s a grudge I can’t get over. He’s too good for me. I’m a dark shadow, and he’s sunshine.

Not good enough. Not for a cowboy like me. Because cowboys don’t keep the girl.

“One more step, and I put you through that wall,” I growl.

Pappy, looking like a bratwurst in a suit,

“She is family,” I snarl and give the doctor a hard shove and a glare. “She’s my fucking wife.”

“Nobody could believe it. They couldn’t breathe. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. You were the wind. You rode the fucking sky.”

A rage, lawless and cruel, rises in me. The cowboy in me. For her, I wanted to hurt someone. For her, I would.

We’re like the sunset and a cowboy. We’re not meant to last.

“Don’t lose your job because of me.” His voice is gruff. Gravel. “I’d lose everything for you if it meant you got better.”

“Kid, I’m tellin’ you once. That woman’s my wife, and if you say one more word about her, I will fail you so fucking fast you’ll go back to your shitty hometown and work at your local burger dive.”

A lie. I’ve fantasized about kissing Fallon more than I care to admit. Cupping her face and pressing my lips to hers. The way her mouth tastes, sharp and sweet and of honey and whiskey. How I’d hold her and drink her up in the worst way.

“I fell today and called my therapist a fuckface.”

“I don’t put up with you. Hell, I like you, Fallon.” He caresses a thumb over the back of my hand. His voice drops to a throaty rasp. “I haven’t felt whole since you left.”

She’s a cowgirl in every sense of the word. Barefoot and beautiful and tan as buckskin. Barbwire dipped in gold. An angel with a busted halo. And she’s ready to roll.

“We don’t kiss.” “We do now,” I tell her right before slamming my lips to hers.

“You can take it, cowgirl.” His large palms settle next to mine. Another inch. The thick rawness of him makes me whimper. “Open those pretty thighs and show me how well.”

“You missed me?” I purr. “Baby, I fucking ached for you.”

“You deserve everything good and beautiful, Fallon. You deserve wild horses and sunsets. And you deserve me.” He grins. “Hell, we deserve each other. Too reckless, too stupid.”

“I’m too broken.” “We’re all broken, but you don’t need to be fixed.”

“You’re that sky there, Trouble. Blue.”

“Blue and boundless. Ceaseless and amazing. You never stop. You never end, cowgirl.” She smiles. “Nine lives.” “Nine lives, baby.”

“I like the sky.” Her mouth opens, closes. “I like…I like you, Wyatt.”

This is Fallon. In all her rage, her glory, her beauty. Sharp, cutting, wondrous. Mine. My trouble. My cowgirl.

“Because I have you, Wyatt. You make it easy to feel safe. To not feel so goddamn angry.”

“Do you feel that?” Her eyes search out mine in the dark. “Our heartbeats. They sync just like wild horses.”

“I’m from the south. When I say what did you say I’m not askin’ you to repeat, I’m askin’ if you’re good with Jesus, because you ’bout to meet him.”

“Oh fuck, there’s something about telling a grown man to shut the fuck up that really gets me going,”

Never been a fuckup. All my life, I’ve been a cowboy. A man my friends and family can count on. A husband. A damn good brother.

I want to go somewhere where I can ride the sky. Wild horses, desert, dust, maybe margaritas, if I’m lucky.

“They ain’t gonna miss you, Fallon. All your hard work, they’re gonna see you.” “You see me,” I tell him tearfully. “That’s all that matters.”

“I love you.” I make my voice, soft, steady, and see my own words reflected in his eyes. “Ride the sky, baby.”

It’s not my first rodeo, but with Wyatt’s eyes on me, it feels like it is.

“We hate each other’s fuckin’ guts, but we’re not real great with anyone else, so we decided we’re gonna grit our teeth old-married-couple style and ride this bitch into the grave.”

Then, out of the wilderness, out of the night, come the cavalry. Three pickup trucks fishtail wildly into the driveway. Davis and Charlie and Ford. Brothers. Cowboys. Help.

“You think my nine lives are up?” “Nah, Trouble.” Grinning, I sweep a kiss over her lips. “I think they’re just getting started.”

“That,” Charlie says and points at the pasture, at Fallon and Ruby who walk arm-in-arm, “is what bein’ rich looks like, brother.” I watch our wives. “Without a doubt, we’re fucked.” “No shit,” Charlie murmurs, lifting a beer to his bearded lips. “Rest of our damn lives.”

“Life feels good,” I say, snuggling into the warm cotton of his shirt. “It is good.” His velvet drawl slips over me, and I close my eyes. “Long as I got you.”

My beautiful girl. My trouble. Her moods and her heart are as changing as the wind, but Fallon, my cowgirl, is as certain and as steady as the sky.

She’s the best part of my life. The only part that has ever mattered.

“I love you, Trouble,” I tell her, pulling her close. “For the rest of my damn days, it’ll always be you.”