Cowboy Up (Coming Home #3)

Quinn laughs her ass off. Leigh just smiles sweetly up at me.

I’m opening my mouth to tell them just how serious I am when Leigh looks over my shoulder, her smile growing. Then I hear a voice that’s been haunting my dreams for almost two months now.

“Hey . . . uh, I’m sorry I’m late,” the sweet-as-pie voice says from behind me.

Takes everything in me to not react when there’s one hell of a war raging inside of me from just hearing that breathy apology. I clench my teeth so hard, my jaw hurts, but I don’t turn.

“That’s all right, honey. I know you’ve been going through a lot lately so I’m just happy you came out.”

“She wouldn’t have missed it,” a new voice I don’t recognize says.

“Lucy loves babies.” My heart thunders in my chest when I hear her speak again.

Leighton stands and walks past me, I assume to greet the late guests. Quinn slaps my thigh and I look down at my sister.

“Get out of my way, you big giant.”

Realizing I’m blocking her ability to heave out of her seat, I reach down and help her stand. She shoves me aside the second she’s up with more strength than a tiny woman should have, and follows in Leigh’s wake. I steady my breathing and turn. I should have known nothing I could do would matter. When I saw her across the smoke-filled bar the other night, I felt that like a punch in the gut. Now, seeing her this close is enough to have my cock going from zero to sixty. She doesn’t notice me, or if she does, she isn’t making it obvious. Her eyes flicker around the crowded barn, looking at what seems like everything and anything at once. If I thought it was hard to ignore this pull without being face-to-face, it’s going to be next to impossible now. And I’m not even sure if I want to ignore it.

Fuck, I need to get out of here and figure out what the hell is going through my mind.

“You remember my big brother, Clay, right Caroline?”

I look away from the dark-haired beauty who has me licking my lips and praying for an apple pie to look at my sister. I know Luke called her Carrie that night, I heard it clear as day, and the name has stuck with me since. Just as the thought comes, I remember the name she was screaming in my ear that same night. Looks like we were both playing a damn game.

She looks up at me, her cheeks turning pink despite her olive skin. Her dark brown eyes searching mine, but I don’t see recognition. One dainty hand comes out, timidly, and she gives me a weak smile. What happened to the feisty woman who came on my cock so many times I felt the vise grip days after I snuck out of that hotel room?

“N-nice to meet you,” she says softly.

Reaching out, I drag the tips of my fingers down hers and across her palm before engulfing her hand inside of mine. I know the exact moment she figures it out. Her plump lips part on a gasp and her hand spasms in mine.

“Pleasure,” I rumble, my voice just as thick as my cock.

“Davis,” she breathes.

“Yeah,” Quinn chuckles, drawing the word out and looking at her like she’s lost her mind. “My oldest brother, Clayton Davis, the family name and all.”

My eyes stay on hers as the silence turns awkward for those watching. Putting her out of her misery, I regretfully release her hand and take a step back, tipping my chin down in a quick nod. “I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.”

Still looking at Carrie—no, Caroline—I raise a brow and hope to God she sees the promise in my gaze. This isn’t over. Just touching her again was enough to make that thought clear as day to myself. No more denying this connection.

I might’ve been prepared to never give into that again, but there isn’t a force strong enough to keep us from colliding. And that’s just what we’re doing. I’ve felt that tug twice now in her presence as the connection between us pulled and pulled. We aren’t going to ignore Fate if she wants us to cross paths. I would have probably gone on my way without looking for this woman who’s haunted my memories for two months, but I’m not a stupid man and I damn sure won’t look a gift horse in the mouth now that this is proving to be inevitable.

We’ll finish this later.

Caroline and me.

In private.





8


CAROLINE


“Flatliner” by Cole Swindell & Dierks Bentley

- -

“What the hell was that?” Lucy hisses after Clayton Davis disappears through the open door that we had just entered a few minutes before.

I shake my head, not even sure where to begin explaining how I know the eldest Davis, and in front of his family no less.

There’s no way.

Just my mind playing tricks.

I’ve been under so much stress lately it wouldn’t be a stretch to think my mind conjured up the one person I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Between the sleep I’ve been losing since the fire, seeing that the motel I call home now has the thinnest walls, and the residual sadness I feel every time I handle more red tape from the insurance company dealing with The Sequel, I’m about as close to going insane as it gets. My life is up in the air—where my future had been is one big question mark, and now, on top of that, I’m hallucinating.

“You and Clay know each other?”

I blink at the question, not really sure which of the pregnant ladies in from of me asked, but hoping neither really expected me to answer. If what I felt when my hand touched his looked half as time-stopping as it felt, I wouldn’t want to know the details if it was my brother or brother-in-law.

“That was intense,” Lucy chimes in, not helping this situation in the least.

Even if that wasn’t the same man, even in my na?veté I can recognize the connection that we felt. My palm tingles at the thought and I look toward the last place I saw him, oddly having to fight back the desire to run after him and demand answers.

Quinn steps into the path of my gaze and looks at me with fascinated shock, her green eyes as bright as gems, twinkling with mischief. “Jesus Jones. You and Clay?! I mean, you’re beautiful, honey, so I don’t doubt you turn heads, but he’s just so . . . Clay!”

I sputter, shaking head in denial so fast that I surely look like I’m impersonating a bobblehead doll. “No!” I exclaim, fidgeting with my purse strap as anxious, nervous energy starts to get the best of me. I can feel my hands grow clammy at the thought of being on display, and I have to fight to keep my back straight instead of hunching like I normally would when the spotlight is turned toward me.

“Oh my,” Lucy gasps in a breathy tone. “She’s lying.”

I turn to my ex–best friend and continue shaking my head. God, shut up, Luce.

“She’s lying so bad, I’m shocked her nose isn’t a mile long,” she keeps going with a laugh, sticking her bubble-gum-pink-tipped finger in front of my face, and I swear right then and there that her death will be slow and painful.

“This is better than pie.” Leighton giggles happily.

“No, this is better than a ’51 Ford ready for a complete rebuild,” Quinn adds with a dreamy sigh.