Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

When she finishes talking there is nothing but silence around us. I see Maverick stand, and I’m vaguely aware of him walking around the coffee table and bending to give Leigh a kiss. Unable to look away from my best friend, I see him out of the corners of my shocked eyes as he gets closer to me before giving me a kiss on the top of my head. His boots echo around the room behind him as he makes his way out the back door of their house, presumably headed back to the mess hall for dinner with everyone like Leigh had said.

Leigh doesn’t pay him any mind, her focus completely and wholly on me, nothing but understanding and support in her eyes. Jesus, I didn’t give her enough credit if she picked all that up.

“If I take a chance—given that there’s even one to take—and let him close to that part of me again, somethin’ I haven’t let any man near since the last time I gave that to Tate, it could end in disaster, Leigh.”

“Or . . . it could end in pure magic.”

“It could be my destruction,” I debate.

“Or it could be your salvation.”

My salvation.

I guess that would lead to the question of what exactly I would be being saved from: the life I’m content-ish to live as alone as possible, or the fear I try my hardest not to let rule my world. I don’t want to give it that kind of power, but it always finds a way to sneak back in.

“You, my best friend, are the strongest woman I know. Maybe its time you stop hidin’ behind the wall you’ve built up around your heart and show Tate Montgomery what a hell-raisin’ badass you’ve become since he saw you last.”

I snort, the sound unattractive and loud, right before I choke on the tickle it vibrates up my dry throat. With watering eyes, I laugh through the coughs as I clear my throat. “I’m startin’ to think you guys just call me that because you know it’s nowhere near the damn truth.”

Leigh gets a serious look on her beautiful face and I know I’m in trouble. “I guess you really do need a night out, then, because the Quinn Davis I know never hits the bar without raisin’ a little hell. You earned that nickname fair and square, honey.”

I scoff under my breath, making a big act out of being put out. “That was one time!” I yell with a smile.

“Try every time,” she mocks. “This weekend. The Dam Bar. It’s happenin’. We can even get all dressed up in all that crap you bought for the girls night we had last summer. Do you still have that purple wig?”

A burst of excitement scatters through my body at the thought. “Do I have it?” I puff in disbelief. “I would never get rid of Lenore.”

“It’s really weird that you give names to so many things, Quinn.”

I shrug, not even giving a single damn about the strange quirks that make me . . . me. Now that I’m letting the idea of a night out take root, I really think she’s on to something. I can’t even remember when the last time we all went out was, and with the long hours I’ve been spending at the shop working on Homer, I haven’t even seen Clay much, and we live in the same, albeit huge, home. The past few weeks we’ve just been two tired souls crossing paths after long days at work. Maybe she’s right and a night with my family—beers flowin’, and dancin’ with Leigh until my legs fall off—is just what I need to remind myself exactly how far I’ve come.

I’m not that scared little girl desperate for love anymore. I’m not ruled by the past. Not any part of it. Especially not the chunk that houses the memory of the one man that spent every summer for years making me believe that I could trust what my heart tells me. All it took was one stupid phone call to make me remember, and even without knowing what his return means for what we had years ago, I’ve let him awaken those fears again.

I’ll show him. Tate Montgomery isn’t going to know what hit him.

“Friday night, Leigh. Make sure that overprotective beast you live with knows that while we’re at the Dam Bar, you’re mine, and when Lenore and Loretta hit the town, no man will stand in our way.”

“There’s my little hell-raisin’ badass!” She jumps from the couch and pulls me to my feet, wrapping me in her slim arms.

We spend an embarrassing amount of time squealing like girls. By the time I leave to head home to the Davis ranch, we’ve already picked out an outfit from among her “slut clothes”—the very few pieces that I forced her to buy over the years—that will coordinate with the clothes I’m already mentally pulling from my closet back home. It’s been a long time since we let the girls out to play. I know it was well before Maverick came home. That thought alone is enough to amp up my excitement. I can’t wait to see how he acts when he gets a good look at Leighton in all her Loretta glory.

Most of all, though, I finally feel like myself after spending over three weeks living through the foggy memories of my past. It’s out of my system, thankfully before Tate returned, because the last thing I plan on showing him is how deeply I still feel the emptiness his departure left behind.

Nope.

He won’t get that. Quinn, the hell-raisin’ badass is back, and Tate Montgomery can kiss my boots.





7


TATE


“Get Me Some of That” by Thomas Rhett

- -

Nothing has changed. Everything looks different.

Those are the first two conflicting thoughts to cross my mind as I roll into Pine Oak, thumb tapping against the steering wheel in tempo with the slow classic country music playing in the background. I can see Main Street ahead, and just like the last time I was here, everything is shut down, even though it’s just past 8 p.m. Having lived just north of Atlanta since leaving Texas, I’m not used to this . . . stillness, but I find it makes for a very welcome change of pace. I didn’t realize just how out of place I had been in Georgia until I got closer to Texas. The stuffy suits I had been wearing for the past few years were left behind, old faded Wranglers and tees, flannels, and casual button-downs taking their place.

It’s no secret that I was burned out, and only a little of that had to do with the rut I seemed to have gotten stuck in. It felt like my life was one giant muddin’ trail right after the rain. You know that moment when the divots are the deepest and the mud just reaches up, grabs hold of your tires, and won’t let go? You could spin those sons of bitches for hours and not get any traction. That’s where my life had been.

Stuck, spinning for purchase, but getting nowhere despite how much effort I was putting forth.