Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

“Gut, Hell-raiser. Talkin’ loud?”

Smiling, remembering our talk a few weeks ago. “Been screamin’ for a week now, Clay. Just gotta get rid of the big ol’ scaredy-cat standin’ in the way.”

His chest rumbles against my ear. “Let Tate worry about that, okay?”

“Okay,” I reply softly.

- -

Clay leaves to head down to the stables shortly after our morning chat, right before the clock even ticks past six in the morning. He doesn’t tell me anything else about his talk with Tate and I don’t ask, but he does make sure to reiterate that he’ll be supporting me all the way while Tate and I begin this new phase of our relationship. I still can’t believe this is real.

I keep checking the clock, waiting. Not for Tate, seeing as it’s still early as hell—according to him, I’ll see him at eight and I’m to be ready for a day outside. I still have another hour and a half before he’s expected to pick me up. No, I’m waiting for it not to be so dang early so I can call Leigh and fill her in.

When I got back last night, she was the first person I called, not wanting to waste a second, since I knew she was still upset that I hadn’t come to her with my feelings right after the first call I made to Tate five weeks ago. She couldn’t talk long, having just gotten to the movie theater with Maverick for date night, but after she squealed through the line with me, she made me promise to call first thing.

So that’s what I’m doing. Standing in the middle of the living room, dusting the coffee table at six twenty-five in the morning while I wait for the next five minutes to pass.

“Oh, fuck it.” I toss the rag I was dusting with down and rush to the kitchen to grab my phone off the charger.

“Hold on,” Maverick answers in a surly tone that lets me know he just woke up. Oops. I forgot Leigh mentioned he was taking the morning off.

“Hello?” she says a moment later, sounding like she’s actually still sleeping.

“Hi!” I rush out, my hyper excitement getting the best of me and ruining any chance I had of playing at playing it cool while she takes the time to wake up.

“Quinn? Jesus, what time is it?”

“Almost six thirty. You told me to call you in the morning,” I remind her.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would call this early.”

I wave my hand in the air and roll my eyes. Not that it’s effective, since she can’t actually see me. “Tate’s gonna be here in a little over an hour, Leigh. In a little over an hour I’m going on my first date with Tate Montgomery and I’m so excited, nervous, terrified, over the moon, I think my heart might stop.”

I hear her say something to my brother, Maverick’s deep voice coming through from a distance when he replies. A moment later, the sound of her peeing hits my ears.

“Seriously?”

“You called me two hours after I finally got to sleep, Q. Excuse me if I can’t hold my piss in long enough to wait until we’re off the line.”

“Didn’t you go before you went to bed? What the hell were you doing up at four in the morning anyway?”

“I can’t answer that, because you told me I wasn’t allowed to talk about your brother’s beautiful penis anymore,” she replies, her voice sugary sweet.

“Well,” I say after a brief moment of shocked silence, my mind needing a second to purge the thought from my head. Then, like any girl that grew up with two older brothers that unfortunately didn’t know how to warn someone before they walked around naked, I detach myself from the vision of it being my brother’s penis she’s talking about and pretend that Maverick had a Ken-doll crotch and my best friend was ridin’ someone else’s manhood. “You really need to be better about usin’ the restroom after sex. You don’t want bacteria and shit to fester in your bits. If that happens, you’re gonna end up with a nasty infection from that penis you’re so fond of and an appointment to let Tate check things out.”

“That . . .” She pauses. “I’m not even sure what to say to that.”

“Nothin’ to say. You just need to make a mental note to practice better hygiene after your late-night playdates with my brother,” I sass. Then, like a lightbulb going off in my head, another thought zaps through my mind. “Unless, you two are workin’ on that niece you promised me.”

“Oh God, Q. Give that up, will ya?” She laughs, but it doesn’t sound convincing.

“Why? Because you’re already pregnant?”

She snorts, the sound unladylike. “No, Jesus. We want to have some time to enjoy each other before we start a family. You should give it up, because I can assure you there aren’t going to be any nieces or—”

“Don’t you say it,” I warn, cutting her off.

“Nephews!” she yells. “You are way too sensitive about that. Besides the fact that we’re nowhere near ready to start our family, you need to get it through your head that there’s a very real possibility that when we are, it won’t be a girl!”

“You’re right. We can talk about my nieces later. Right now, you need to help me prep for my date. My date that starts in almost an hour. Shit, oh my God, I take it back—I’m more nervous and terrified than I am over the moon and excited.”

“Where are y’all going?”

“I don’t know! He just said we would be outside all day. That could mean anything. Do I even bother puttin’ on makeup when we’re gonna roast anyway? Should I wear somethin’ nice? Shit, yup . . . definitely terrified.”

“Let’s start with you calmin’ down.” She giggles. “Skip the makeup, you don’t need it. Keep your hair up; just fix the mess you probably have it bound in already.” She pauses, probably to see if I’ll deny that she knows me so well. “Go with cutoffs, maybe a cute tank top, or maybe that flowy, blousy thing you have—the one with no sleeves. I would say flip-flops since it’s gonna be hot as hell out, but you don’t ever go without your boots, so that should about cover it.”

I nod to myself. “Okay, I can do all that. I look great in cutoffs. That sounds perfect.”

“Stop muttering to yourself, too. You’re beautiful, you’ll look beautiful, and even if you had a paper sack on, he’s gonna think the same thing. Stop freakin’ yourself out.”

“What’s she goin’ on about?” I hear Maverick ask in the background, and my eyes widen.

“Don’t you do it,” I warn Leigh.

“She’s going on a date with Tate Montgomery today,” she answers, ignoring me, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“What’s he doing? Why can’t I hear him?”

“He’s getting dressed.” She giggles.

“Leighton Elizabeth James,” I hiss through thin lips.

“I’m kiddin’. He’s callin’ Clay.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.”

“Seriously, Q. You’ve got this. Give yourself a break. It’s okay to be nervous.”

“What if I puke on it because I’m that nervous?”

She laughs full out at that. “Seein’ as you already puked on him once and he still asked you on a date, I’m guessin’ he wouldn’t think twice about it.”

I moan, embarrassed at the reminder of my drunken shame.

“You need to go get ready.”