Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

“He’s still breedin’ this late in the summer?” I say, pleased as fuck when some of the harshness in his face disappears.

“Stopped in June. Now he’s takin’ care of his stallions, the pregnant mares, and his rescues. Doesn’t get any less busy for him, but at least he’s not doin’ the round-the-clock matin’ games.”

I nod, thinking about how much work is involved in running a stud farm. I can’t imagine how crazy things are here for the first six months of the year.

“Look, they’re getting along,” Quinn whispers to Leigh, doing a shit job of keeping her voice down. Clearly, I’m not the only one that thinks so either, because the calm expression that had taken hold of Maverick while he was explaining the breeding vanishes and his eyes narrow again.

Fuck.

Well, the reprieve was nice while it lasted, at least.

“Should have kept your big mouth shut, Q,” Leigh hints, doing an equally shitty job at keeping the volume of her words down.

Maverick gives me another nasty glare, and it’s the tipping point for my patience.

Fuck this.

“Look, Maverick, with all due respect, I’m not really interested in wasting more of my first date with Quinn waitin’ to see who blinks first. It’s my first day off since startin’ at the practice and a day that was goin’ pretty damn perfect until just now. It’d probably be easier on you if you’d just get whatever it is you want to say off your chest so I can move on with my mornin’. I get that you’re protective of your sister, and I respect the hell outta that, but you standin’ here tryin’ to intimidate me isn’t somethin’ I would prefer dealin’ with when I’d rather be spendin’ my time showin’ your sister that she’s not gonna regret givin’ us another go. In the end, it’s her opinion that matters most to me.”

“That so?” he asks mockingly.

I hear Quinn make a low, distressed noise, and I break eye contact with Maverick to check on her. I don’t give a flying fuck if it makes me look weak to him, breaking from our staring contest of intimidation, because she means more to me than being top dog.

“What is it?” I question.

“I don’t want y’all fightin’,” she mumbles.

“Who said anything about fightin’, Grease?”

I try to make light of it, but to be honest, I would gladly let her brother throw some punches if it made him feel better about accepting our relationship without causing her grief. In his mind, all I am is the person who broke her heart, and as her brother he’s in protection mode. I can’t fault him for that. It’s what I expected from Clay when we talked, and I have a feeling if Maverick knew what I had told Clay already, he wouldn’t be acting like this right now. I really should have gone out of my way to talk to him before now, but taking on both of the Davis brothers at the same time was the last thing on my mind. Maverick has always been a hothead too. Bottom line, I need Clay’s backing if I have a chance of getting Maverick’s.

Guess I should have thought twice about that one.

“If it keeps your ass from fuckin’ up again, maybe that’s not a bad idea.”

Quinn’s eyes flash with pain and she looks visibly upset at his words, and now I’m no longer content with letting him continue his macho shit in front of her.

“Outside,” I fume at her brother. If his bullshit is going to make her revert back to the girl that was almost too scared to give us a go, I’m going to make damn sure this is a fight he doesn’t fucking win.

“You guys,” Quinn wails, but it’s too late. The challenge has been issued. And no country boy worth his salt ever backs down from a challenge.

“Keep your ass inside,” Maverick calls over his shoulder on the way to the door. It isn’t clear which woman he’s speaking to, but to be honest, I only care about one of them right now.

I let him pass, focusing on Quinn, framing her face with my hands and tipping her head up gently so she’s looking at me and not her brother’s departing back. “I know you don’t want us to fight, baby, but I need you to trust me right now and not give me any trouble ’bout goin’ out there. You have my word that I won’t get physical with him, just words, Grease. As much as I hate doin’ somethin’ you don’t want, I need to give your brother a chance to get this off his chest so he can step aside and let this happen.”

She starts to shake her head, her still-wet hair falling some from the knot she’s got it in on top of her head.

“Trust me,” I stress.

She swallows—I feel it against the heel of my hand—and closes her eyes. I give her time, knowing that with those two words I’m asking her to do a whole lot more than just trust me to go outside and talk to her brother. If she decides she still doesn’t want me to go, I won’t fault her. Her trust is something I have to earn back, and I’m not stupid enough to think that can be gained in just a few days.

Then she shocks the shit out of me.

“I do.” She sighs. “I do trust you, Tate. What happened between us before—that’s not about lack of trust anymore, now that I know the reasons behind it. I just . . . I just got both of you back, even if he’s been back for longer. The two men I’ve dreamt about returning to me are finally where they belong, and if this ends with me having to choose between you both . . . that thought is a killer.”

“I’ll never ask you to make that decision, Quinn.”

“You won’t have to.”

We both turn when Maverick speaks, standing just inside the front door.

“Love you, Hell-raiser, but let me talk to him and stop worryin’ about that shit.”

“Maverick,” Quinn breathes. “This is goin’ to happen regardless of your talk.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind me havin’ my say.”

She exhales and I bend to kiss her temple. “Go get changed. We’re headin’ out as soon as I finish this.”

She nods, and I turn to follow her brother outside.

He moves to the end of their long front porch, looking off toward the stables set a good distance away from their house. I can feel the unanswered questions vibrating off of him.

“Go ahead, Maverick. Say what you need to say and get it out, because I’m not going to have this shit come up again. Not when it hurts her like this.”

He flinches, the most minute of movements, but I see it. He doesn’t like hurting her, so for him to force my hand means there’s no way he’s touched base with Clay since I talked to him. Or . . . or maybe he has and he just doesn’t give a shit.

Not waiting for him to speak, I lean my ass against the rail and look through the window in front of me to see Quinn watching us. She hasn’t moved from the spot I left her in, not that I expected her to actually listen to me. I push my frustration-born anger aside and give her what I hope is the face of a confident man trying to reassure the woman he doesn’t want upset.

I’m rewarded with the worry fading from her face before her shoulders move as one when she sucks in a deep breath.