Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

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“You ready to head out, Starch?” Tate jumps when I step out on the porch, and I stifle my laugh. “Whoa there, cowboy. What’s got you so jumpy?”

His eyes flash at my joke, but just as quickly as it comes, it’s gone, a neutral expression in its place. I frown but write it off as him just being overwhelmed and exhausted from our trip. Even though the trip was tough for me, the quick back-and-forth must have taken its toll on him, too.

“Just tired, darlin’,” he answers, confirming my thoughts. “You sure you don’t want to stay here tonight?”

I smile and wrap my arms around his stomach, looking up at him as I hug myself to him. “As much as I appreciate you makin’ sure I don’t want to be with my brothers right now, my place is with you, honey. Mav is about to head home and Clay’s headed over to Coal Creek tonight to meet up with some friends of his. They know where I want to be, so they didn’t make plans to be here tonight.”

His lips hit my forehead and I close my eyes in contentment, his arms tightening slightly around my shoulders.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Well, then take me to bed or lose me forever, Starch.” I giggle, trying to keep a straight face.

He starts to smile, but when I feel the vibration of his phone under my clasped hands resting on top of his belt, he frowns, lines of stress forming between his eyes as his lips thin.

He doesn’t move.

“What is it?” I ask apprehensively.

“This time? Not sure.”

“Then what has you holdin’ yourself so tense?”

I feel his heartbeat pounding against my chest, and a slight ripple of unease twists through my body.

“Someone called from my parents’ number a few hours ago.”

A flash of cold slams through my senses before I can prevent it. I know what he’s said about his parents, and that alone makes me feel panic. I know he meant what he said about never letting them control us again, but still . . . They probably aren’t calling to get a status update on our relationship and ask when the damn wedding is.

“And?”

“I’m not sure what to do with it, to be honest.”

“Do they know about us?” I ask, trying to push back the worry.

He nods. “They know I was set on gettin’ back what they stole from us. I doubt they know that I’ve been successful, though.”

I take a deep breath and calm my roaring heart. I didn’t get this far just to let someone else come between us again. “Well, honey, let’s get in the truck and call them back on the way to your house. No sense in letting them darken our day any longer,” I tell him with a deadly calm tone. His body deflates slightly at my words and I roll up to my toes to press a kiss against his jaw. “I love you, Tate. One battle at a time. We’re almost at the finish line of the past and it’s time we take those final strides so we can finally start our new life together.”

Some of the harshness in his face softens and he takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

I wink. “I know.”

His chest moves as he laughs, and I feel my own worry wash away when he seems to return to his normal, confident self. I get a deep kiss from him after I climb into the passenger seat of his truck before he shuts the door and walks around the hood. He climbs in a moment later and starts the truck, turning and driving to the end of the long driveway.

When he reaches the turnoff, he pulls his phone out, looking down at the screen before glancing over at me. “You mind if I call them before we pull out of here? No offense to your family place and all, but I hope one day my house will be yours too, and I don’t really want to bring my parents near there . . . even if it is with just a phone call.”

Jesus Jones, if my heart could get any bigger, my love for this man just continues to grow. I shake my head and relax in my seat, letting him know I’m good. He nods and looks back to his phone, his fingers moving over the screen. It’s only a short few minutes’ drive to his house, but still, I’m glad he’s making this call before we get there.

Tate presses the call-back button and puts the phone on speaker.

“Too busy in that backwoods town to answer the phone, Tatum?”

I jump when a nasal, high-pitched male voice answers. The man I assume is Tate’s father sounds just as spineless as I know him to be. Good Lord, I’m glad his son didn’t get his voice.

“What do you want?” Tate asks, voice harsh and tense.

I scoot as close as I can, with the center console in the way, and see his fingers tense around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. I place my hand on his thigh, giving him a gentle squeeze so he knows I’m here if he needs me. He looks down and the second my touch registers, he rips one of his hands free and wraps it around mine.

“What do I want?” The man laughs and I suppress a shudder when the mirthless, vile sound echoes around the cab. Tate’s hold on my hand jerks. “A few months ago, my good-for-nothin’ son told me he was runnin’ back to the trash in Fisher’s old town. You made it clear then that any association between us was to be severed. What I want is to know why your bullshit is floatin’ up to darken my doorstep again.”

I don’t flinch at the implication that I’m the trash Tate was returning to. His father’s words don’t hurt me. They might have two months ago, before Tate and I made it to the solid ground we’re on now, but not anymore. Tate looks over, eyes searching, and I give him a small smile and a shake of my head, reaching over to hold his hand between both of mine. I hope he realizes that I’m not affected by his father’s hateful words.

“You hear me, Tatum?”

“I heard you, but I also heard you insultin’ my woman. Don’t make that mistake again.”

His father grunts. “The last thing I want to do is think about that woman you’ve run back to despite all attempts at me trying to get you to see your error in judgment. What could you possibly see in a mechanic, of all things?” He spits out mechanic like other people would say hooker.

Tate’s eyes spark with ire and I try to soothe his temper by shaking my head and rubbing my hand over his arm. I can feel his rage growing to be a palpable thing and I’m helpless but to witness the effect his father has on him. I can’t imagine what it was like dealing with the man while he held the upper hand for so long.

“She is so much more than that, you son of a bitch,” Tate practically growls. “She’s everything that you will never find and would have never found in those idiotic women you had such high hopes of me ending up with.”

“Oh, you stupid boy. Tell me, son, if she’s all that you claim, care to tell me why I had to deal with one of those so-called idiotic women early this morning?”

I frown at the same time Tate does.