Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

When she learned how to fight.

“Well, honey, don’t you know? I’m his future wife. Reckon you didn’t count on that when your ass went off the rails on the crazy train to try and get a man that doesn’t want you.” I can’t see Quinn’s expression, but judging by the way Ella blanches, there’s something powerful there. “Now, I won’t hold it against you and all, especially since I know just how magical he can be, if you know what I mean. We had a little gap in our relationship that was unfortunately unpreventable, but just because I know how addictive he is doesn’t mean you get to keep on tryin’ to get a taste. Sweetheart, he’s off the market and he will never be back on it. You got me?”

Ella’s eyes narrow, and that mask of beauty she wears slips, the sneer on her face transforming her into something troll-like. “His future wife?” She throws her head back and laughs. “You expect me to believe that after he’s only been here for seven weeks?”

“Actually, he’s been here for almost eight, but who’s counting?”

“Fine, two months. In two months, he’s gone from the playboy who’s allergic to relationships to engaged?”

Quinn snorts. “Him? Allergic to relationships?” She looks over her shoulder at me, that scheming glint still shining in her eyes. “Honey, the only thing this man is allergic to is peanuts, bees, and dirty psycho skanks who don’t know how to take a hint.”

“What did you just say?”

Quinn straightens, appearing taller than she really is, with her boots braced apart and her hands on her hips. “You heard me. Let me be clear so that maybe, God willin’, you get this through your head. Tate Montgomery is my man. He was my man when he stomped down Main Street at eleven convinced there wasn’t a damn thing to do in this town. When he was fifteen and gave me my first kiss in the middle of a rainstorm on the edge of the lake with some worms between us, there was no doubt. When I gave him me and he gave me him at eighteen, the same held true. Might have lost some time with him, but that is one truth that never wavered. He wasn’t allergic to relationships; he was allergic to givin’ up hope that he wouldn’t get the woman that held his damn heart back. And sweetheart, that woman is me. So with that said, you wanna rethink what you claim is the reason behind this ridiculous visit?”

Unable to stand there anymore, I stomp the three feet keeping me from Quinn, grab her hand, and spin her around. I don’t give a single thought to Ella standing there as I lower my head and give Quinn a deep, hungry kiss. It’s short but sweet, and when I pull back with a single lick against her lips, I feel the last of the fear my father’s call instilled in me vanish.

I look up at Ella, my eyes hardening, at the same time I whisper in Quinn’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard when she gets off my fuckin’ property.”

She shivers in my hold and then addresses herself to Ella. “You’ve got two seconds to get your ass outta here before I show you just how friendly us Texans can get with a shotgun. Shoot-first state, honey.”

I see Ella jump in her high-ass heels before tottering down the porch steps. She almost breaks her neck trying to avoid getting near Quinn. The next thing I hear is the door of her sedan slamming and the heavy acceleration as she spins tires out of here. Who knows what absurd notion brought that woman to Pine Oak, but I have no doubt that Quinn’s show just now will ensure her never returning.

Quinn shades her eyes with her hand as she watches Ella’s car disappear in the distance, then turns toward me. “Jesus Jones, Tate. You sure know how to pick ’em. She wasn’t even very pretty when her face went all Bride of Chucky, Tate,” she says with a laugh.

“Goddamn, I love you.”

She loops her hands over my neck and leans into my body. “I love you too.”

“I’m sorry for that,” I whisper against her lips.

Quinn shakes her head. “You didn’t make her come here, Tate. I meant what I said—you’re not the only one fighting for us now.”

I close my eyes and lean my forehead against hers. “I haven’t felt fear that great in my life, Quinn. Not even when I realized what my father had against us did I feel it. Not when the years kept passing that kept us apart. When I heard him earlier, the only thing I felt was a desperation that I might lose you because of this bullshit. I can’t live without you, Quinn. I knew that before now, but fuck, darlin’, if the last half hour didn’t just stab me deep when I felt that panic drowning me.”

I finally open my eyes when I finish talking, swallowing thickly when I see how much love is written within her emerald irises, shining bright as hell like gemstones.

“Been workin’ toward this moment for weeks now, Tate. You came back when I never thought I would see you again. You mended what was broken when you left, then healed the pain that was there long before we had even met. You are the reason that I’ve found myself whole after a lifetime of knowin’ somethin’ was missin’. You will never know a day without me showin’ you just how thankful I am to have you back in my life, Tate. That bein’ said, if another tramp from Georgia shows up, I’m gonna make sure I bring up that shotgun first.”

“Noted,” I say with a smile, feeling my throat get thick from her words.

“It’s our time now, Tate,” she whispers, her eyes watering and one tear falling. I reach up and wipe it off and smile even though I feel my own eyes getting misty. “And anyone dumb enough to try and stand in our way can just kiss my damn boots.”





Epilogue


QUINN


“Huntin’, Fishin’ and Lovin’ Every Day” by Luke Bryan

- -

“Why do you look like that?”

I look up, blow some of my hair out of my eyes, and huff at Leigh. It’s chillier than normal out today, but even if it was summer still and not winter, I would be freezing my ass off. I’ve been like this the past few weeks, and nothing aside from using Tate’s body as a human heating pad seems to help.

I’ve been clicking my teeth together with my shivers for the past hour while Leigh and I move the rest of my stuff out of my childhood home and over to Tate’s. Lord knows how we made it the past six months without moving in together officially. There wasn’t a night we spent apart but it wasn’t until he finally sat down with Clay and asked for my hand in marriage that we decided to stop putting it off. Thank God, because I was sick of running out of things at one or the other house. My belongings had been basically split into two groups with some there and some here, the things I needed never in the right place at the right time.

“Look like what?” I ask, pulling my sweater tighter around my body and straightening the pile of shirts I had ready to cart down to my truck.

“Like you’re starving but also might hurl. Kinda like that time that you wanted to ride that big roller coaster even though you know you get that weird motion-sickness thing when you ride them.”