Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,69
anyone like Billy? Tough, competitive, smart, grounded, funny—so funny.
She’d never been so attracted to anyone physically before, not like this. Billy made her want and need. He made her want everything and that was so new, and so shocking, she still hadn’t been able to wrap her head around it. The desire. The desire for him.
But the desire came with emotions, and unlike simple lust, she didn’t want to just sleep with him. She wanted the whole package… all of him. His heart along with his body, but he didn’t do relationships. He didn’t invest in women for the long haul. If they went to bed together, that was all it would be—sex. A carnal itch that might be briefly satisfied but would ultimately leave her feeling worse. Feeling emptier, more alone.
More broken.
She couldn’t handle that.
What she needed was someone who’d want her for love, but also life. Someone who’d want to be with her when she wasn’t young and she didn’t have a small waist and firm butt. She wanted someone who’d love her with wrinkles and gray hair. Someone who’d make her laugh just because he enjoyed making her laugh.
“Goldfish?” she said, eyes hot and stinging. Heart filling her throat.
“Do we have any?” he asked.
“No.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes burned into hers. “Good try.”
“Thank you.”
“I think you know what I want,” he said after a moment.
She did, too. She wanted the same thing. As his gaze held hers, she could feel the leashed desire, the hunger contained. She knew he wanted her. His energy was potent. Powerful. His interest made her feel almost beautiful, and that was something as she’d never felt beautiful, not even when people paid her compliments. It was hard to feel beautiful when you knew you were deeply flawed, when you weren’t sure you were whole enough to be truly loved. She’d grown up all too aware of her fears and foibles; the insecurities that made her feel shame.
But somehow, when she was with Billy, close to him, she didn’t feel shame. She didn’t feel broken. She felt alive and fierce. Hopeful. But all it would take was one misstep and then the beautiful desire, and the lovely sense of wanting, and being wanted, would end.
“I don’t want to be one of your girls,” she said, grateful she could sound calm, relaxed, when she felt anything but.
“This is getting harder, not easier,” he said abruptly.
She nodded.
“What are we going to do about it?” he asked.
She could see from his eyes what he wanted to do. Her pulse thudded, her heart felt as if it had tumbled to her feet. “What do you want to do?”
“Maybe I should get on the road again. Join Tommy—”
“You’re going to compete?”
“Just travel with him. Keep him company.”
Her eyes smarted. “And leave Beck here with me?”
“Boom’s mom has offered to babysit regularly—”
“So, you do mean to leave us behind.”
“I know you have work to do, and it’s hard being locked down here. I’ve nothing to do. I’m just in your way.”
Something in his tone made her chest tighten. He was creating boundaries. Distancing himself. Pushing her away again. “This your home. Maybe it’s time for me to go. You’re six weeks post-surgery. You can do almost everything—”
“Beck will miss you.”
Beck. But not Billy, not him. It was hard to swallow around the lump blocking her throat. “I love Beck. It will be hard to leave him, but I know he’s in good hands with you.”
He didn’t immediately reply. “No one is telling you to leave.”
“Thank goodness. That would be mortifying.” She struggled to smile, and held it there, as if it’d been slapped onto her face. “But I’ll always be in his life. If you let me.”
“Of course I’ll let you. You’re his family.”
His family, meaning Beck’s family. Never, ever Billy’s. The distinction was so clear, and so painful, but it was what she needed to hear. Billy wouldn’t love her. He’d never willingly choose her. “There’s something I should tell you. It will probably be a relief, but I’ve asked for, and have received, an extension on my dissertation.”
“You won’t be graduating when you planned?”
“I couldn’t get motivated, couldn’t get anything done. I’d just sit at my computer and stare at the screen and it made me feel worse about things, and life’s too short for that.”
“You should have told me. I would have gotten help. I could have reached out to Ellen and asked if she’d be interested in coming over every day—”