Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek, #3) (86)

“No!” Mallory shouts the loudest with the other girls because, of course, she'd come to annoy the shit out of me. She could get lessons from Ellie any time.

But I'm pretty sure she's here because of Antonio.

They're the same age and never stop talking during the meetings. When I mentioned it to Wilder and Waylon, they threatened to “talk to him” but Mallory begged them not to.

Then, Tripp warned her that being the youngest in the family meant she had four older brothers to protect her.

Noah told her it sucked growing up with older brothers, but considering she was the first sibling to get married, and the youngest, she doesn't have much to complain about.

“Let's tack up the horses and we'll get started,” Ellie says after going over some ground rules and expectations of the students.

I help the kids with their saddles and equipment, and then make sure their helmets are secure.

No concussions on my watch.

Ellie works with them on posture, holding the reins, and other various skills. Though I step in to help when someone needs it, I love watching her in an element outside of riding.

She excels at teaching.

More patience than me, that's for sure.

“Well, that was fun!” She beams once the last kid gets picked up.

“I enjoyed it!” Mallory exclaims. “Maybe I'll be a barrel racer.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Last week you were gonna be a famous singer.”

“So? I can't do both?” She gives me an attitude like only a fifteen-year-old teenager could.

Ellie snorts, patting my chest before she walks around me. “Good luck with that.”

“Sure, go muck the stables and you can practice singing at the same time.”

She shrugs. “Jokes on you, I do that anyway.”

I spend the next hour cleaning the training center—putting the barrels away and sweeping the dirt to smooth it out.

“Hey, you done in here?” Tripp asks, popping through the entrance.

“Yep, just finished. Why, what's up?”

“Just caught Antonio and Mallory makin' out in one of the stalls.”

My jaw drops. “Shut up. Dad's gonna flip his shit.”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about Dad…” He looks like he's fighting back a smile. “The twins were with me.”

“Oh fuck.”

I follow Tripp to the stables, jogging most of the way there once I hear shouting.

“Let me go!” Mallory screams.

When I walk inside, Wilder's got Antonio pinned to the wall like a cork board and Waylon's got Mallory's arm in a firm hold.

“What're y'all doing?”

“He was feelin' her up, I saw it!” Wilder explains.

“No he wasn't!” Mallory argues, struggling to release herself from Waylon's death grip.

“Cupping…of this area…” Wilder motions toward his chest, and I fight back a laugh at his attempt to discretely specify where he's talking about. “And touchin' places he shouldn't be.”

“Not if it's over the shirt, idiot!” Mallory retorts, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.

No way she just said that.

“There should be no touching below the neck at their age!” Wilder squeezes Antonio. “You hear me?”

“Alright, release the kid before you catch an abuse charge.” I get between them, helping Antonio down. He immediately darts out of the barn, and I shake my head at Wilder.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He holds out his hand toward Mallory. “He was takin' advantage.”

“No, he wasn't. I kissed him first,” she admits.

“Mom and Dad are gonna kill ya,” Waylon tells her. “Let's go, I'm taking you back to the house.”

“Y'all are such hypocrites. As if you weren't having sex at my age.”

The four of us all snap our gazes at Mallory.

“What? I'm fifteen, not stupid. I've had the talk half a dozen times.” She rolls her eyes and then marches off toward Waylon's truck.

“Jesus Christ, I'm never havin' kids if that's what they grow up to be,” Wilder says, brushing a hand through his hair. “That Antonio kid is lucky I didn't put a pitchfork through him.”

I turn toward Tripp, clapping his back. “You've got a daughter at home…good luck in fourteen years.”





I walk through my front door and go through the living room exploding with Christmas decorations, even though we've not even celebrated Thanksgiving yet, she was determined to make our first holiday together extra special.

Seconds later, I find Ellie in the kitchen wearing my favorite white T-shirt.

“My wife in the kitchen in just panties and a shirt making me dinner? Am I dreaming?” I slide my hands around her waist, pulling her into my erection.

“You wish,” she sasses, staying focused on the ingredients set out on the counter in front of her. “I'm workin' on a cheesecake for the open house.”

“That's not for like…three or four months.”

“I know, but I need to practice. Gramma Grace's recipe is complicated as hell.”

Our dream house is in the process of being built. It's in the same spot where we had our first date by the lake, and I couldn't be more excited about it, especially for the day we get to move in.