Stealing Hearts (Wild at Heart #1)(85)

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Just… I want to clear the air before we head back to the ranch.”

With a frown, he sets down his food. “I know I’ve been an asshole this week. I’m sorry.”

“You’re grumpy. You’ve always been grumpy. I don’t have a problem with that.”

“But I shouldn’t have yelled at you when you told me to talk to Harlan. You were just trying to help.”

“My feelings were really hurt, but I know you were going through a lot.”

He reaches for my hand and kisses my palm. “That’s no excuse.”

“When you told me to go to Florida, I wanted to crawl under a rock.”

“Baby.” He tries to tug me close, but I pull my hand back. For a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, I see a fresh wave of regret behind them. “I thought my ship was sinking, that I was about to lose the ranch and had nothing to offer you, but I figured you still had a chance to achieve your dream. You could take that coaching position and do what you set out to do when we agreed to get married.”

That makes sense, actually. “You were really drunk last night.”

“Which was stupid. I don’t want to travel down that road. It messed up my father and his marriage to my mother. I won’t turn to booze again.”

I nod. That’s good to know.

There’s still one more thing that’s really bothering me. I take a deep breath. “I was pretty humiliated when you had that discussion with Darlene at the festival. Everyone heard her freaking out and accusing you of cheating on her with me.”

“Sweetheart, you know it wasn’t like that. She and I were clear from the beginning that we were just hooking up.”

It’s scary to be this vulnerable, but I think it’s important to get everything on the table. “When you said y’all screwed in your truck, I felt like our one time when we did that wasn’t special anymore. Like it was just a typical Friday evening for you.”

“Shit. Wildflower, I’m sorry.” He groans and scrubs his face. “You have to know you and Darlene mean completely different things to me. Having sex with her there was about convenience. I pulled over that day with you because I can’t keep my hands off you. Because I can’t get enough of you. Because I’m going a little crazy with how much I want you. Every single time I hop in my truck now, I think about that afternoon with you.”

“Really?”

“Swear to God.”

The sincerity in his gaze smooths over my ruffled feathers a little.

I bite my bottom lip. “Why didn’t you talk to her and let her know you and I were together?”

“She always called at the worst possible time. When I was working or with the kids.” He shrugs. “It just didn’t seem like a priority. When I returned her calls, I’d get voice mail, and I just felt like an asshole trying to leave a message.”

I chuckle. I shouldn’t laugh, but he looks adorable with that frown on his face. “For the record, I don’t care how dumb you feel, I want you to leave messages on my voice mail when we need to talk.”

He nods. “I know this. And I promise I’ll try to be better about that.”

“Thank you.” I swallow past the nervousness, needing to know more. “So you weren’t keeping Darlene on the back burner in case you and I didn’t work out?”

His head jerks back. “No, of course not. Fucking Trig McAllister. I should kick his ass for saying that.” He sets our food aside and pulls me into his lap. “Paige, get this into your pretty head. I haven’t thought about another woman since I yanked you out of your car and threw you over my shoulder. You’ve consumed all my thoughts. And I might have wavered about my ability to be married again, but that had everything to do with my baggage, not with you. You’re fucking perfect. Let me be clear—I’m all in here. You, me, our kids, our marriage? That’s everything to me.”

I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. “You swear you don’t regret marrying me?”

His hand cradles my face, and his thumb grazes my cheek. “How could I regret the best thing to ever happen to me?” He kisses me softly. “While we’re clearing the air, can I ask a few favors?”

“Sure.”

“One of the reasons I’ve been against having more children is because Amber had severe postpartum depression and refused to get help.”

His ex has always seemed temperamental. I can only imagine how much worse that got with PPD. “I had no idea.”

“It would kill me to watch you go through something similar. Once we have the baby, I want you to let me know if you’re not feeling right. I swear I’ll be there for midnight feedings and diaper changes and every doctor appointment. But please communicate if you’re feeling off or overwhelmed, so I can get you more rest or vitamins or medicine—whatever you need. I don’t want you to be afraid to share what’s going on with you, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I’m here for all of it.”

My eyes sting, and I blink to clear them. His reluctance to have more kids makes so much sense now. “I can do that.”

He takes a relieved breath, and his lips tilt up in a crooked smile. “Thank you.”

It’s so easy to make him happy. I cradle his handsome face in my palm. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about?”