BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (50)
  1. Prologue
  2. Chapter One
  3. Chapter Two
  4. Chapter Three
  5. Chapter Four
  6. Chapter Five
  7. Chapter Six
  8. Chapter Seven
  9. Chapter Eight
  10. Chapter Nine
  11. Chapter Ten
  12. Chapter Eleven
  13. Chapter Twelve
  14. Chapter Thirteen
  15. Chapter Fourteen
  16. Chapter Fifteen
  17. Part Two
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One
  24. Chapter Twenty-Two
  25. Chapter Twenty-Three
  26. Chapter Twenty-Four
  27. Chapter Twenty-Five
  28. Chapter Twenty-Six
  29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  31. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  32. Chapter Thirty
  33. Chapter Thirty-One
  34. Chapter Thirty-Two
  35. Chapter Thirty-Three
  36. Chapter Thirty-Four
  37. Chapter Thirty-Five
  38. Chapter Thirty-Six
  39. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  40. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  41. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  42. Chapter Forty
  43. Chapter Forty-One
  44. Chapter Forty-Two
  45. Part Three
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Epilogue

Now that I have my luggage, I decide to stop by the bathroom and splash some water on my face and force myself to calm the hell down. My breaths are coming out ragged and shallow. Standing in front of the sink, I place my hands on my knees and let my head hang. I drag in deep breaths through my nose, exhaling them through my mouth. My pulse is hammering in my ears and my eyes sting.

“Fuck. Get it together, Cash,” I berate myself quietly, hoping like hell no one else is in this bathroom watching me fall the fuck apart. “This is Stone. No matter what you say, he’s going to love you.”

I’ve resorted to talking to myself in an airport bathroom. Lord have mercy, I’m losing my mind. My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I reach in and pull it out. It’s a text from Stone.

Stone: Have you landed yet? I’m just out front. :)

Me: Yup! Got my bags and I’m heading your way.

I look at myself in the mirror before turning on the cold water and splashing some onto my face. This is it. I can do this. With one hand wrapped around my suitcase, I head out of the bathroom and toward the front of the airport. The walk feels like it takes hours, but I know realistically, it probably only takes a few minutes.

My head feels light, and my hands are still shaking. All the air leaves my lungs as he comes into view. He’s so fucking handsome. His black hair is styled back, out of his face, and his full pink lips are tugged into a toothy grin as soon as he sees me. He’s wearing my favorite pair of Wranglers, that hug his thick thighs and ass so good, it should be illegal, with a plain white V-neck t-shirt, with the sleeves rolled over once. His black Oakley shades are tucked into the front of his shirt, and he’s wearing a pair of dark brown leather cowboy boots that are really fucking working for him.

I try to swallow over the lump in my throat, but my tongue feels like it’s coated in chalk. I don’t understand why I’m so fucking nervous, but he’s about 30 feet in front of me now, and I’m genuinely concerned I may pass the fuck out before I can even reach him. Death by nerves.