Trey blinks, caught off guard, but nods. “Yeah, of course.”
I slip out of my chair before I can talk myself out of it and wind my way toward the bar but I don’t stop there. I move past it, through the swinging half-door near the back, down the hallway lined with old rodeo photos and cracked paint.
I find Will in the storeroom, counting bottles, like he didn’t hear me coming.
“You send drinks to all the girls on first dates?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
Will glances up, slow and unreadable. “Only the ones who make it hard to look away.”
My heart stutters.
“I wasn’t going to let him kiss me,” I say, quieter now. “If you’re wondering.”
He sets the bottle down. “Wasn’t wondering.”
“Liar.”
Will closes the distance between us in three long strides, stopping just inches from me. His jaw is tight. His eyes flick to my lips, then back to my eyes.
“I saw you walk in,” he says, voice low and rough. “In that outfit. With him. And I’ve been trying to be good. I’ve been trying to stay out of your way.”
He reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair back from my face. His fingers trail behind my ear, soft but electric.
“But seeing you with him? Laughing. Letting him touch you?” His voice drops lower. “Well, I can’t stand to see that.”
My breath catches. “Then why didn’t you say something?”
He leans in, mouth barely a whisper from mine.
“Because you’re not mine to want.”
My fingers tighten in the edge of his shirt. “What if I am?”
Will doesn’t ask again.
He just kisses me.
And this isn’t soft or tentative or safe. It’s hungry. Hot. Messy with years of things unsaid. His hands grip my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I melt, kissing him back like I’ve waited my whole damn life.
Outside, the bar buzzes on. But in here, it’s just us and the storm we’ve been circling for years.
And if he thinks I’m awkward or inexperienced, he doesn’t let it show. There’s no pause, no hesitation. Just the steady pressure of his body guiding mine, step by step, until my back meets the wall with a soft thud. The cool surface is a jolt against my spine, but it’s nothing compared to the heat rolling off him.
His hands are everywhere. One braced beside my head, the other skimming down my side, like he’s trying to memorize the way I feel under his fingertips. I gasp when his lips find the curve of my jaw, and he groans softly, like the sound undoes him.
“Phern,” he murmurs, his voice rough and close, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
I do.
Because I’ve wanted it too.
Even when I shouldn’t have. Even when I told myself I was over him. That I deserved someone uncomplicated. Someone safe.
But nothing about this feels safe. It feels like standing on the edge of something wild, heart pounding, breath short.
“Will,” I whisper, and his name on my lips makes him shudder.
His mouth captures mine again. Deeper this time, slower, like he’s trying to tell me everything he hasn’t said over the years. And I kiss him back with everything I’ve got, clumsy insome places, greedy in others, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on.
