"Power's been flickering all morning," he says, his voice rough. "Figured someone should check on the stock before this gets worse."
I nod, pulling my coat tighter, but it's useless. The rain has found every gap in the fabric, running down my neck in icy rivulets. "Let's start with the barn. The foal especially."
We hurry toward the shelter, but the wind picks up, driving the rain sideways. I stumble on the slick ground, and Wyatt's hand shoots out to steady me, his fingers closing around my arm.
The contact burns through the wet fabric of my coat. He doesn't let go immediately, and for a moment we stand there in the pouring rain, his touch anchoring me against the storm. Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating the sharp angles of his face, the way his eyes drop to my mouth.
"Come on," he says finally, his voice barely audible over the thunder.
Inside the barn, string lights twinkle cheerfully along the rafters, casting warm shadows despite the chaos outside. Someone has hung garland around the stall doors, probably Matty's wife again, and the scent of pine mingles with hay and leather.
I check the foal first, running my hands over her legs, pleased to find the swelling has gone down significantly. She nickers softly, nuzzling my palm, and I smile despite the tension coiling through my body.
"She's healing beautifully," I tell Wyatt, who's been watching me work with that unnerving intensity. "You've been taking good care of her."
"Had good instructions."
The compliment, simple as it is, makes warmth spread through my chest. I busy myself checking the other animals, acutely aware of Wyatt moving through the barn behind me, his presence a constant heat at my back.
When I finish with the last horse, I turn to find him closer than expected. Close enough that I can see the water droplets clinging to his dark lashes, smell the rain and leather scent of his skin.
"They're all fine," I manage, my voice coming out breathier than I intend. "The storm shouldn't affect them as long as they stay dry."
He nods, but doesn't move away. If anything, he steps closer, backing me against the stall door. The wood presses against myspine, solid and unyielding, trapping me between the barn wall and six feet of dangerous cowboy.
"You're soaked," he says, reaching up to touch a strand of wet hair clinging to my cheek.
His fingers are warm against my cold skin, and I shiver at the contact. "So are you."
Lightning crashes outside, closer this time, and the lights flicker. In the momentary darkness, I feel more than see him lean closer, his breath warm against my ear.
"I can't stop thinking about yesterday," he admits, his voice low and rough with want.
My pulse pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "Wyatt..."
"Tell me to leave you alone, Emmy. Tell me you don't want this."
Instead of answering, I reach up and frame his face with my hands, feeling the rough stubble scratch against my palms. His eyes close at the touch, and he leans into it like a man starving for contact.
"I can't," I whisper. "I've tried."
That breaks something loose in him. His mouth crashes down on mine, hungrier than before, desperate with three days of pent-up want. I kiss him back just as fiercely, my hands fisting in his wet shirt, pulling him closer.
He presses me harder against the stall door, his body a solid wall of heat against mine. His hands roam my sides, finding the hem of my sweater and sliding underneath to touch bare skin. I gasp at the contact, arching into him.
"You're freezing," he murmurs against my lips, his warm palms spanning my ribs.
"Not anymore."
He groans at that, lifting me easily so my legs can wrap around his waist. The new angle brings us flush together, and Ican feel exactly how much he wants me through the wet denim. It makes my head spin with need.
His mouth finds that sensitive spot below my ear, the one he discovered yesterday, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. His hands slide higher under my sweater, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through my bra, and I nearly come undone right there.
"Wyatt, please," I breathe, not even sure what I'm begging for.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with desire. "Please what?"
Before I can answer, his phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the intimate bubble we've created. We freeze, breathing hard, the spell broken.
