His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth and a slow smile curved on his. “But you? You’re fiery. You’re alive. Sometimes, I think I say things to piss you off just because I love it when you get that look on your face that tells me you’re coming up with something cutting to throw back at me.”
My chest suddenly felt weird, like someone had reached inside me and twisted everything. He’d said it so easily, like it was obvious, like it wasn’t the kind of thing I’d replay in my head for the next decade.
“I gave you the ring because you’re the only woman I’ve ever met who I felt was worthy of wearing it,” he finished softly. “For the record, if Ihadgiven her that ring, I would never have givenit to you. You’reyou, Charlotte. I could never have recycled the symbol of my commitment to you.”
For a long second, I couldn’t breathe or think past the roar of blood in my ears. I’d spent my whole life trying to figure out how to occupy space instead of accidentally shrinking out of it. I’d taken whatever crumbs of affection my father had parceled out and pretended they were enough. I was constantly, desperately trying to figure out how to stand tall in a world I was unprepared for. How to find my footing and be who I was instead of who everyone wanted or expected me to be.
It meant everything to me to know he’d not only noticed me or gotten to know me in a way no one else did, but that he’d seen it all and still decided I wasworthy. Which was probably why I opened my stupid mouth.
“Why didn’t you kiss me under the mistletoe?”
Trent’s hand paused on my face.Of all the questions I could’ve asked. Of all the moments I could’ve chosen to poke him, why the fuck did I choose to do it now?
He exhaled, his thumb brushing my cheekbone before he pulled his hand back to grip the steering wheel. “Everyone was watching and I got nervous.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not a real answer.”
He laughed, but the sound was resigned. Like he’d known I wouldn’t let it slide. “What do you think people would have thought about the princess of Chicago kissing a cowboy from Texas?”
I held his gaze, my heart thudding so hard I could feel it in my teeth. His jaw ticked once, then again, the muscle jumping like he hated the words even as he said them, but he didn’t look away and neither did I.
I then realized that he wasn’t just asking a question. He was telling me exactly how much I mattered to him.
For a really meaningful change,hewas the one who needed reassuring, and although I knew I probably should’ve, I didn’t swallow my feelings. I didn’t hold back or try to calculate what version of me would please him the most. I just leaned across the console and kissed him.
It wasn’t delicate or practiced. It wasn’t even entirely graceful. I hit my elbow on the cupholder and had to brace my hand against his jaw to steady myself, but it was mine. Ours, and for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t care who saw, or what they’d think, or whether it made me reckless or unlikable, or too much.
His lips were warm and surprised for half a second, then he was smiling into the kiss. I pulled back just an inch, my forehead still touching his.
“There,” I whispered. “Now they can think whatever they want.”
“Let them, huh? That’s what we’re going for? I like it.” His smile widened, slow, lazy, and entirely self-satisfied. “Now that we’ve gotten the insignificant parts of my past out of the way, we’ve got a few things to talk about that actually concern the here and now. Starting with the fact that we have to go back to Chicago.”
I blinked. “We do?”
“Yeah.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat and rubbing a hand over his jaw. “This thing, being down here in Texas with you, I love it. A hell of a lot more than I expected to, but I do also live here. My work is here. My family. I need to be here most of the time.”
He hesitated, like he was bracing for me to scoff or argue. “If you want to live separately?—”
“No.” The word came out fast, without even thinking about it, but I didn’t take it back. “No, Trent. I like it here. The quiet.The space. The fact that my hair smells like cedar and sunshine instead of city smog. I like your people. The city. The ranch.”
I like you,I almost said, but he already knew. I was sure of it.
His whole body deflated with relief, sinking deeper into the seat. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, but I do want something to do. Something that’s mine. I don’t want to just be the girl in your house.”
He laughed, a short, disbelieving puff of air as he tilted his head back. “You want something to do.”
“Yep.”
He dropped his head forward again, his eyes narrowing on me like he was trying to figure out how I could possibly be so oblivious. “Lord, help me.”
“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.
He leaned back and stretched his legs out, looking put upon in the most dramatic, cowboy way possible. “Am I ready for a wave of southern women to start clamoring for your attention?”
I stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
