“The worst part is that she’s the complete opposite of me,” she continues. “How could he be into both of us when we’re so different? I made him wait six months before we even… and she probably gave it up the first chance she had.”
Did she just saysix months?
“You made him wait”—I say, because I’m an asshole and I can’t help myself—“six months?”
“Six months,” she says. “You might not know this, but not every woman gives it up on the first night.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t know,” I say, slow and stunned.
She giggles. “I’m worth it.”
And there it is. I can feel blood rushing in places I don’t want it to. I shift my weight, trying to force my dick to chill, but it doesn’t listen. Now I’m stuck in a barn with this woman who’s off-limits, while I’m horny as hell and thinking thoughts I shouldn’t.
She says it without blinking, without doubt, and I’m sure it’s true. She is worth it. I want to say it—want to say it in a way that’ll land, that’ll matter—but instead I just stand there, tongue heavy, throat dry.
Outside, the rain is relentless. Inside, neither of us is going anywhere.
And I can’t tell which is worse—the danger out there, or the danger in here.
ten
Sawyer
The rain hammers the barn’s tin roof, draining out every thought I have. I’ve been pacing a narrow stretch of floor for the past ten minutes, keeping as much distance from Trouble as the space will allow.
“You’re pacing like a caged bull,” he drawls from where he’s leaning against a post. “Just sit down.”
“Not a chance,” I shoot back without looking at him. “First break in this storm, I’m out of here.”
He tilts his hat back, his mouth curving into that cocky grin I hate. “We both know you like bein’ stuck with me. Probably prayin’ it lasts all night.”
I stop just long enough to glare at him. “You must think all women are obsessed with you, don’t you? Fall for the wholetough cowboything? Hate to break it to you, but you’re not my type.”
I turn on my heel—right into a bucket I didn’t see. My foot catches and I stumble. But before I can hit the dirt, Trouble’s hand closes around my arm. He steadies me, grinning like he just saved me from my death.
I suck in a sharp breath, praying he didn’t notice the way my pulse jumped at his touch, and jerk my arm out of his grip like I don’t need saving.
“Oh yeah? What’s your type then?” he asks, moving the bucket out of the way.
I dust myself off like nothing happened and finally drop onto the bale of hay again, staring at the rain coming down in sheets outside. “I used to think it was men like my ex. But I guess I’m still figuring that out.” Not sure why he cares. Not sure why I’m answering his question, either.
He sits down beside me, still towering over me as we sit. “Sounds like your type might be somethin’ different.”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing at him. “After Harrison, that goat who keeps waking me up every morning is starting to look like a possibility.”
Trouble chuckles, low and smooth. “Nah, you don’t want that. You’d be bald. Goats like to eat hair.”
I blink at him. “They do?”
“Mm-hm.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “So, what’s the plan if this thing lasts all night and you’re stuck with me?”
“If it lasts all night,” I say sweetly, “I’ll find a way to take you out and hide the body in the hay.”
He slides one hand along his jaw, thinking. “You’d never be able to pull that off. Not when you keep lookin’ at me like that.”
“And how am I looking at you?” I shoot back, narrowing my eyes.
“Like you’d miss me if I wasn’t around,” he says, low and annoyingly sure of himself.
