And just like that, I’m alone in the Bradford house.
Well, withCalvin.
I stare at my empty mug of coffee, at the kitchen that isn’t mine, and feel a wild, irrational panic as I think about the last time I was here. I should leave. I should pack up my things and bolt to the safety of my car, because every cell in my body says I am trespassing in a way that is way worse than what I did a few nights ago. HeknowsI’m here, and for some reason, my bravery is feeling less potent with that…
But running isnothow I find Cade.
And before I can decide what to do, the office door opens with a bang that makes me jump. I immediately stand to my feet, suddenly finding the will to move.
Bradford emerges, phone pressed to his ear, and walks straight to the kitchen without seeing me. He pours a glass of water, drinks half in a gulp, then turns and actually flinches when he sees me at the table. He pulls his phone from his ear and shoves it into his pocket.
I force a smile. “Sorry. Molly got called away. I was just getting my things together to leave.” I tuck a strand of my blonde hair that’s fallen out of my clip, and then smooth out my black sweater.
He studies me for a beat, and I have the insane impression that his eyes are like an X-ray machine. “Why did she leave?”
“She said a family thing? Her mom’s?”
His jaw ticks, his eyes trailing down my arms to where I’m white knuckling the essay style guide I brought. “They always have a dinner once a week. I’m sure her mom didn’t want her to miss it. She’s picky about that shit.” His eyes jump back to mine.
“Makes sense,” I choke out. I’m terrified to drop my eyes from his—to take in his broad shoulders beneath his black pearl snap shirt, or the strong quads beneath his dark bootcut jeans.
But my breath hitches the moment his lips part.
“Where did you say you were from?”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “Texas, born and raised.”
He grunts, as if the state itself is a mark against me. “You don’t talk like you’re from Texas.”
“You do.”
That earns me a flicker of amusement in his expression. “I grew up in the eastern part of the state You?”
“Northwest.”
“Like Lubbock?”
My insides go cold, but I don’t let it show. “Dalhart,” I partially lie. I mean, I’ve been there plenty of times. So, that’s good enough.
He nods, cracking his jaw. “And why here?”
I let myself make a face at him. “Why anywhere? Ajob.”
“Huh.” He narrows his gaze. “I guess so.”
The banter, such as it is, goes flat. I break the moment by finishing packing my things and make a show of zipping my bag. This man freaking drains my ability to think, I swear.
“You want to know why I like my job?” he asks, out of nowhere, his voice running down my spine.
I look up, the tension in his gaze unnerving. “Why’s that?”
He steps closer, leaving only a foot or so of space between us. “It’s not about the trees. It’s about the land. See, the land keeps score, always, Dr. Williams. Every cut, every burn, everylieyou put into it—eventually it gives it all back. It shows what’s beneath.”
I stare at him, studying his cold expression. “Maybe that’s true of everything.”
“You’re right. You reap what you sow.” He’s so close now that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He leans forward, and I catch my breath, but as I brace for contact, he picks up a pen I missed.
“Here,” he leans away, holding it out. “You might need this.” He rolls it between his fingers.
