My eyes go wide, and I whip my head around, checking to make sure nobody is close by. “What are you doing?” I hiss. “Someone might hear you.”
“Easy. I’m talkin’ about getting this damn enclosure built. It’s gonna be a bitch in all this mud.”
“Oh.” I bite my bottom lip and offer him the coffee I made as reparation. “Right.”
He eyes me, wrapping his hand around the travel mug. “A little on edge this morning, are we?” he asks, dimples popping.
His lips curl over the rim of the mug, and I shouldn’t still be thinking about that kiss in the barn—or how we almost got caught. Or what I did to him in the bedroom while everyone else was right downstairs, thesounds I pulled from him, the way I made him feel as good as he made me feel.
And I’d love to say I’m not still thinking about his text from last night, but it’s been playing on a loop in my head ever since I read it. After hours of thinking about all the different ways this man could make me come, I’m a restless, horny mess when my mind should be on the task at hand.
I am the queen of compartmentalization. I should be able to tell him thatno, of course I’m not on edge. I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much. Cool as a cucumber.
But I can’t shake the way he lights me up and makes me feel wanted—like I’m more than just Wes’ little sister to him now. Like I matter.
My brain trips over itself as I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. How does he make something as innocuous as drinking coffee look sexy?
He arches a brow.
“Not on edge,” I lie.
I’m hovering right on the peak ever since yesterday, a breath away from falling.
He calls me on my bullshit. “Liar.”
I pretend my hair needs refixing—taking it down and putting it back up exactly as I had it.
“I realized something last night,” I finally say.
Tripp shifts his weight, eyes narrowing slightly as his smile fades.
“What’s that?” he asks.
I take a drink of my coffee, glancing back at the yard we’re supposed to be building an enclosure in. The thought’s been weighing on me, a niggling worry at the back of my mind.
“It won’t be me Wes is mad at if he finds out. It’ll be you.”
The air between us stills, heavy and weighted.
Tripp’s eyes settle on mine, a softness lingering in his gaze as his voice cuts through the quiet. “Yeah. I figured that out before I kissed you the first time.”
I open my mouth to tell him how crazy it is—how maybe he shouldn’t jeopardize his friendship over something fleeting. But he cuts me off before I can say a word.
“I wouldn’t change a damn thing though. You’re worth it.”
I study his face. He looks so sure. So certain. Like he has no doubt that he wants this—that he wantsme.
It jumbles everything in my brain, all my carefully organized compartments spilling their contents. The words I want to say are scrambled, and I’m stuck wondering if this is just physical or if our past is so tangled up in the present that emotions are bound to get involved.
I want to believe I can keep it simple. That I can keephimsimple. Just sex. Just a phase. Just something to get out of my system.
But I’m kidding myself if I think anything about Tripp has ever stayed in a neat little box.
“Should we get to work?” he asks, interrupting my internal battle.
I nod, my body still buzzing.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound normal. “Let’s build this thing.”
