I pressed my fingers to my temples and opened the door slowly, wincing against the morning light.
“Wow,” came Wilder’s low drawl, his voice full of amusement and something else I didn’t want to name. His eyes dragged over me with a lazy thoroughness as he rubbed a hand over the smirk tugging at his perfect mouth.
“What?” I asked, running a hand through my hair like that was the worst part of how I looked. Sweaty strands clung to my fingers, and my scalp throbbed beneath my touch.
“Just…wow.”
He stood there like a walking daydream, light stubble on his strong, square chin, worn jeans slung low on his hips, a shearling-lined jacket open over a moss green Henley that hugged every inch of muscle. His ball cap shaded his eyes, but not enough to hide the spark of amusement. God damn him, how did he manage to look so effortlessly good all the time?
Meanwhile, I was barefoot, braless, and half-baked in regret and alcohol.
“Is there something wrong with one of the horses?”
Wilder’s gaze dragged up my body, slow and blatant, settling on my face with an expression I couldn’t read.
“Why do you look gray?”
“Thanks for the compliment. So, is there?”
He shook his head, mouth twitching. “Sorry, I was distracted by the sight of you.” Then he laughed, deep, low, and guttural, like it had started in his boots and clawed its way up. The sound reverberated through my chest and throbbed behind my eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve seen anything like it before.”
“I don’t have pretty hangovers, so sue me.”
A breeze whistled in off the range and slipped across my bare skin, raising goosebumps and making me aware, painfully, of the thin tank clinging to my body. My nipples tightened against the white cotton, and I crossed my arms quickly. Wilder’s attention shifted, no doubt noticing, his grin sharpening as if it amused him.
“Wilder, what do you want, visiting my cabin in broad daylight?” I asked, more bite in my tone than I meant. The hangover made everything raw. That was all it was. Right?
“Brought you this.” He held up a brown paper bag with the Missy May’s Diner logo stamped on the front and a takeaway cup with steam rising from it. “Hazelnut latte. Jam donut. Hangover survival kit.”
My heart stuttered, one beat skipped; one beat too loud, then settled back into rhythm with an ache I didn’t want to name.
“You went into town and got this for me?” I took the bag like it was breakable, fingers gripping the warm paper like I was holding the edge of something I might fall from.
Wilder shrugged in that effortless, cowboy way, all lazy muscle and maddening ease as he passed over the coffee too.
“Was going anyway.” He gave me another once-over and smirked. “It’s a toss-up between you and Cassidy for who looks worse. She might just have you beat. Unless you’ve puked this morning.”
I shook my head. “What about Lily?”
“Hah! She hasn’t moved. Last I saw, she was still starfishing on the bathroom floor.”
I winced, then looked down at the goodness in my hands. The scent of hazelnut drifted up, warm and sweet. The donut’s glaze was already seeping through the paper of the bag, buttery and sinful andperfect. My stomach clenched, caught between craving and queasy.
“Go eat and drink,” he said, flipping his ball cap backward in that maddening way he knew I noticed.
My stomach clenched again, for an entirely different reason. I wanted to pull him inside. Drag him to bed and pretend last night hadn’t left me aching in ways that had nothing to do with alcohol.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “I appreciate it.”
He gave me a lazy salute. “Anytime, ma’am.”
Closing the door on him felt wrong. Like shutting the world out just as something good was trying to get in. Hungover or not, I could still appreciate perfection when it brought me coffee.
There was nothing like coffee and grease to make you feel better. A hot shower scoured away the last of the cloying stench of alcohol, the fog of regret and the mascara clinging for its life to my lashes. Slipping into my armor of jeans, flannel and scuffed boots, I felt more like myself. Hungover but functional.
Lazy days didn’t do it for me. It was working with horses that lit that fire within me. Dream Maker especially. He was my ignition, my favorite kind of challenge. Hence why on my day off I was heading for the stables.
The second I stepped outside my cabin everything fell into place. The crisp mountain air filled my lungs, elevating my mood and clearing away the remnants of champagne and guilt. The world smelled clean. Pine needles, cattle, horses, a faint trace of woodsmoke curling from the ranch house chimney. It pumped through my veins giving me life. Jump starting mysenses and filling my soul with something better.
