Terrifying.
“Thank you,” I said, and stood abruptly, pulling my hand free. Too fast. Too obvious.
But if I didn’t move right now, I was going to do something catastrophically stupid. Like pull her into my lap and find out if she tasted as good as she looked.
Forget every lesson Sarah had taught me about women and trust and promises.
“I should get back to work. Thanks for the help.” I was already moving toward the door. Away from her. Away from the way she made me feel things I’d sworn I wouldn’t feel again.
She started throwing away the supplies she’d used and closing the first aid kit. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
“I will.” Another lie. I wouldn’t. I’d be stubborn enough to bleed out before I asked her for help again.
She smiled and grabbed her laptop. “I doubt that.”
I watched her walk away—watched those hips sway, watched her disappear down the hallway—and waited until I heard the office door close before I let out the breath I’d been holding.
I looked down at my bandaged hand. At the careful, precise wrapping. At the evidence that she’d touched me. Helped me. Taken care of me without being asked.
The worst part was how much I’d liked it.
How much I’d wanted to lean into that touch instead of pulling away.
How much I wanted to go down that hallway, pin her against the desk, and find out what sounds she’d make when I—
No.
Absolutely fucking not.
I put on my coat, grabbed my hat, and headed back to the barn.
But the whole way there, all I could think about was the way her hands had felt on mine.
The way she’d looked at me when she’d made me promise to take care of myself.
The way she’d smiled like she actually gave a damn. The way I wanted to believe the look in her eyes was real.
This was what I’d been trying to avoid for five years.
Letting someone in.
Wanting someone.
Needing someone.
I’d invited Sarah into my life and she’d gutted me. Left me hollow and angry and swearing I’d never make that mistake again.
But Amber Maxwell wasn’t Sarah.
Amber was competent and honest and didn’t seem to want anything from me except a paycheck at the end of the job.
Which somehow made her infinitely more dangerous.
Because I could feel the pull of her every time she walked into a room. I could feel myself thaw, just a little bit.
Which meant I needed to be more careful. Keep more distance. Be harder. Colder.
Be the bastard I’d become.
