She blinks like she’s surfacing. “Tex.”
The way she says my call sign makes my blood run hot.
“You okay?” I ask.
She hesitates. “I… don’t know.”
I take a small step closer, careful not to crowd her. “Talk to me.”
Her eyes flick over my face as if she's trying to find the words in the lines of it. “What we just did—what I did—I wanted…”
She trails off, licking her lips as if she can still taste me too. “I kissed you, and you kissed me and… stuff. Like you meant it.”
I exhale slowly. “I did mean it.”
The wind whistles through the posts. The horses shift. The world keeps moving like it didn’t just change.
Jane’s hands curl into fists at her sides, then relax. Then curl again. Like she’s trying to hold on to control and losing.
I’ve seen that before, in men under fire, in buddies who couldn't decide whether to run or fight. The body processes faster than the brain. She needs time to catch up.
“I’ve never...” she starts, then stops, cheeks flushing hard.
My body reacts immediately. Heat hits me, low and sharp.
I force my voice steady. “Never what?”
She looks away, then back, defiant even while she’s trembling. “Never done anything like that.”
It hits me in the gut. Not because I don’t believe her. Because I do.
The pieces suddenly click. The noise and swagger, the jokes, the chaos. It’s not performance. It’s protection. She keeps people at arm’s length because getting close means getting hurt. Means being seen. Means someone finding out she’s not as invincible as she pretends.
And even though she made the first move, I just blew past every wall she had.
I lift my hands, palms up, visible. An offer, not a grab. “Can I take your hands?”
She looks at my hands like she’s checking for traps. Then she nods and slides her gloved fingers into mine.
I hold her gently, grounding, not trapping. “We should get you warmed up.”
Her breath catches at the contact. “We should... what?”
“Cabin,” I say. “Now.”
Jane opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, then closes it. Her gaze drops to my mouth, then to my hands holding hers.
She nods sharply. “Okay.”
I help her back onto her horse, then swing up onto mine, and we ride back in silence that isn’t silence at all. It’s charged, buzzing, and full of everything I’m trying not to do.
By the time we reach the cabin, I can barely breathe.
I dismount, tie the horses, and turn to help her down.
Jane lets me.
My hands land on her waist, and she makes a small sound that goes straight through me. I set her down slowly and carefully. The second her boots hit the ground, she’s there—too close. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks are flushed, her vanilla scent teasing my nostrils.
