My heavy eyelidsblink open as I adjust to the early morning light streaming in through the gossamer curtains in an unfamiliar place. In the absence of a blaring car alarm or traffic whooshing by, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. I can't see my breath in the chilly morning breeze, nor is my back stiff from a partially deflated air mattress.
Instead of shivering in my meager sleeping bag, I'm perfectly warm under a plush duvet that smells faintly like leather and amber. There’s a rooster crowing somewhere off in the distance, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of the rising sun.
Memories of the night before come rushing back in waves.
Jaxon finding me in my car.
The way he swept me into his arms and whisked me off to the ranch.
The almost kiss.
My hand wanders to my untouched lips. A cascade of warmth skitters across my skin at the thought of what it would be like to kiss Jaxon Hayes. Would it be slow and deliberate, the way he held me in his arms and led me around the dance floor the night we met?
I slip out of bed and pad to the window, marveling at the way the sun crests over the hills, casting an enchanting glow over the pasture beyond the fence. Two horses gallop through the field, their manes blowing on the breeze as their thundering hooves fade into the distance.
If this is a dream, let me never wake up.
My stomach growls, interrupting the quiet contemplation.
I dress quickly in a pair of leggings and an oversized knit sweater, and finger-comb my hair. Last night, after a long debate, I settled for a hot shower before bed instead of the long soak in the glorious clawfoot tub I really wanted. I passed out before I had time to dry my hair, so I’ll be rocking the messy look today. Nobody needs to know it wasn’t intentional.
When I make it to the kitchen, Jaxon’s leaning against the island, looking freshly showered. The way this man wears a pair of bootcut jeans should be criminal.
“Morning,” he says in a deep, gravelly voice. “Sleep well?”
“Better than I have in a long time,” I admit.
He pushes away from the counter and hands me a Whispering Oaks Ranch-branded coffee mug. “One cream and two sugars, right?”
My head snaps up as he correctly guesses my coffee preference. “How did you?—”
“I have a degree in accounting. I know how to put two and two together.”
“Bullshit. Are you some kind of stalker?”
He laughs with his own coffee halfway tohis mouth. Black, by the looks of it. “I read the label on your cup the last time I was at the library.”
“Oh. That makes way more sense.”
He pushes away from the counter, heading straight for the fridge. “Hungry? I was just about to make breakfast.”
“You cook?”
“Learned from the best.” He pulls a carton of eggs and a pound of bacon from the fridge and sets them on the island beside a loaf of sourdough from Catalano’s. “That reminds me. Mama wanted me to invite you to our family dinner next Sunday.”
“Family dinner? Like… with your whole family?”
He places a frying pan on the stove and turns on the element. “That’s usually what family dinner means.”
“I wouldn’t know.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I glance down at the floor, gaze unfocused, clutching the coffee cup like it might stop me from spiraling.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Callie.”
“No. It’s fine. You didn’t know.”
He reaches me in two strides, taking the coffee from my hand and depositing it on the counter. Before I have time to register what’s happening, he’s pulling me into a hug. My hands move of their own accord, returning the gentle embrace.
“I knew.”
