In the aftermath, we clung to each other, both of us breathing hard in the moonlit gloom of the tack room. Dan's weight rested against me, his forehead pressed to my chest as if he needed the support to remain standing. I wrapped my arms around him,marveling at how perfectly he fit against me despite our size difference.
"That was..." he started, then laughed softly against my shirt. "I don't even have words."
I ran my hand up and down his back, feeling oddly peaceful despite the intensity of what we'd just shared. "Didn't know it could feel like that," I admitted quietly.
Dan tilted his head up to look at me, his expression serious despite the flush still coloring his cheeks. "It doesn't, usually," he said. "Not unless it's with someone who matters."
The simple statement lodged in my chest like a warm stone. I mattered to him. Not as a problem to solve or a burden to bear, but as a man, a partner.
We cleaned up as best we could with an old rag I found hanging on a hook, then rearranged our clothing in comfortable silence. Before I opened the door to let us back into the night, Dan pulled me down for one more kiss, this one gentle and lingering.
"That's just the beginning," he murmured against my lips. "There are so many ways I want to show you how much I want you. More kisses, more of what we just did, and deeper pleasures when you're ready."
The promise sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cool night air when we stepped outside. We walked hand in hand toward his truck, the gravel crunching beneath our boots. Above us, stars filled the sky like spilled sugar, countless and brilliant in the clear country night.
At his truck, Dan turned to face me one last time. "See you at dawn," he said, his voice carrying a certainty that eased the ache of watching him leave.
"I'll be waiting," I replied, meaning it in ways that went far beyond tomorrow's plans.
As his taillights disappeared down the driveway, I stood for a moment longer, my body still humming with the memory of his touch. Whatever dangers tomorrow might bring with the poachers, whatever challenges we still faced with Ma and the town's opinions, I knew one thing for certain.
I wasn't alone anymore. And neither was he.
Chapter Fourteen
~ Daniel ~
My body hummed with lingering desire as I gripped the steering wheel, Harlow's taste still on my lips. The memory of his sounds, his touch, his scent clung to me like a second skin.
I'd never felt this way before—this mix of pure wanting and something deeper, something that scared me more than any criminal I'd faced.
I kept checking my rearview mirror, not just from professional habit, but from the certainty that something this good couldn't last without the universe demanding payment.
The dark country road stretched before me, the headlights carving a narrow path through the night. My palms were slick against the wheel, my heart still racing like I'd sprinted a mile.
Every nerve ending felt alive, hypersensitive.
I adjusted in my seat, my body still responding to the memory of Harlow on his knees, his massive hands gentle on my hips, his eyes wide with wonder and trust. Christ, what that man did to me without even trying.
I'd had relationships before—casual encounters and a few attempts at something more. But nothing had ever hit me this hard, this fast.
Harlow McKenzie was unlike anyone I'd ever met. The way he saw the world, the way he saw me—like I was something precious and rare instead of just another uniform passing through his town.
How had this happened so quickly? How had this gentle giant slipped past every defense I'd built?
The memory of his whispered words in the tack room—"I'll be waiting"—sent another surge of heat through me. But along with it came a colder feeling, a creeping dread. The people who'dtried to kill me were still out there. And now they knew I was onto them.
They knew I'd involved the McKenzies.
The lights of town appeared on the horizon, pulling me back to reality. I needed to focus, to be Deputy Latham instead of just Dan for the next few hours. I'd promised equipment for tomorrow's surveillance, and that meant a stop at the station before heading home.
The sheriff's department was quiet this late, just the overnight dispatcher visible through the front window. I used my key to enter through the side door, nodding at the dispatcher as I passed his desk.
"Burning the midnight oil, Latham?" he asked, barely looking up from his crossword puzzle.
"Forgot my gym bag," I replied, the lie coming easily. I moved toward the supply room, listening for his response.
"Don't work too hard," he called after me, already returning to his puzzle.
