“Because I’m not offering it on loan.”
The words settle deep in my stomach. Heat rises under my skin.
“You’re bold tonight,” I murmur.
He steps even closer now, crowding my space deliberately.
“I’ve been holding back long enough.”
“You’re at work,” I whisper.
He smirks. “I’m off shift.”
“The crew is ten feet away.”
“They already know.”
“Know what?”
His hand brushes my hip lightly, possessive but not crude.
“That you’re mine.”
My breath catches despite myself.
“I’m not something you own,” I say, but it comes out softer than intended.
He leans down, mouth near my ear. “I don’t own you,” he murmurs. “I choose you.”
My knees weaken slightly at that.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sawyer Rivers.”
“I’ve walked into worse.”
I swallow, trying to steady myself. “You used to pretend this wasn’t happening.”
“I was a coward.”
“You weren’t.”
“I was,” he says firmly. “I hid behind duty. Behind grief.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t.” He pulls back slightly so I can see his face.
There’s no shadow there. No conflict. Just certainty.
“Come with me,” he says quietly.
My pulse kicks.
“Where?”
“Just come.”
Before I can overthink it, he takes my hand and leads me toward the back of the bay, near the old picnic tables set up by the open doors. The mountain air drifts in cool and clean.
