I look up in time to see where my words wound him. I instantly regret them, but it’s too late. His face is hard again as he sits up, rubbing his hands over his face.
“You must do this with all the tourists. How could I be such a fool?” The storm sounds distant now as I shove into my boots, standing in the wreckage of my own bad judgment.
Buddy shifts in his stall and looks at me like he knows.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
I know better. He said it himself. Just once.
But that was before I learned what it felt like to be in his arms. And now the truth is a live thing under my skin.
Once was never going to be enough.
Not for me.
I stare at him for one breathless moment, biting my bottom lip hard. Shame sliding through me.
I open my mouth to speak. Can’t find the words.
Instead, I tuck my shirt back in, smoothing the front. Then, I open the door to the barn, stepping out, attempting to hold my head high, though I swore I’d never fall for another rambler.
Chapter
Eight
DAKOTA
Iwake before the sun.
For a second, I don’t remember where I am. The scent of hay and leather settles around me, and everything rushes back at once.
The storm. The barn. Levi’s hands on me. His mouth on mine. The way he said my name like it had weight.
Heat rises under my skin all over again. I turn my head, snuggling into the cool cotton sheets of my bedroom. I drift off again.
This time he’s there, a few feet away, already standing. He doesn’t close the distance or reach for me. Just stands there.
The air shifts immediately.
Last night feels close enough to touch, and somehow already gone.
Breakfast proves it. My eyes dart around the room, making out familiar faces. Carl and Lucinda, the owners of this place. The guys who work the ranch—Wes and Zeb, Carson and Garrett and other familiar faces whose names I can’t recall.
Until I see him, standing back in the corner. Face morose and guarded, arms crossed hard over his chest.
Impenetrable.
That’s the only word that fits this cowboy.
I head straight for him. Can’t say why, hands clutching a chipped white mug filled with coffee that warms my hands.
Levi drags a hand over the back of his neck and looks anywhere but at me. “Storm officially passed about an hour ago.”
My chest tightens, small and sharp.
It isn’t good morning. Or are you alright. It isn’t anything.
“Okay,” I say. My voice sounds steady enough.
