"This isn't—" He stopped, jaw working. "I'm not trying to make this harder than it needs to be."
"I know." I pierced another bite with my fork and looked up at him. "But you're the one who keeps bringing it up. I'm fine leaving it alone."
His eyes searched mine, and for a moment I thought he might say something else. Maybe something real, like admitting he felt the same pull between us that I did. But he didn't. He just looked at me without saying another word, then finally set his empty mug down on my table.
“Let me know when you have that address for tomorrow.”
“I will.”
He nodded, then turned to go. I forgot all about the chicken pot pie and watched him push through the door and step out into the mountain air.
He wanted control. Wanted to hide behind all the careful lines he'd spent his life drawing between himself and anything that might crack the foundation he'd built. But control only worked when both people agreed to the rules, and I hadn't agreed to anything except what I was willing to give.
When I’d finished eating, I paid the check, left a generous tip for the gal who’d kept the refills coming, and climbed into my truck. I drove down Main and left the town and the rumors behind.
The valley stretched out ahead of me, wide and open, and I drove without thinking about where I was going. Tanner thought he could manage what had started between us, but whatever neat little box he wanted to shove this into, it was already too late.
The kiss had happened. The tension had built. And no amount of careful control was going to put it back where it came from.
I wasn't going to push him, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to chase him. But I wasn't going to back down either. If that made him uncomfortable… well, that was his problem to solve.
CHAPTER 5
TANNER
I pulled up to the campground where Waverly was staying at ten o'clock on the dot. She was already waiting for me, leaning against the side of her truck with her arms crossed and her hat pulled down low over her eyes. She pushed off when she saw me and headed my way.
I’d offered to pick her up since I had to pass by the campground and there was no sense in both of us wasting gas, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to handle sitting next to her for the forty-five-minute drive.
Before I could decide whether I should get out and open her door for her, she climbed into the passenger seat. She had on another pair of jeans that looked like they’d been painted right onto her skin, and as soon as her ass hit the seat, the scent of warm sugar drifted over. I tried to swallow but my mouth had gone bone dry.
“Good morning,” I said, keeping my eyes on the dash.
“Morning.” She pulled her seatbelt on, and the metal clicked into place. “Thanks for the ride.”
I didn’t want her thinking I’d gone out of my way or make a big deal out of us riding together. “Had to drive right past to get there. Makes sense that we’d ride together.”
“Well, I appreciate it anyway.” Her voice was light and friendly, like we hadn’t butted heads last night at the café.
“So we’re going to check out the sorrel mare this morning?"
"Yeah." She nodded, settled back against the seat, and didn't say anything else.
“There’s an extra coffee if you want it.” I gestured toward a paper cup sitting in the second cupholder.
“Thanks.” She reached for it, giving me a genuine smile as she did. Something inside my chest tightened.
I kept my eyes on the road after that and my hands steady on the wheel. This was how things between us needed to be. We could be nice to each other without crossing a line. There was no room for anything that didn't belong, like that kiss that had come out of nowhere and rocked my carefully constructed world.
The kiss had been a mistake… a serious lapse in judgment I wouldn't repeat. And if I kept my focus where it belonged, on the horses, on the work, on the reputation I'd spent years building, then everything else would fade into the background.
That was the plan. But twenty minutes was a long time to sit in silence with a woman who made silence feel louder than it should. She didn't fidget. Didn't pull out her phone or try to make small talk to fill the space between us.
She just sat there, staring out the windshield like she didn't need anything from me except what I'd already agreed to give. That should have made things easier. Instead, it made me hyperaware of every shift in her posture, every little sigh, and every time her gaze drifted toward the window and then back toward me. I tightened my grip on the wheel and focused on the road.
The Thacker place sat about twenty-five miles outside of town. They had a little over fifty acres of open pasture, a weathered but solid barn, and an outdoor pen where a gorgeous sorrel mare waited for us.
Dusty, their ranch hand, met us at the gate. "She's warmed up and ready," he said, gesturing toward the pen. "Take your time and come find me if you need anything."
