"So you've said." One hand went to her hip, drawing my attention to those jeans again. “Multiple times.”
"And I mean it."
"I don’t doubt you do." She tilted her head slightly, those green eyes never leaving mine. "But that doesn't make it true."
My hands flexed at my sides. "You don't understand what you're asking."
"I'm not asking for anything." Her voice stayed calm and controlled. "But I'm also not going to stand here and pretend you don't look at me like you want to do it again."
Her words hit a raw nerve and left me standing there without a single defense except the one I'd been clinging to from the start. And it was wearing thinner every time I saw her.
I could walk away. Dammit, I should walk away. But I didn't.
Instead, I closed the distance between us, caught her jaw in one hand, and kissed her. Again.
She didn't hesitate or pull back or give me time to second-guess myself. Just opened for me, her hands sliding up to grip my shirt, and kissed me back like she'd been waiting for me to stop running.
When I finally forced myself to pull back, I rested my forehead against hers. Both of us were breathing hard.
"This is a hell of a bad idea," I said.
She nodded.
"People are going to talk."
"Let them." A spark of defiance flashed in her eyes.
I was playing with fire, and it was raging out of control. Every time she challenged me, I just wanted her more. And I was done fighting it.
My boots crunched on the gravel as I headed back toward the truck. Waverly followed.
Neither of us said a word while I started the engine. I pulled out of the Thacker’s drive and turned the opposite direction from town.
Waverly didn’t ask where we were going. She just sat back in her seat while my truck ate up the miles between the Thacker’s place and the little line cabin that sat on the far edge of Hollister land. No one used it anymore. No one would see my truck parked out front. No one would know we were there. And I could finally stop pretending that I had any sense of control when it came to Waverly Kincaid.
The cabin sat back from the dirt road, half-hidden by trees and the natural slope of the land. No one came out here unless they meant to. No one but me, and only when I needed space from the ranch, from the weight of the name on the gate, and from the expectations that came with it.
I killed the engine. The silence that followed wasn’t quiet. The wind blew through the trees and Waverly let out a soft breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
She didn’t wait for me to open her door or lead the way. Just stepped out, her boots hitting the dirt, and looked at me like she already knew what she wanted.
I still had time to put a stop to this. Still had time to drive her back to her truck and pretend this little detour never happened. But the way she looked at me with heat in her eyes, like she could see right through every excuse I’d ever made, cemented my boots to the ground.
Her brows lifted in curiosity as she walked past me and up the steps. She didn’t knock.
Just turned the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped inside like she belonged there.
The cabin wasn’t much. An old but functional woodstove sat in one corner with a narrow bed against the wall. My granddad had made the table and two chairs underneath the window decades ago. Dust motes hung in the slanted afternoon light and the air smelled like old wood and the faint trace of the last fire I’d built here, weeks ago.
Waverly turned toward me, her hat already in her hand, her long reddish-brown hair loose around her shoulders. She tossed the hat onto the table, and it landed with a soft thud.
“So, is this where you bring all the girls?” she teased.
“There are no other girls.” I pulled the door closed behind me, unwilling to play any more games. The click of the latch sounded louder than gunfire.
She didn’t move. Her feet stayed planted, like she was giving me one last chance to walk away.
I didn’t take it.
