He doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t touch me. He steps away, and I’m left reeling, standing still as everything inside me crashes to a halt. My pulse is thundering in my ears. My chest is tight, and my breath is ragged as I struggle to find my footing in this new, impossible silence.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he says, as dark as the storm in his eyes. “This isn’t a game. This isn’t a challenge. I won’t watch you get hurt because you think you can handle it.”
I stand there, frozen, caught between anger and the overwhelming desire to close the distance between us once more. My hands tremble at my sides, my heart pounding harder than it should. My body wants him again, needs him, even as the frustration burns in my veins.
“Then stop pushing me away,” I hear myself say. The words spill out before I can stop them, and they hit the air like a confession. “Stop acting like I’m an issue for you.”
Ryder’s gaze hardens, his jaw clenched so tight I’m afraid it might break. But there’s something behind his eyes, a flicker of rawness that I don’t quite understand. His body is wound tight, his posture steel, holding back danger.
“I’m not pushing you away,” he says quietly. “And you aren’t an issue. But I do need to protect you.”
His words are a blow to my chest, and I fight the instinct to flinch. I want to tell him I don’t need his protection. I want to scream that I’m not some fragile thing to be shielded. But I can’t. I can’t fight the heat that coils in my stomach, the ache that floods my chest when he speaks like that. I’m not sure if it’s his words or the way his body moves, but everything in me burns for him.
My voice catches in my throat as I try to speak, but it feels like a lie I can’t manage.
“Then let me decide what’s best for me,” I finally say. “I’m not made of glass, Ryder. And I don’t need you to decide what I’m capable of.”
He steps closer again, so close his breath mingles with mine, sending a shiver down my spine. The air between us crackles with tension, and I’m sure he’s holding back. I can feel it in the very marrow of my bones.
Ryder’s eyes darken, the intensity in them almost unbearable.
“You don’t get it,” he whispers. “I’m trying to protect you, even if it means you hate me for it.”
I want to step away, to scream, but I don’t move. My pulse spikes as his presence surrounds me, making everything in me tighten with the need for him. But then, without warning, he pulls back again.
“I’m not pushing you away,” he says softly, but it feels like he’s breaking inside of me. “And you aren’t an issue.”
He turns, his footsteps heavy against the floor, and my heart cracks at the thought of him walking away, leaving me like this.
The door slams behind him, and I’m left standing there, breathless, aching, and uncertain. My skin is on fire, and I’m not sure if it’s the anger or the desire that has me feeling like I’m drowning.
I don’t know what’s happening between us. I don’t know if I want it to continue.
But one thing is certain: I’m left with an emptiness I can’t seem to fill.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ryder
I rollinto town just after sunrise. The mist still hangs in the air, heavy as a warning, but I’ve got no time for any of it. Not today. Today, I’ve got business to handle.
I pull up in front of the sheriff’s office, the truck idling softly in the quiet street, the engine rumbling, waiting for me to make a move. I’m not here for pleasantries, not for coffee, not for small talk. I’m here because trouble’s on the horizon, and I need to make sure Coyote Glen knows it before the shit hits the fan.
Deputy Kurt Morgan is standing by his patrol car, leaning against the hood, playing it cool. I can tell by the way he’s got his uniform pulled just tight enough that he thinks he looks authoritative. It’s a look that’s meant to say,I’ve got this.Too bad the man doesn’t know the meaning of the word “control.”
He waves as I approach, but it’s forced, too eager. I don’t return the gesture. Don’t have the time or the patience.
“Ryder,” he says, trying to sound as if he knows exactly who I am and what I’m here for. “Good to see you again. I hear the place is really taking off.”
I don’t bother with the pleasantries.
“Cut the crap, Kurt,” I snap. “I didn’t come here to talk about the bar.”
He blinks. It’s a momentary flicker of confusion, and I know exactly what’s running through his head.Shit, this guy’s serious.
“I… uh, okay,” he stammers, trying to act a few steps ahead of me. He stands up a little straighter, but it’s all for show, all forced. He doesn’t know how to wear authority. “So, what’s going on? What brings you down here?”
I keep my eyes on him, scanning his movements, checking for weaknesses. If you can’t read a man’s tells, you can’t trust him. Kurt Morgan’s got a few.
