“Oh. Yes. I have them. All of them. The boys like them,” she explains. “Never had a single complaint.Ifyou know what I mean.”
I know exactly what she means. I need a second to collect myself and not cup her cheeks and press my lips to hers to shut her up—and also to see if I have anything to complain about. I glance at the heavens, praying for some self-control.
I can’t kiss her.
First of all, she’s drunk.
Second, she’s Lark.
“Go inside, Lark. Take some medicine, drink another bottle of water, and sleep.”
“I can do that.”
“I’m not so sure, but I’m going to have to trust you.”
Please go now before I do something stupid.
She smiles, her breasts now brushing against my chest. “We should be friends.”
I wrap my fingers around her wrists. “Why is that?” I ask, my voice low and rough.
I’m running out of restraint.
She takes a while, her lips pursing as though she’s lost in her own head.
“Ha!” She slaps my chest. “I know one. Because I’m fun. I’m very nice. I can cook, which other people would disagree with, but I can do it. Also, I like Sadie and her chickens.”
Well, there’s that, I guess. “I see. A solid start for a friendship.”
“I agree. You’d like being friends with me.”
I don’t think I would actually. I think the fact that this girl makes my blood heat just by being close would be a bad thing. Even thinking about getting involved with Lark has more obstacles than climbing Mount Everest. So many places to lose your footing and fall. I’m better off staying far away from her.
I push her back, missing the warmth of her body against mine. “You should go inside, Lark.”
“Right now?” she asks.
“Right now.”
“Okay, but you’re missing out on my skills.”
“I’m very aware. I need you to go to bed now.” My voice is rough.
She steps closer, her hands back on the collar of my shirt, and my chest tightens.
I want her.
So fucking bad.
My hands go to her hips to push her away or pull her close—I don’t know yet. I just can’t seem to resist her.
Her eyes are swimming with desire, the two of us just staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the move. I can feel it between us, pulsing like a heartbeat in the sticky heat of the Colorado summer.
No man would be strong enough to push her away right now, so I lean in, but right as I do, the front porch light flickers on and douses the moment in cold water.
We break apart, her head whipping around to see her father standing there, a well-worn robe wrapped around him that doesn’t quite cover his midsection.
His gaze meets mine, then moves to his daughter, anger clear in his eyes.
