Page 134
“Exactly,” I said, nodding as if this were a perfectly reasonable argument. “I’m thriving. It would be irresponsible to leave at this point.”
“Despite that,” he said, setting the plate down, his mouth curving just enough to tell me he wasn’t even slightly convinced, “I’m still going to suggest something that doesn’t come with a nap schedule and a pen as your primary supervisor.”
I stared at him, processing. He had to mean a job on the ranch. “Okay. Important question. Does this job involve goats?”
He blinked. “Why would it involve—”
“Because,” I cut in solemnly, “I need to emotionally prepare if there’s even a chance I’ll be chased, headbutted, or publicly judged by livestock again.”
Sterling’s mouth twitched. “No goats.”
I sagged with relief. “Good. Because I don’t think I can survive another animal with a personal vendetta.”
“I promise you’re safe from that. I think this job will suit you.” He slid a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast toward me.
His eyes lifted to mine, open and unguarded in a way that felt more dangerous than any other look he’d given me before. Something careful moved through his expression. It wasn’t expectation…but more like hope held loosely, like he didn’t want to scare it off.
“Assuming,” he added quietly, “that you’ll be staying a little longer.”
The kitchen went quiet except for the soft tick of the old wall clock and the low crackle of bacon grease cooling in the pan. The air between us thickened, charged like the moment before a storm breaks.
I couldn’t look away.
His blue eyes pinned me in place, searching, waiting, and suddenly every reason I had for leaving lined up in my head like soldiers ready to march me out the door.
California. The plan.
The clean escape I’d promised myself after everything that had gone wrong. The sensible voice listing reasons like a ledger.
You don’t stay in strange towns with strange men.
You don’t change your life over chemistry and bacon and the way someone looks at you as if you’re the answer to a question they’ve been asking their entire lives.
You don’t ignore red flags just because they look good shirtless and make you feel seen.
My pulse thrummed in my throat. My fingers tightened around the warm mug.
Run, the smart part of me whispered. Before he learns who you really are.
But the rest of me, the part that had swum under that Montana sky in the clearest water I’d ever seen and felt free, the part that was still sore between my thighs from how thoroughly he’d ruined me last night, the part that had woken up wrapped in his arms feeling safe for the first time in years, the way his hidden darkness seemed to call to mine…it screamed louder.
Stay.
His gaze never wavered, and it was patient and predatory all at once, like he could wait forever, but he was also willing to drag me across the table and fuck the answer out of me.
I swallowed, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, and met his gaze. “I’ll—” I began softly. “I’ll think about it.”
The hope in his eyes ignited into something fierce and determined, and fuck if my heart didn’t flip over at the sight.
Mine, his expression said, clear as any growl.
And for once, I didn’t want to argue.
Because maybe, just maybe, I was starting to believe I could be his, too.
CHAPTER 34
SIENNA
