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“Morning.” I set a cup of coffee on the nightstand, then sit down on the bed next to Delilah.
Rolling over in the sheets, she blinks up at me from beneath long lashes. “Morning.”
I hesitate, then…
Fuck it.
I lean down and kiss her. She looks gorgeous, hair mussed, pouty lips. Her hands go to my cheeks, pulling me down to her lips.
“Darlin’,” I murmur, “you get me back in this bed, we’re never leaving.” My cock jerks at the idea, but Delilah gasps and pulls away from me.
“What time is it?”
“Almost eight.”
“Shit.” She launches out of bed and hunts around the bedroom for her clothes.
“Where you headed?” I pull the hem of the T-shirt she wore to bed closer to me as my hand slides over the soft skin of her thighs.
“Straight to the distillery.” Twisting into me, she gives me a look. “I need to scrub that tasting room before we open. Either that or burn it to the ground.”
Chuckling, I slap her ass. “I’ll help.”
“No, it’s okay.” She extricates herself from my hold, shoos me with her hand. “Go do cowboy things.”
It’s what I planned to do. Round up the cattle, then tackle the fence on the north side before heading to the Coop. But because of Delilah, it’s a later than expected start. Not that I mind. I slept better than I deserved last night.
As she slips on her dress and panties, I grab my Stetson from the dresser, settle it on my head. I tilt my hat toward her, watch a gorgeous flush bloom on her cheeks.
“I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah. You will.”
She gives me a flirty little smile, then I kiss her lips and walk her out.
We part ways, Delilah heading to the distillery and me to the homestead, when I see Warren’s car parked in the driveway.
The cool morning air is crisp on my skin, but I soon trade it for the smell of coffee as I shove up the steps of the creaky old house and enter the front door.
Uncle Vaughn, Warren, and Ezra stand around the window that overlooks the creek. I pour myself a cup of coffee, then join them.
“Whiskey?” Vaughn lifts a gray brow in expectation.
I hesitate, then say, “No. Not today.”
“You’re in a good mood,” Warren observes.
“Have anything to do with Delilah leaving your house this morning?” Ezra shrugs off the glare I shoot him. “Bugs saw it. She’s on sleepover alert.”
I sigh. Great. Even my five-year-old niece knows I got laid.
“We got it out of our systems.”
Ezra sets his coffee cup down beside his laptop. “That’s the lie of the century if I ever heard one.”
“Never works, Cole.” Warren’s tone kicks over into know-it-all big brother. “Not when you got a girl who looks like that on your ranch. You’re gonna go back for seconds, thirds, and before you know it, you’ll be in over your head.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am in over my head. Maybe last night was a mistake. Feelings are the last thing I need. Yet I don’t know if staying away is an option anymore.
