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Vivica cuts the engine and climbs out. I straighten up to find her rushing toward me with knitted brows and raindrops clinging to her chin.

“Are you alright?” she asks. “You almost look like you threw your back out.”

“I’m good,” I rasp, heaving another breath into my lungs. “Just exhausted from a day at the ranch.”

She eyes me warily, as if doubting the claim. “Well… thank you for what you did. You didn’t have to help me get out of that pit.”

“True… but what kind of guy would I be if I knew it’d happen and then didn’t check up on you?”

“I guess that could make us even. I helped Buttercup. You helped my car.”

I wipe the rain from my face and let out a short laugh. “Not by a long shot, doc. You don’t get off that easy.”

“That’s as good as it gets with me,” she answers tersely, folding her arms across her chest. “Take it or leave it.”

“Sure. That’s what you say. But we both know you’re holding yourself back.”

Her brows draw even closer. “Am I supposed to know what you mean?”

I take a step toward her, closing the gap between us. “You’ve been doing it since the morning after. Icing me out at the ranch. Barely looking at me. Acting like that night didn’t happen⁠—”

“It was one night, Rhett.”

“One a hell of a night. We both enjoyed ourselves. And you know it.”

“Were you this obnoxious last Friday too and I just didn’t notice?”

“Probably. But you liked it then, and you like it now. That’s what you’re fighting, right? That you like me more than you think you should?”

Her eyes flash and her jaw pulls tighter, mouth opening to fire back a response. Then it closes again as if she realizes she has none.

She’s got no defense. She knows the truth as well as I do.

Blinking against the sheets of rain, her hand grabs at the front of my soaked shirt. Her head tips up toward me, and I meet her the rest of the way.

We come together for a kiss that instantly feels satisfying. Two people who’ve fought hard and decided they can’t do it for another second.

The rain pounds down on us, and neither of us moves to find shelter.

We’re much more preoccupied with each other, our kiss deep and intense and wet from the rain.

When it finally ends, we pull back breathing raggedly, staring at each other.

“How about I give you a lift home?” I say, voice husky. “Your hatchback’s not surviving these roads in this weather.”

Her tongue slips out and distractingly wipes at her plump bottom lip. She gives a slow nod and murmurs, “Sounds like I don’t have many other options. Carpooling it is.”

SEVEN

Vivica

For the record, I had every intention of driving straight home, taking a hot shower, and going to bed alone tonight.

Rhett Dawson’s mouth in the rain put an end to any of those plans.

The drive to my cottage is undercut by the tension simmering between us. We’re mostly silent, sharing occasional glances that speak for themselves.

It’s an awareness there’s no backing down from.