But she wouldn’t hear any of my excuses or even think about entertaining them as she said, “You could’ve woken me up. You could’ve said goodbye, but you didn’t. You just got dressed and slipped out without a word. I mean, my God, at least when Josie left Lincoln in Tennessee, she left a note that said she was sorry, but I didn’t even get that.” Her words were coming fast, and she paused to catch her breath before beginning again. She clutched the back of her neck. “I knew this was gonna happen, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I fucking am. Silly me. I thought that maybe, just maybe, last night would’ve meant something to you, but?—”
“It meant everything!” I bellowed, unable to stop myself. I ran my fingers through my hair as she blinked in confusion. “Jesus Christ, Lennox. I know you think I’m a callous dick, but do you honestly think I’m so cruel that I’d be so devil-may-care with your body? With your heartandmine?”
“Then why did you leave? Why didn’t you text me?” Lennox tried holding her voice steady, but it broke on the last question. “Why didn’t you say anything at all?”
I blew out a breath and hung my head. Bishop, you’re such a fucking idiot.“When I woke up this morning, there were people in the barn. Neither of us had set an alarm, and I heard the hands questioning where I was. I panicked. You got me there, but it wasn’t just for me. It was for you. For us. I didn’t know what people would say if I came traipsing down the stairs from your loft, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to out us without talking to you first.”
“Is there an us? Because you’ve been the one to backtrack every time we’ve tried sorting this out.”
“I don’t know, Lennox! That’s the point. We deserved a chance to sort that out ourselves.”
“But you left!” Lennox stepped forward, cheeks flushed and eyes glowing. “Do you know how cheap I felt waking up thismorning, excruciatingly sore, overly exhausted, and yet ridiculously happy? Until, of course, I realized that you’d snuck out like I was nothing but a cheap fuck,” she shot back, running her hands through her hair. “God, I am so stupid. I can’t believe I actually thought you’d gotten over your bullshit. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
I’d had enough talking. Enough fucking games. I surged forward, bracketing her face with my hands and pulling her closer. Her eyes widened in surprise, but beneath all the bullshit, I saw a spark of hope ignite.
“You are anything but a cheap fuck, Lennox,” I whispered harshly before crashing my lips to hers. She pushed against my chest only for a second before her arms wound around my neck.
Last night was gentle and reassuring, but this was something else entirely. It reminded me of the first night we’d kissed after the bar, how desperate and eager we were for one another. But where there’d once been confusion, I only felt clarity.
And that clarity was Lennox Hayes.
lennox
. . .
The Morning After
Oh God.Everything hurt. Why did everything hurt? I wasn’t even drunk by the time we got home. At least not if we were talking about alcohol.
Bishop and his dick, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.
Sure, I’d only tasted it for a minute before Taco Bell chipped away at my pride. Food poisoning was a bitch, but I was confident in my ability to ask for a chance to redeem myself. Especially after sneaking into the bathroom and freshening up. I know I didn’t take my makeup off before going to sleep. I probably looked like a mess.
I had no idea what time it was, or even where my clothes and purse were, but I didn’t care as I burrowed deeper into his pillow and sucked in a deep breath. He smelled delicious. It was all masculine and rugged—sage and firewood and fresh coffee.
I could picture him sitting in the middle of a wide field in worn chaps, brewing a cup over an open flame before the sun came up. A moment of perfect stillness.
I stretched out, reaching across the bed for his warmth, butfound none. I cracked an eye, hating how bright his room was already. Did he not own curtains?
The spot beside me was empty and looked like it had been for some time. Not completely unsurprising. He wasn’t the type to lounge around in bed all morning, even if we’d both had a long night.
Dad normally cooked breakfast on Sunday mornings, but I was content to skip it if it meant spending more time here. There was something so strange about being in his space. Most of the time when I woke up in a strange place, I hightailed it out of there before the sun came up. I didn’t stay around for awkward conversations or the “should I call you?” conversations. I was never interested in that.
But this morning, I was struggling to get out of bed, and it wasn’t because of a hangover. The awkward, bumbling nineteen-year-old me would’ve died at the thought of being here. Though I’d deny it until the day I died, I was a bit obsessed with Bishop. I might even still have some of my old diaries that featured full blown fantasies about the hot, older cowboy if I looked hard enough.
If only that version of myself could only see where I was now.
“Morning.”
I jumped, clutching the sheets to my chest as I glanced around his room. Bishop was sitting in the corner, eyes dark and hair mussed. It looked like he’d been up all night. He was shirtless, showing off the thick patches of hair along his chest and the small line dipping below his pants. I could make out the general outline of his tattoo, but it was still too dark to see it clearly.
“Hi,” I said, a little breathlessly. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Where else would I be?” he asked, staring down at hishands. Something felt off. Alarm bells were ringing in my head, telling me to get out while I could, but I didn’t listen.
“I dunno, honestly. Your side of the bed was cold, so I assumed you’d gone up to the barn or something,” I chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.
Only he didn’t join in.
