Her eyes opened halfway, green and slow. “You’re staring,” she murmured.
“Getting my house rules in order.”
She smiled, lazy and satisfied. “Pretty sure I rewrote those tonight.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Pretty sure you did.”
Her lashes fell. A breath later, her body grew heavy with complete, boneless trust. I set my towel aside and stood, allowing the room to settle around the shape of her beneath my covers, the faint perfume, the soft sound of her sleeping.
I crossed to the window, bare feet whispering over the floorboards. Outside, Lucky Ranch stretched endlessly under the Montana night, fences running like ribs across the dark fields, the security light throwing a soft glow into the yard.
The sight should’ve grounded me. Instead, it dragged me backward. To another night halfway around the world, another set of hands, another promise I couldn’t keep.
Intensity had always been easy—raw, reckless, blazing hot. Sticking. Staying. Letting someone close enough to see every scar and shadow I carried. That was the fight I never won, and no matter how much I wanted her, I couldn’t believe she’d ever really be mine.
I braced a hand against the window frame, breath fogging the glass. Lilly was already past every line I swore no woman would cross again. And the hell of it was, I wasn’t angry about it. I wanted her here. In my bed. In my house.
That was the problem.
I forced myself to turn back, to look at her one last time. Curled beneath my blanket, silk negligée in a pile in the bathroom, she looked like a secret I couldn’t keep if I tried.
And I knew then: whatever came next, I was already too far gone for turning back.
Chapter Five
Things I Couldn’t Admit
Lilly
My eyes snapped open to darkness. I didn’t know where I was for a moment—the sheets beneath me smooth and cool, the mattress too firm, the ceiling too high. Then I felt it. The steady weight of an arm slung heavy around my waist, the heat of a body pressed close to mine.
Sawyer.
The clock on his nightstand glowed 4:52. Too early for anyone in Lovelace to be awake, except maybe ranchers and insomniacs, which made me the latter.
I held my breath and tilted my head just enough to look at him. He was still asleep, his face softened, mouth parted slightly. No shadows in his expression, no sharp edges. Just peace. It caught me off guard. I didn’t know men like him could look anything but guarded.
I told myself to move. Get up, get dressed, get out before he woke up. This was supposed to be simple, like it had been inHawaii—heat without the fallout. Not mornings like this, with my heart trying to climb into my throat.
I slid carefully out from under his arm, easing myself off the bed. The floor was cold against my bare feet, a shock that kept me focused. I scooped my negligée off the bathroom floor, slipped it back on, then pulled my coat around me. The silk brushed against my skin under the rough wool, sending an unwanted ripple of heat low in my belly.
No. Not now.
I didn’t need another reminder of whatusfelt like.
I bent for my purse, ready to bolt. Then?—
“Lilly?” His voice, low and rough with sleep, stopped me mid-step.
I froze, coat half-buttoned, purse strap dangling from my shoulder. “Hey,” I whispered, turning just enough to see him push up on one elbow, hair a mess, eyes heavy but sharp now.
“You’re leaving?” His voice carried no accusation, just surprise.
“I have to,” I said quickly, fumbling with the last button on my coat. “Sunny’s waiting on me. And I’ve got to open the shop.”
“Who’s Sunny?”
“My dog,” I whispered, aware that we really didn’t know each other. Maybe that would come later, or maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, I couldn’t get enough of the part of Sawyer I was sampling.
