“Worth it,” I say, tugging her into my chest for one last kiss. Her hands loop around my neck, lips brushing mine faintly before she pulls away with a small smile.
She pulls on her jeans and a loose T-shirt.
We head downstairs, her curls bouncing with each step. In the kitchen, she goes straight for the fridge, pulling out the foil-wrapped sandwiches she made last night.
“Told you I was thinking ahead,” she says, peeling them open and setting them on a pan to warm.
I grab two glasses from the cupboard, fill them with cold juice, and set them on the table.
The hum of the stove fills the quiet, along with that familiar ache in my chest that hits whenever I’m near her like this.
When the sandwiches are warm, she brings the plates over, but before she can sit across from me, I reach for her waist and tug her into my lap instead. She squeaks a little, hands bracing against my shoulders, then melts into me like she always does.
“You’re trouble,” she murmurs.
I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Can’t believe you made these last night just so we could steal a few more minutes.”
Her grin is smug. “You know I’m a planner, Billy.”
“And I love you for it,” I say, without thinking, because it’s the truth.
Her eyes go softer. Not shy—just warm, like I’ve given her something she’s been waiting to hear. She kisses me again, slow and sweet, her fingers threading through my hair.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” I murmur, mouth brushing her lower lip.
“Same,” she whispers back.
We kiss until I feel myself forgetting the outside world entirely, until her breath starts hitching and she shifts on my thighs in a way that makes me want to throw the sandwiches out the window and haul her upstairs again.
“Sedona…” I groan against her mouth.
She giggles breathlessly. “Eat before you go.”
“Fine,” I mutter, resting my forehead against her shoulder before nudging the plate closer. “But you’re making it very hard, sweetheart.”
She kisses my cheek, hops off my lap, and finally sits across from me. We eat, though half the time she catches me looking at her and blushes.
Moments like this almost make me forget the world outside this house.
Almost.
CHAPTER TWO
Billy
By the timeI pull up to the barn that evening, the sky’s gone the color of burnt peach, shadows stretching long across the ranch. The horses snort from their stalls, the smell of hay thick and familiar.
Tex and Joey are leaning against the partition, arguing about something involving fence posts, while Seth sweeps up stray straw with Boone trotting at his heels.
“How’d it go at the dip?” I ask, hanging my hat on the hook.
Joey rolls his eyes. “Slow as hell because somebody”—he aims his thumb at Tex—“didn’t sort the heifers right.”
Tex flicks him in the chest. “Maybe if someone wasn’t staring at his phone the whole time?—”
“It was one message,” Joey snaps.
Seth steps between them. “You both were fine. They finished on time.”
