When I pass behind him, my shoulder brushes his arm. My breath catches, and for half a second, Iswearhe leans into it.
This is all we have—stolen moments carved out in plain sight.
It’s unbearable. And perfect. And not nearly enough.
The table is feet away with a perfect view into the kitchen. Every move we make feels watched. Dangerous.
I glance into the dining room. Heath is at the table, studying the newspaper in his hand. Emmett’s nursing a mug of coffee, looking like last night got the best of him. Lydia hums softly to herself as she chews a piece of bacon, while Landon is standing at the kitchen island, biting into a fresh peach.
The spoon clinks against the mug as I stir in the creamer, and my eyes find Wesley’s again. Laughter from the table pulls my attention away from him, but I know his eyes never leave me.
No one else seems to notice the weight of my emotions. How I desperately want to tilt my chin up and kiss him until the world stops spinning.
The moment fractures as a wet, obnoxious slurp echoes across the kitchen, peach juice dripping down Landon’s wrist as he licks it away.
Wesley shoots him a glare but Landon grins, holding his hands up in a show of innocence.
“Crazy coincidence, huh?” Landon smirks. “Sadie wasn’t in her room this morning. Wes’s door was locked …So weird.”
“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole,” Wesley mutters under his breath.
Landon chuckles, tossing the peach pit in the garbage. “Alright, alright, I’m done. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
He backs toward the door, still grinning, like pissing off his best friend was his only goal.
When he’s gone, Wesley leans a little closer, his voice low. “Did you mean it?”
Stalling, I bring my mug to my lips, taking a slow sip. “What?”
“What you said last night … about proving it.”
The noise fades and my fingers tighten around my mug.
“Yeah,” I murmur, feeling heat crawl along my spine. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
He nods once, controlled, eyes flicking over to the table before looking back at me. “Okay.”
It’s not everything.
But it’s more than I expected.
And it feels like the start of something more. Something real.
Thesummerheatisbrutal as I walk along the path to the barn. I’m almost halfway there when Heath pulls up alongside me in his truck.
“Morning,” he calls. “You mind being an extra set of hands over at the training pen?”
“Don’t mind at all. I’d never pass up an opportunity to get out of shoveling horse shit. Respectfully.”
“Great.” He laughs, giving a quick wave as he drives off.
I head in that direction, fussing with loose hairs that have fallen out of my bun behind my ears.
The training pens are tucked just beyond the barn—wide, round enclosures flanked by metal rails and layered in churned-up dirt.
Like a magnet, my eyes find Wesley the moment I round the corner.
He’s inside a pen, moving slowly, his shoulders tense. All his focus is locked on the horse trotting just a few feetaway. Outlaw’s muscles ripple beneath his dark coat, wild and beautiful and mean as hell. He tosses his head, flaring his nostrils and kicking at the dirt, daring Wesley to come closer.
