Page 85 of One Wild Chance

As adamantly as I opposed it then, my body has developed its own opinion on the matter. Some kisses you forget by morning, a passing emotion brought on by a slow dance to a country love song. Others stay with you for years.

Kissing Jaxon Chance would be something I’d remember for a lifetime, and it might ruin me for good.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, studying me.

My cheeks heat as I look away. “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” he says, his lips quirking.

“It wasn’t…”

His thumb swipes my cheek before I can come up with an excuse. “You’re blushing, Wildflower.”

I never did have a good poker face, and he knows it. “It was something Larissa and I were talking about.”

“What’s that?”

I pause, then decide I have nothing to lose by asking him. Maybe it will help quell these butterflies that are multiplying into a full-grown swarm. “Have you ever thought about hate-kissing someone?”

His lips curl at the edges. “Depends on what you mean by a hate kiss. If you mean kissing someone I can’t stand, then no. I wouldn’t kiss someone I didn’t like.” He readjusts his hand on my back and his voice lowers. “But if you mean arguing with someone until the air between you gets so charged, you can’t think straight, and the only thing that would make any sense in that moment is to just stop talking and kiss them?” He holds my gaze. “Then yes. I’ve thought about it.” His heated stare rockets through me. “I’ve just never been brave enough to do it.”

My brows rise. “You, not brave? I can’t believe that.”

One side of his mouth tips, and all I can think about is how much I like this side of him, the mysterious, playful part. “Summer, there are sides of me you don’t know.”

I think of the interview clip Larissa found and how he referred to a girl back home. I want to ask him about it, but I can’t do it here, where half of Golden Springs could overhear.

“How about you?” he asks. “Have you ever hate-kissed anyone?”

“Of course not,” I blurt out. “I’m not going to kiss someone unless we’re compatible.”

“Fair point,” he says. “But have you wanted to, even a little?”

I’m suddenly aware of where my hand rests against him. It seemed so silly when Larissa brought up the suggestion of me hate-kissing Jaxon. Why would I kiss someone who repeatedly irritated me, who thought I’d stolen his land and seemed resentful I was still here?

But now that Jaxon is pressing me for an answer, I realize that wasn’t what she was asking at all. She wanted to know if I’d ever considered that my frustration with the man in front of me could actually be attraction in a different form.

The words stick in my throat. “I…I don’t know.”

Jaxon’s eyes slide from me to somewhere over my shoulder and darken. I turn just enough to see Blaine striding toward us.

“We need to go,” Jaxon mutters, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the opposite end of the dance floor.

“Where?” I ask as we weave through the crowd.

“Wherever we can lose Blaine.” He walks at a brisk pace that looks natural enough not to draw attention. I glance over my shoulder again. Blaine is gaining on us.

I tap his arm. “Uh, Jaxon?”

“What?”

“He’s speeding up.”

He checks behind us, and his jaw tenses. “Summer, can you run in those boots?”

“You want me to what?”

“Run. Faster than Blaine.” As if that’s easy to do. Cowboy boots are made for riding, not running.