Page 38 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“And your brothers⁠—”

“Will have opinions no matter what I do.” I tip my head, trying to catch her gaze fully. “What matters right now is what you want.”

For one long second, neither of us moves.

Then her eyes drop to my mouth.

That’s it.

That’s all it takes.

I lift one hand slowly. Slow enough for her to stop me, turn away, laugh. To throw the lemon bar at my head.

I touch the edge of the blanket near her shoulder first, not her skin. Giving her room. Giving her the choice.

When she doesn’t pull back, my fingers slide lightly to the side of her neck.

She shivers.

“Annie,” I say, because I need to hear “no” if it’s there.

Instead she whispers, “You talk too much.”

I grin helplessly. “You like that about me.”

“Maybe.”

And then she leans in first.

I kiss her.

And hell.

I knew there was chemistry. I’m not blind. I’ve been carrying the suspicion around for days, hot and bright and inconvenient as sin. But suspicion has nothing on the reality of her mouth on mine.

She tastes of cold coffee, sugar, and restraint finally snapping.

She makes this tiny sound low in her throat, and my whole body goes hot and tight at once. I shift closer without thinking, one hand sliding around to the back of her neck, the other catching at her waist through the blanket.

She turns toward me fully, one hand fisting in my shirt. She’s decided I’m either anchor or problem and hasn’t chosen which yet.

Maybe both.

Definitely both.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Annie

What am I doing?

This is a mistake.

Objectively, professionally, structurally… every part of my brain that likes order, consequences, and not blowing up my own life is screaming that this is a terrible idea.

I’ve been here a week.

He’s one of my bosses.