Page 27 of Drifter’s Heart

Yeah, and look how fucking peachy that relationship turned out.

I talk her through each moment, from arriving in Haiti and unpacking, letting myself be eaten by mosquitos, to discovering my sunscreen exploded in my overnight bag, leaving me in the clothes I wore. I’d bought the spare clothing at the airport on the way back and then showered and tossed the mud-encrusted ruined set that I arrived in.

And Winnie hasn’t said a single word about my watermelon-pink board shorts or my floral neon mismatched shirt yet. When I run out of anecdotes of falling on my ass where she doesn’t laugh—and I’m not that shit at storytelling—I stop to catch my breath, my throat dry.

“Tell me what you need. Please.” I don’t remember the last time I begged anyone for anything.

Nor do I care.

Winnie stares at me, her eyes unfocused like she’s not sure what I just asked.

“Coffee?” I probe gently when she says nothing. “A shower?” Desperation builds at the base of my tailbone, an incessant itch that works its way along my spine. I have no idea what to do when that sensation reaches the top, but it’s not gonna be good. “Do you want⁠—”

“You.”

The single word falls from her lips, startling me into silence.

“What?” I run my hands over her shoulders, squeezing gently. “Me to what, huh? I’ll take you anywhere, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

“I know that, West. You’re being obtuse. Deliberately.” Winnie leans in and presses her mouth to mine.

And stays there.

My breath seizes in my chest with no way to escape. I ease back a fraction, my lower back protesting with the twisted posture as Winnie leans with me.

“Girl, this isn’t—You’re not⁠—”

“I know what I want, West. I want you,” she insists.

I force my mouth into a straight line. Fuck, she’s cute. “I get that, gorgeous. But you’ve had a shock, and⁠—”

“You kissed me.”

“Uh—”

Blue eyes blaze at me, and I’m screwed.

“Dammit, West, you put me back on my bed, kissed me, and walked out. After you stayed with me and held me all night long for support. A man. Looking after me. Do you know how many times in this girl’s life that has happened?” She holds up a hand, wiggling four fingers.

I stare at the four wiggly fingers, my stomach gripping its own sides in protest. “Is this a trick question?”

Winnie growls. “Never, West.”

“I would not have said that.” Why the hell hold up four fingers, then?

“I get that, but—augh! You’re the grumpiest, sweetest, nicest damn cowboy I know. And I’m not supposed to have fallen in love with you!” Her hand taps me on the cheek. “Are you listening to me?”

She’s in love with me? I blink. “I’m still on the fingers question. Wait. Did you just say⁠—”

“Jesus, West. Forget the fucking fingers.” Winnie grabs my face and slams our lips together.

My head swims with her confession. I’m more than one step behind as she kisses me with everything she has.

“West.” Exasperated, Winnie glares at me. “Get it together. I’m seducing you.”

“You’re jumping my bones on a trauma-fed rebound. There’s a difference.”

She huffs at me. “Not much.”