Page 27 of Dandelion Sighs

“It’s good stuff.” My beer had been polished off two hours ago. The brewery was full, and the voices blended together into a steady drone, but I could hear hers clearly.

“I should order one.”

No, she should not. I hadn’t been sure whether to cut her off or to let her continue. I chose continuing. She hated being treated like she wasn’t competent, but she’d also been reeling from the news of direct competition when the resort was barely surviving without competitors. While I was grateful McCoy dropped the news early, and we didn’t get hit with it later, I’d have preferred it if Sheridan could’ve enjoyed the evening.

“I need to get home.” I held an arm out when she automatically turned to drop down from her tall chair. “I’m not the night owl I used to be.”

“I never was one.” She clamped on to my forearm, sending a jolt of electricity sizzling over my skin. “Not a party girl.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

She looked around like she forgot something, then she giggled and swayed. “I thought I brought a purse in.”

“Told you it was my treat tonight.”

“Yep.” She popped her p. “A treat tonight.”

She must be thinking about the new resort.

I led her out to my pickup. She inhaled when the warm night air, laced with sweet clover, wrapped around us.

“I’m going to have to move,” she said as she attempted to get into my pickup. I helped her up with a hand on her side, smothering any thought about how warm and soft she was.

“You might not.” I got her settled and closed the door.

She rested her head against the window the whole way to town and stared at the night sky. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yes.”

“You’re really handsome.”

My hands tightened on the wheel. The beer had been talking all night, but she’d regret none of what she said until now. “Thanks.”

“Like, when you put that cowboy hat on?” Her giggle was throaty this time, going right to my gut. “What’s that song about—saving a horse?”

Ride a cowboy. Goddamn. I gripped the steering wheel like it was a life raft. I couldn’t speed, or that’d be more time alone with her saying things I liked hearing, but that would mortify her. “I’m not a cowboy anymore.”

“No, you’re a handyman.” She smacked her lips. “A big, strong handyman.”

Heat curled through my blood. Sheridan was gorgeous, but she was my boss. My drunk boss. If she wasn’t either of those, I’d be naked as soon as she said go. That wasn’t happening now.

“When you had your shirt off? God. So nice. You must work out.”

“Not officially.”

“Because the way your biceps flex,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “it’s a sin. I could lick them. Up one side and down the other.” She traced the outline in the air in front of her.

My throat grew thick, and that wasn’t the only thing swelling. I pushed the speed up two extra miles an hour. The glow from the lights of town was getting stronger. “Sheridan, why don’t you rest until we get to my place?”

“I mean…” She let out a sigh. “I think about you all the time.”

“Me too.” Shit. That slipped out.

She sat up and stared at me. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. “What do you think about?”

“Nothing I can say out loud.”

“Why not?”