Page 27 of Forever After Fall

“I didn’t want to give his threats any air to breathe. He was boasting in front of a bunch of his guys at the bar. Trying to look like a hard-ass. I would have dealt with it if he’d actually tried anything.”

“I’m sorry he did that. He’s a child.”

“You don’t need to apologize for him. The only thing you’re guilty of is giving him more chances than he deserved.”

“Should I apologize for his truck, then? For ruining everything tonight.” I sigh.

“What’s wrong with tonight?”

“You’re hurt. We got stuck in this storm. Guess it proves your point about this being a bad spot for the hayride, but it’s not much of a consolation when you’re cut up and soaked.” I frown as I look at his hand again.

“I don’t mind being stuck. Or soaked. Minus the fact it’s a little fucking cold.” He grins.

“The heater can’t keep up, I guess. It’s not a good sign for the winter. So you were right about that.” I frown at the dash and then look down at my dress. It’s still plastered to me. Drying slowly at the hem. “And about the dress not being great for the work.”

“Dress did fine with the hay. Just didn’t expect the rain. So we were both right, and I’m not exactly complaining about the view.” Anson’s eyes rake over my body and my stomach flutters at how brazen he is.

“Me either.” I roll my lip between my teeth as I give myself permission to stare at the man in front of me. His shirt is just as plastered to his body as mine, and his jeans are practically painted on his thighs. “Would be nice to be warmer. I can get us back now, I think.” I tear my eyes away and take the wheel, determined to drive down this hill and back across the ranch to the inn where Anson left his truck.

“I think we’d better wait another few minutes.” He glances out the windshield to where the rain’s still pounding away on the hood and lashing the glass with each gust of wind. “But you could come here.”

I look over at him to make sure I heard the invitation and didn’t imagine it. My skin feels hot and this cab seems to have shrunk in size in the last few minutes. But he leans back and pats his thigh like nothing is amiss.

“Come sit in my lap. So you don’t catch your death.”

“What about yours?”

“Well, this’ll take care of both of us. Because if I have to keep looking at you in that dress…” He clears his throat and lifts his eyes back to meet mine before he averts them completely.

I slide across the bench in slow motion until I’m within reach, and he wraps an arm around my waist and hauls me close. My back is plastered against his side, and I already feel warmer with our proximity. Whether it’s truly the body heat or me suddenly flushing with thoughts of wanting him is anyone’s guess.

“Better?” I ask.

“Better.” His voice is quieter when he answers, and he moves to let go of me, but I put my arm over his, sliding my palm down his forearm. He tenses at first but then relaxes into my touch. We sit in that familiar silence for a long moment before I notice how wet the seat is from where the rain pooled off of my body. Chris would hate it.

“So much for not getting the leather wet,” I muse. His head cranes to look in the same direction, and a rough laugh tumbles out of his chest.

“Fuck.” He shakes his head. “That’s not what I thought you meant.”

“Oh.” I laugh nervously, but I feel my stomach flip at the implication, and my heart beats half a second faster in my chest at the thought of what we could do in here. Where his hands could wander. “No. Not what I meant,” I murmur. Trying to tell myself we have to go slow. Boundaries and expectations require plans, and tonight wasn’t planned.

“It should be though.” His thumb drifts up from my waist, skating over my sternum upward to where my neckline dips. “In this dress. With all the work you’ve put in. You deserve something for the trouble.”

“Now?” I ask because the last thing I want is to be confused about what he’s saying and take this too far. He leans down, closing what little gap is left between us and speaks.

“I can talk you through it. All you have to do is lift the hem of that dress.”

“You don’t want us to…” I let the words fade on my lips. Even now I’m nervous to say too much too soon.

“I don’t want to get between you and your revenge. I just want to be a part of it.”

TWELVE

Anson

She’s silent so long after my admission, the sound of the rain drowning out my ability to even read the pattern of her breathing, that I almost speak again to correct myself. But thank fuck I don’t because just before I do, her hand wanders down to her thigh, pulling up the hem of her dress that’s still stained by cold rain—the consequences of her running out to play nurse to me while I worked on the engine.

I want to touch her so damn bad, but I don’t want to push this too far too fast and have it all explode in my face. I’ve been hoping for a chance long enough that I can wait a few more days or weeks. It might be all the sweeter for the torture of waiting and watching. I’m sure it will be when I watch her dress climb higher and higher up her thighs.