Page 38 of Saddle Storm

“Not bad,” I tell him, tearing the wet cloth pouch and wiping my fingers clean of the sticky sauce. “You fixed it. And all by yourself.”

Silas swipes the wet napkin from my fingers and replaces it with another heavily sauced wing. “One more. You can do it.”

I groan at my freshly ruined fingers. “Oh nooo. I only get the one wet nap. You’re going to have to give me yours!”

He points at me like he’s setting ground rules. “You are licking those fingers clean like we both know you want to. I had no problem getting myself dirty for you today, the least you could do is return the favor.”

I chuckle and lick one sauce-covered finger, his eyes dancing with delight as I do. “Oh, was that a favor you did for me earlier? Or was it a way to get what you wanted out of me?” I take a bite and lick my lips between chews, which draws his attention, his eyes lost in them.

“Lot of good that does me now,” he throws down his napkin and leans back like he’s got a real dilemma. “How am I going to prove that Storm Dalton admitted to having a crush on me? There’s no way people will buy it.”

I roll my eyes. “Pretty sure folks here will believe anything you tell them.”

He picks up a carrot stick and swings it in front of me.

“No more food.”

“It’s a goddamn carrot, Bee. Take a bite.”

My stomach dips every time he uses that nickname again, and I hate how much I like it.

I look at the dry carrot. “We’re out of dressing.”

His eyes drop to my lips and before I realize what’s happening, he reaches over and swipes the carrot along my bottom lip and holds the stick in front of me with a smirk. “Found some.”

I laugh and take the damn carrot, glancing around us. “That’s gonna earn you front page on tomorrow’s paper, hotshot.”

His eyes don’t leave mine. “Worth it.”

My grin fades as I snap back to reality. Him having a whole other life outside of here. The arm that’s clearly starting to heal enough for him to boycott the sling. And the kid who just found out that Silas Thorne and his mother were friends.

This is wrong.

Wrong and stupid.

“I’ve got to go.”

He leans back, his expression sobering. “I’m sorry. That was . . . forward and inappropriate, I guess?”

Inexplicable panic starts to set in and an urgency to go. “It’s just getting late. I need to get Max a bath before the—” I stop, catching myself because Silas doesn’t need to hear my building’s plumbing problems. “Before his bedtime.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t argue. “All right. I’ll get this settled and get you guys home.”

I nod and glance around us. Truthfully—I don’t care who sees us together in town. I’m not hiding anything. But I don’t need rumors spreading that will give Max the wrong idea—or bring him into the chaos that comes with the world Silas lives in.

He’s been around one week and found a means of entertainment. That’s all this is. A time-filler until he can get back to the bigger and better he’s always chased.

I turn onto my street, thankful—and also surprised—when he doesn’t say anything about the building. For once, I’m relieved it’s not well-lit. The six-story complex has seen better days—I’m almost sure. But its exterior is far more acceptable than the interior. And the way it’s operating.

I glance around the street and bite back a groan. Not only did I likely miss the hot water window, but there’s also no way I’ll find a parking spot at this hour.

I glance at Max in the back seat, deeply invested in the new Polaroid camera he won with all his tickets.

I’m in the driver’s seat to spare Silas trying to keep proving something and driving with one good hand. He insisted on seeing us home and then taking an Uber back to the ranch.

“Used to have friends who lived around here, I think,” he says, then adds quietly, “always a bitch to get to.”

“Yeah, it’s a little off the grid, I suppose. But still in town . . . somehow.” I trail off as I scan for an empty spot.