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I shouldn’t tell her. I should keep this girl clean, not drag her into it. But she’s been honest with me, and I want more of her, so that means I give her more of me.

When I finish my story, the whiskey in the glass is gone, and Delilah stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Cole, I can’t let you do this.”

I grip her chin, forcing her gaze toward mine. “You can and you will.” She has to hear this. Accept it.

Lower lip trembling, Delilah tilts her head and stares up at me. Those beautiful brown eyes glassy with tears. “Cole, you were done running guns at the end of summer. Why would you do this? I’ve put your ranch, your family in danger. You barely know me.”

“I know you. I know you’re what matters to me.” I bring her in tight against me, feeling the sway of her hips, the heartbeat in her chest. “I want every part of you. I want you here with me.”

If there’s a light amid the darkness of everything that’s happened, that’s Delilah.

Not ready to let her go. Not ready to let her fend for herself. Protecting her runs rampant through my senses, tears at my soul. I won’t lose her like I lost Jack, my parents. If I do one good thing in life, it’s keeping her safe.

“Really?” There’s soft hope in her tone.

“Really. I’m crazy for you, darlin’.” She’s become my sanctuary. A better place to be instead of alone.

“I’m a little bit crazy for you too, cowboy.” Her bright beam of a smile feels like a reward all on its own.

My arms band around her possessively, my lips falling to hers. As I drink in her kiss, my heart hammers in my chest. Knowing there’s so much more at fucking stake now. Knowing we’re both in the deep end. Knowing that I’m playing with fire. Because like it’s done all my life, Tempest takes.

36 Delilah

I rush around the distillery the entire afternoon trying to make sure everything is set for the upcoming limited-edition whiskey launch, unpack a box of Weston Whiskey personalized glassware for the tastings, confirm the band for the party, book an order for another shipment of Cole’s barrels to be sent to Minnesota, and put together a snack menu for Ezra, who’s decided that offering light bites might be the way to go. I’m in the back office scrawling out a produce order after my shift when the door creaks open.

Wyoma, Cole’s aunt, a sweet older woman who watches Evangeline and makes the best damn peach cobbler I’ve ever had, pops her head into the back office to tell me Cole’s gone into town.

“Anything wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing.” She smiles. “He said to go straight back to his place after work.”

I blush. It’s no secret I’ve been living at Cole’s place for the last two weeks. It’s also no secret Cole’s been obsessive about staying by my side if I go anywhere other than the ranch.

In the last week, I’ve discovered a lot about Tempest and the Westons. There’s always feuding. There’s always danger. There’s always violence. But none of it makes me want to leave.

It hasn’t been easy trying to shake off the devastation of Belle’s betrayal. The one person I counted on to have my back didn’t. But I’ve always bounced back. Only this time, it’s different. Because I’m not alone. Not anymore. I have Cole and the Westons.

Copper Run Ranch may be a sanctuary for animals, but it’s been mine as well.

I’m safe here. Cole’s gone to the ends of the earth and back to ensure my protection. Cameras. Extra security. I’m never left unattended. And if I go anywhere, Cole’s always by my side. Frankly, I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about Melly. The thought of her being kept somewhere…it’s agony.

“Okay, I will.” I cap the pen, unsure how much Cole’s aunt and uncle know about what happened.

Wyoma’s eyes drift to the glassware. “Is that for the party?”

I ping a nail against the crystal and listen to it sing. “It is.”

I’ve kept the theme simple. Old west. Cowboys. An ode to their parents, a testament to their whiskey. Everyone should see the indelible mark Weston Whiskey has made on the town.

“You’re doing a good job, honey.” Wyoma nods at my paperwork. “A born natural.” Her brows rise as she gives me a pointed look. “With the distillery and with Cole.”

My flush deepens.

“He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.” Wyoma looks thoughtfully at me.

So am I. I miss my Creek House, but I like Cole’s place better. I like cooking with him. Whiskey on his back porch. Pulling records and arguing over whose musical tastes are superior. But most of all, I like the man.