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I open the door and stare at her. My chest clenches.

Like the first time I saw her in the Creek House, she’s a side sleeper.

She’d be perfect beside me, backed up against me, her small body curled in my arms.

A dream.

I’ve never slept beside a woman or stayed the night. Buckle bunnies were sex only. It’s what a cowboy does. No room for attachment. It’s what my heart demanded.

I walk deeper into the room. Perching on the edge of the bed, I trace a light finger over her cheek. Soft as fucking velvet.

She doesn’t stir, taken under by slumber, overworked by our time on the ranch today. Long blond hair waved over the pillow. Full, pouty pink lips, parted slightly as her chest rises and falls with her soft, feminine breaths. Those long, dark lashes feathered over her high cheekbones. A fucking angel.

A growl rumbles in my chest.

What the fuck am I thinking? Why the fuck am I in here? Staring at her like a man obsessed.

And yet, that’s exactly what I am.

I’m attracted to her. I want her.

I’m going to fall in love with her.

The realization tears through me like a bullet.

That can’t happen.

She has secrets, she’s chaos. I have darkness. The distillery. My brothers. We’re no match for each other.

Delilah shouldn’t be here. In Tempest. It’s dangerous for her. I’m dangerous for her.

Fists clenched, I shove up from the bed, my chest heaving as I stare down at Delilah’s peaceful face.

That girl’s a burning flame I can’t hope to capture. If I do, I’ll only dim her light. Her fire.

But that’s exactly what I want.

Her.

18 Delilah

New joy in life unlocked: Cole Weston’s bed. Groaning, I stretch out in the sheets and bury my face in the pillow, huffing all the cowboy scent I can. Pine. Whiskey. Man.

I have a faint memory of the door opening, a sliver of light, a big dark shadow. But I wasn’t afraid. Was that Cole?

Taking one last deep breath, I sit up in bed, my head turning toward the window. Sunlight. Birdsong. My limbs hurt like I moved bricks all day. Which, I guess, isn’t far off.

Yesterday was chaos, but I loved every bit of it. Because it included Cole Weston.

He opened up to me. Shared so much of himself it made me ache. And what did I do? I ran, I hid, I lied.

Guilt bubbles in my stomach, and I struggle to swallow it down.

I want to tell him about those sad, dark parts of me, but I’m afraid. I wish I could be honest with him, but I don’t owe him anything. The only thing I owe him is a job well done at the distillery. Cole Weston doesn’t get my secrets. Or my heart.

Even though it longs to trust him.

He cares. He told me that.