Page 94

I look at Wells over her shoulder. “Make sure she gets back to the ranch safe.”

Letting go of her hand is a slow, painful torture.

And then I turn and run after River.

22 Delilah

My shift at the tasting room crawls by. I pour dozens of whiskey flights, chat up the customers—a bachelor party and a group of fishermen celebrating their success at the lake—and reorder a case of glassware for Ezra, all while feeling Cole’s burning stare on me.

Tomorrow night, he’d said.

Which means tonight.

Which means I’ve been lost in thought all day. Anticipating our evening has me strung tight. Being around Cole Weston is thrilling. Like every inch of my body, my soul comes to life when I see him.

We danced. He kissed me. In the bar. In front of everyone.

The way my body felt in his arms tells me it would always be like that with Cole Weston. Incinerating, reckless harmony. We’d fit. Impeccably.

Even if I know I should draw a line between us.

Because there is no us.

But I can’t help but wonder, am I in his thoughts the way he storms through mine?

After my shift, I head to the Creek House, shower, change, pour a glass of wine, and sit. Like I’m waiting for something. And I am. Because when the velvet dark of the sky unfurls and the stars come out, there’s a thud of boots and a knock at my door.

Cole.

He came, like I knew he would. Like I felt him.

My heartbeat kicks up as I rush to answer it. I swing it open.

He stands there, tall, big, and imposing. His cowboy hat shrouds his eyes, but I feel his intense, heated stare on me. “Hey, darlin’.” The rumbling cadence of his deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.

“Hi,” I breathe. He looks so damn handsome. The chambray shirt stretched over that broad chest of his. Thick muscles in his legs flex beneath the tight denim.

With a lift of his big finger, he tips his brim up to see me better. “You ready for that after-hours tour?”

I thrill inside. An entire evening with Cole Weston awaits.

“Yes.”

He grips my hand and helps me outside. “You okay walkin’?”

“Lead the way.” I clutch his hand, marvel at its size, his scarred knuckles, his strength.

Before I can say anything, he says, “I’m sorry, Delilah.”

“For what?”

“For what I said last night. That you were no one.”

My mouth parts in surprise at his apology. I can’t deny it stung. But I told myself Cole had a reason for his sharp words. I saw it on his face when that cop got too close: Protection.

“I didn’t want you anywhere near that mess.” His face creases. “You’re too good for any drama that Tempest brings.”

I smile. “Apology accepted, cowboy.”