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“Is your chair uncomfortable?”

At my question, Chance relaxes into his seat. “Not at all. Why?”

“Mine is.” My butt wiggles for emphasis. “I can’t seem to settle in. Can I try yours?” As he starts to rise, I grab his arm to stop him. “With you in it.”

He blinks slowly. “You want to sit on my lap?”

My finger twirls a lock of my hair. “Is that okay?”

Chance lifts me up as if I weigh nothing. In the next beat, I’m sprawled on top of him. He gets us situated so my legs are spread over and my back is flush with his chest. I rest my head against his shoulder, realizing I now have the perfect view of the sky.

“Much better,” I breathe.

His exhale is pitched to the tune of relief. “Can I hold your hand, Wildflower?”

Tears prick my eyes again. The plea in his voice is my weakness. It reminds me of the sweet boy I used to know. He reaches into the broken parts of me and promises to heal every crack. In these moments, I’m tempted to give him anything he asks for.

I lift my palm in invitation. He doesn’t hesitate, clasping our hands together. But that’s not enough. His index finger curls around mine, reclaiming our secret symbol. A wound that’s refused to heal stitches itself closed. I whimper and slouch against him.

As the first sparks fly across the sky, his lips graze my ear. “I’ve missed you.”

My eyes clench shut as the next boom rattles through my chest. The bold seductress I’m meant to embody slinks behind a curtain. If he wants to cherish me for a few hours, I’ll allow it.

“I might’ve missed you too.”

“Really?” Chance’s uplifted spirits could put this fireworks show to shame.

I find myself nodding. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Far from it.”

Ever since we agreed that Gemma would resolve her animosity towards me by dishing out as much as I could take, I’ve watched my considerate best friend morph into a vengeful siren. Just for me, of course. Gemma is making me pay for all the hurt I’ve caused and I’m committed to the role. If this is what it takes to heal her, I’ll willingly cast my pride aside.

But in all honestly, I fucking love to come running whenever she beckons. There’s something very gratifying about following her orders and doing what I’m told. It’s a form of foreplay I didn’t know existed.

Like now, I’m delivering more wood shavings from the fairground’s office to her horses’ stalls. This is after I mucked out the piss and shit twice. While we’re at this rodeo for the holiday weekend, I’ve accepted the role as Gemma’s barn boy. It’s dirty work, but someone’s got to do it. I’d rather it be me than the cowboy at the edge of the arena who’s clearly confused about where to look.

I slam on the brakes and the side-by-side lurches to a halt. Gemma bounces in the passenger seat next to me. Her brows rise in question. My glare is fixed on the guy ogling my woman.

“Do you know him?”

She glances around the expansive Washington County fairgrounds that’s a hive of activity. “Who?”

“Him.” I point at the dumbass hanging off the fence on our right.

Gemma cocks her head, giving him a once-over. “Maybe. Why?”

“He’s staring at you.”

“So?”

My glower takes on a murderous edge, but he doesn’t see me sitting here. “I don’t like it.”

“Oh, good grief. Not this again.” Gemma gives me a scowl of her own. “People are going to look at me. Talk to me. Flirt with me. You have to get over it.”

I clench my jaw hard enough to crack my molars. The possessive side of me only reveals itself for Gemma. It’s gotten worse since she agreed to be mine. Other guys aren’t allowed to think about her, let alone to drool over her.

“Hey, asshole!” I bellow. My temper is boiling, which has nothing to do with the early July heat. “Get your eyes off her or I’ll stab them out of their sockets with a hoof pick.”

He finally notices me. The threat in my statement must reflect in my expression and body language. Without a word, he pivots to look elsewhere.