Page 57 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

“It doesn’t matter. The whole point of this rant is that I might be having a crazy moment, but my mother was certifiably insane. No one rescued me from her. So I rescued myself. And part of that meant shutting out the world. But here things are so . . . different. I can’t hide from you in my work. I don’t have work. I wanted to feel things and here I am, feeling again. It’s an adjustment.”

He studied my face, his eyes softening. “That goes both ways. You’re all I’ve thought about for three days and I know the smartest thing for me to do would be to walk out that door. But . . .”

“But what?” I whispered as his thumb traced a line of tingles on my skin.

“But I’m going to take you into the bedroom and make sure you know that the reason I fucked you against that wall and in my garage was not because you don’t deserve the bedroom.” He bent and brushed his lips against mine. “But because when it comes to you, I have no control.”

Chapter Eleven

Easton

“Morning, boss,” Rory called from the hayloft before tossing a bale down. “You’re here early.”

“Rory, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, uh, Johnson called to see if I’d cover his shift today. He’s sick or something.”

Sick, my ass. Johnson didn’t like Saturday mornings because he was usually at the bar too late on Friday nights. He’d probably shown up not long after I’d left to chase Gemma last night, then stayed until Liz kicked him out at two. This was the second time in a month I’d come to the stables on a Saturday expecting to see him and finding Rory instead.

If Johnson wasn’t careful, I was going to fire him and give Rory a hefty raise.

Rory was due one anyway. He showed up on time and worked hard. His attitude was unmatched. Hell, it was better than mine.

“When you’re done up there, come on into my office.”

“All right.” He nodded and tossed down another bale.

I left him to his work and retreated to my office. The room was cold, so I turned up the baseboard heaters before shrugging off my coat. Then I eased the door closed to keep the warmth inside and settled in behind my desk.

Doing paperwork and checking emails was not my favorite task, let alone on a Saturday morning before seven, but after slipping out of Gemma’s bed this morning, I hadn’t wanted to go home.

She’d been out cold, her hair spread across the pillow and her face burrowed under the covers. I’d lit a fire to warm up the cabin, then driven away with the image of her sleeping peacefully in my mind.

Last night had been intense. Finding her sobbing, breaking down, had destroyed me. I knew she’d been embarrassed, not that there was anything to be ashamed of. And as much as I’d wanted to dive deeper into her past, the moment I’d kissed her, the chance to talk had flown out the window.

The two of us had spent the night exploring each other’s bodies and the sex had been just as intense. She met my desire with a raging passion of her own.

That woman had me twisted as tight as the braid on a bullwhip.

So this morning, I escaped to the stables because the distraction of work might be my only hope of getting my head on straight.

After the night Gemma had driven out to my house, I’d given her some space, not wanting to come on too strong. Last night, I’d begged out of family dinner because I hadn’t wanted to make her uncomfortable in front of my family.

Maybe giving her that space had been a mistake.

But I was glad I’d found her at the bar.

Had I been flirting with Liz? I’d known her since we were kids. Her family was as local to this valley as mine. She was my friend. We’d shared a fumbling kiss sometime during middle school, but besides that, our relationship had always been platonic.

Liz touched my arm a lot, and she always hung out near my end of the bar when I was in, but did she have feelings for me?

No. No way. Liz didn’t act anything like a woman who wanted me in her bed. She was a friend. Nothing more.

Gemma was the only woman who’d be tangled in my sheets.

She put on such a strong façade. She was fearless and wild. But beneath it all, she was scared. Of me. Of her future. She hid her fears well, but last night, I’d been given a glimpse. Would she run from those fears? Or would she stay here and face them?

Would she let me in?