Whiskey Moon

“I’m saying no one’s that lucky,” I say.

“I heard about you raising Beau’s barn,” she says.

“So you and Ivy were talking about me, were you?” I tease.

“Maybe.”

The fact that she’s still checking up on me means she’s still holding on.

She hasn’t let go … yet.

“How do you have time to do it all?” she asks, peering up at me through her thick dark lashes. “Running the ranch … saving everyone’s day …”

“I’d hardly call myself a hero. I’m just a man with a little too much time on my hands, I suppose.”

Her pace slows as the moon sculpture grows nearer.

“Do you ever think about finding yourself a nice girl and moving on?” Her words come slow and careful.

“Never given it much consideration.”

“I worry about you,” she says. “All alone in the line shack, working yourself to the bone while everyone around you is living their lives. It’s almost like you’re punishing yourself for something.”

She’s not entirely wrong, but she doesn’t know the half of it and she never will.

“If you don’t want to be with me, Wyatt, at least try to find someone else,” she says. “My grandma Lynette used to say never let a good man go to waste.”

“What about you?” I turn it around. “Ever think about finding someone new?”

“I’ve tried.” She dips her pointed chin and offers a humbled laugh through her nose. “I was engaged once.”

Her words land like a punch to my gut, and I can’t breathe for a beat.

“For a month,” she continues. “I’ll spare you all the details, but it was several years ago and I broke it off because … he wasn’t the one.”

The hint of sadness in her voice lingers in the air.

“You’ll find someone,” I say, though it kills every piece of me to utter those words to her.

We get in line at the glowing Whiskey Moon.

“Do you remember that pact?” she asks.

As if I could forget it …

“What about it?” I place my hand on the small of her back, ushering her forward.

“It’d be ten years tonight.” She gives me a wistful smile. “For the record, I’d have held up my end of the promise.”

I would’ve too—but my hands are tied.

We take our turn in front of the marble moon. I don’t bother making a wish. Instead I watch Blaire make hers. Eyes closed, lips barely moving like she’s whispering a little prayer into the universe.

The sweet scent of her berry lips and delicate perfume fills my lungs, and my hands want to touch her so badly they throb, pulsing with each frustrated knock of my heart.

“You want to get out of here?” I ask when she’s done wishing.

She arches a single brow. “Really?”

Her mouth tugs at the corners; a silent yes.

It’s risky as hell, and I’m not just playing with fire, I’m dancing with the damned devil.

But I have to have her one last time.

Slipping my hand over hers, I lead her out through two outbuildings and over a gate that leads to a dark field that neighbors the parking lot. We make it to my truck unnoticed, under the cover of night.

I start the engine and she scoots to the middle, tugging her dress up so it doesn’t get caught on the gear shifter.

By the time we hit gravel a few minutes later, her palm is gliding along the outside of my jeans and her mouth is hot against my neck. I slide my hand up her inner thigh, shoving her panties aside and slipping my finger inside her wetness.

She moans, raking her teeth across my ear.

My cock strains, pushing against my jeans until it aches.

At this rate, we’re flying but still a million endless miles from our destination.

But in here, we’re a million miles from anyone else, and right now, that’s the only thing that matters.

She can be her.

I can be me.

We can be us.

29

Blaire

* * *

The instant we set foot inside the line shack, Wyatt slams the door behind him and kisses me so hard it hurts—not that I’m complaining. His hands are in my hair, his lips are commanding mine, and his heavy, intoxicating scent floods my lungs.

I managed to go all week without seeking him out—or running into him, and now here I am, running right back into the very arms that broke me.

But tonight there was no mention of pretending.

Maybe …

My stomach trills as he backs me against a wall, his hand tugging up the hem of my skirt.

I silence my thoughts and focus on the heat of his lips pressed against my neck and the greedy push of his fingers inside of me.

I can’t get my hopes up again.

He pulls the front of my sundress down my shoulders, moving his mouth to my breasts before scooping me into his arms and carrying me to his bed on the other side of the room. Wyatt lays me on my back, running his hands up my thighs and slipping my panties off.