What do I say to this man now that we’ve taken a sledgehammer to our friendship?
Jesus, what can I say that won’t risk flicking salt in wounds I don’t even know about?
Later that night, when he’s leaving, Weston walks me outside with a couple sodas and a yawning starry sky.
“Oh, wow. Yet another thing I forgot I missed about Dallas,” I say, pointing up.
“Everything I’ve been missing is closer to earth, babe,” he tells me with a low growl that makes me flush. “Haven’t seen her this happy in ages, you know.”
“Come again?” I ask, meeting the warm blue pools of his eyes.
“Aunt Faye. Ever since Willow stepped into Grady’s life and things settled down after their tiger drama, she hasn’t been running after their little girls as much. Having her here with Thelma, working like mad to get ready for the show, gives her purpose,” he explains. “And I’ve got you to thank, Shel.”
This is when we should pounce on each other in gasping kisses and rattled breaths that make a hundred filthy promises.
I’m so surprised I jump when I feel his hand eclipse mine, this huge, hot mass twining my fingers with a chaste squeeze.
His eyes drive through me and keep going for miles.
“Y-you’re welcome,” I whisper, swallowing harshly.
“And you’re stuttering. Do I still make you nervous?”
“Only all the time,” I whisper, tilting my face up.
Perfectly timed. Because a second later, his grip on my fingers tightens, and I’m lost in a slashing tongue, a hot growl, a dizziness that scorches me.
His wildfire kiss sears me from the inside out, delicious and over far too soon.
We break away with a startled look and breathless smiles.
“Say hi to Herc for me,” I whisper.
“Later,” he says over his shoulder as he steps into the moonlight. “Soon as I get a break, I’m coming for that mouth and that sweet little ass, Shelly. I’m coming home to make you mine.”
Mine.
Isn’t it lovely how men can completely unscrew a girl with those words?
Staggering back inside, my arms are clasped tight to my shoulders.
Not from the cold, but because that’s how undone I am, how much I need to hold myself together.
How scared I am of what I’ll become when this inevitably ends.
* * *
That night sets a pattern for the rest of the week.
Weston joins us for at least one meal a day, breakfast or dinner, depending on whether or not he’s helping his uncle at the Purple Bobcat or busting his hump at the garage.
He’s also outside bright and early, meeting me at Hercules’ pen every morning with this pungent cup of dark-roast coffee. It’s a full-bodied caffeinated shot of perfection from some little specialty shop called The Nest in Heart’s Edge, Montana.
More guests arrive with each growing day, last minute drop-ins coming for the big cat sanctuary or the cars. It’s pure agony that I can’t do more than share coffee with him and a few brief moan-swept kisses.
But for now, it’s more than enough to make me feel like I’m walking on absolute sunshine.
By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, we have everything ready for the booths, and spend the entire evening transporting everything to the fairgrounds and then setting up Gram and Faye’s booth.