Kade stares at me for a long moment, head slightly tilted, like he’s actually considering it. His eyes slide across my face before gliding downward. They land somewhere around my chest, where they stay.
I follow his gaze and scoff.
“Either you love the Queen of Country,” I murmur, referring to my Dolly Parton shirt. “Or my boobs. And if that’s the case, they’re not part of the deal.”
“You have tattoos,” he states, throat bobbing. “Multiple.”
My mouth unhinges, then snaps shut.That’swhat he’s looking at?
Self-consciousness swarms my senses, and I twist, letting the baggy sleeve of my vintage tee fall to cover the floral tattoo on my bicep. I feel exposed, the way he’s staring at it—atme.
I lift my hand out the window and snap, getting his attention.
“If you’re done gawking, can you please help me?” His eyes jolt to mine, jaw ticking. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was about to burst.”
Kade rips off his hat—the baseball cap today—and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s a bit longer than last time I saw him, but his beard is more trimmed and less wild than before. He looks rested and tan. Emotionally lighter than the first time I met him.
When I swallow, it sticks. He looks good. Really good.
No, Georgia. He’s nothing. You’ve seen way hotter men back home. Kade is just a hillbilly with an attitude problem.
As if to prove me wrong, the man shoves his hat on his head—backward—and I’m pretty sure I start drooling.
He bends, and I hear him grunt, like he’s in pain. “You alright? Did you get hurt?”
I lose myself in his stormy eyes for a breath—the dark ring of lashes that curl around them, the small scar that dissects his left brow, the little lines creasing around the edges, and the streaks of black and light blue that crash through his irises like lightning strikes.
Kade Archer isbeautiful.
I’m still staring when his hand comes through the window and tucks a stray curl behind my ear. His fingers ghost my cheek, where they pause. My breath catches.
“Darlin’?” he murmurs, brows drawn tight with concern. He pads at my forehead. “Did you hit your head?”
In a daze, I nod, then shake my head, before settling with a shrug. I don’t remember getting hurt, but I must have. Why else would I suddenly be losing myself in his eyes like they’re the answers to every wish I never dared to say out loud?
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asks, voice threaded with concern that finally wakes me up.
“I’m fine,” I breathe, blinking rapidly.
Hell, he’s still touching me, but now, his thumb is softly stroking my jaw, palm cradling my face. His hands are calloused and rough, but they’re also huge and so gentle that it makes my chest ache.
I pull away.
Clearing my throat, I force a smile.
He snaps his hand back and stands to his full, impressive height, tapping the hood twice. “Alright. Gimme a minute to get you hitched.”
“Bit soon for that.” I blame my flirty tone on the adrenaline crash. Kade flicks me a questioning look and I shrug, smirking. “Getting hitched. We only just met.”
After a beat, his lip lifts in the ghost of a smile, and he shakes his head, stepping away. “Never been one for waiting around. See something I want, I go after it.”
I say nothing, synapsis scrambling for purchase as I watch him walk away through the mirror.
Was he like this the last few times I saw him? Slightly inappropriate and flirty, masculine and broody, with a hint of over-the-top concern? Way too hot for his own damn good?
“And I’ll take that extra coffee,” he calls over his shoulder with a wink. “As payment for pretending you weren’t just checking me out!”
And just like that, I’m annoyed all over again.
