Vi’s looking at Travis like he’s something she scraped off her boot, and honestly? Fair. I tell her everything, so she knows he’s full of shit. She knows the most work he’s put me to in this relationship is pretending I’m satisfied with our vanilla-as-hell sex life—if you can even call it that.
By the time my head rights itself, Christian’s eyes are already on me. That dark gaze pins me in place, and Jesus Christ, I need the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
I’m sure he’s probably got some lingerie-wearing cowgirl with legs for days warming his bed, but the way he’s looking at me right now isn’t how any man should look at his son’s girlfriend. What I used to brush off as him just being polite, maybe even protective, doesn’t feel so innocent anymore. Nothing’s happened. Not really. Not unless you count the way my breath catches every time his fingers brush mine when I hand him his drink. But there’s a tension crackling between us that could start fires, a heat that races down my spine every time he lets his gaze linger on me a little too long. And no matter how many times I try to convince myself it’s nothing, it doesn’t feel like nothing anymore.
“I’m gonna go stock the bar and leave you to talk about our sex life alone before I start telling some truths that you’re not ready to hear.”
“What the hell, Piper?”
“Seriously, learn when to shut up,” I shoot back, not bothering to hide the disgust in my voice.
I march my ass out back and escape into the cellar. Down here inthe quiet darkness, surrounded by the earthy smell of old wood and wine that’s been aging longer than I’ve been alive, I rest my forehead against a rough beam and try to remember how to breathe. I just have to survive two more weeks of him. I’ve committed to helping at Christian’s farm, and I’m going to see it through.No matter how much Travis grates on my nerves, no matter how badly I want to scream every time he opens his mouth, I’m not backing out.
A throat clears behind me, and before I even turn around, my skin tightens with that familiar pull, the way it always does when Christian Crawford steps into a room. It’s an awareness that’s become second nature by now, something I feel before I ever see his face.
“I know he’s your son…” I whisper, my forehead still resting against the beam.
“You don’t have to say anything I don’t already know.” I turn my neck just enough to watch him step closer. “Listen, I don’t want you to feel like you have to come up to the farm if it’s too much. Travis will pitch a fit like a toddler who dropped his ice cream, but he’ll survive.”
“You know I can help up there. I’m not exactly sure what to do, but I’m happy to be there.”
“You sure?” He watches me carefully, clearly offering me a way out if I want it.
“I’m sure. I want to help.”
“I’ll try and keep Travis in check.” He pauses, like there’s more he wants to say but probably shouldn’t.
I catch the flicker of movement in his cheek, the way the muscle jumps beneath that rough stubble, and for a split second, all I want is to reach out and run my fingers along the tension there.
Just to feel it.
Just to touch him.
“I don’t like the way he…”
“The way he what?” I ask, finally turning to face him fully.
“I guess I always hoped he’d treat his woman better than he does.”
“Oh… It’s fine.”Because as soon as I’m off that mountain, it’s over.“He just has the emotional maturity of a fifteen-year-old boy. I’m sure when he’s your age and settled down, he’ll have his shit together.”
“I hope so, or I’ll be taking his ass down a peg or two when I’m sixty.”
“I’m sure his wife will appreciate it.”
But it won’t be me.
I clear my throat, desperate to shift the mood and dispel the static curling around us.
“Would you mind grabbing a couple of crates while you’re down here?”
“Pass it here, darlin’. Don’t want you breaking a nail.”
“Ah, so that’s where he gets his patronizing bullshit from. Should’ve known it was genetic.”
Christian freezes mid-reach, then throws back his head and laughs.
“I can promise you, whatever’s wrong with my boy, he didn’t learn it from me.”
