Page 30 of Where We Burn


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“You good here, Piper?” Callan asks, pulling off his work gloves and dusting stray bits of wood from his coat. “Christian just texted, said he’s only got a few deliveries left.”

“Yeah, all good. Guess I’ll go play housewife in the kitchen and have dinner ready like a good little woman for when he gets home.”

Callan barks out a laugh, shaking his head. He knows me well enough to know that’s about as far removed from who I am as it gets.

“You keep talking like that, and Christian won’t let you leave.”

The flutter in my stomach is instant because the thought of taking care of that brooding mountain man does things to me.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you later,”he says, waving me off as he makes his way to his truck.

A couple of hours pass, and I manage to throw some food together so Christian doesn’t have to walk in and worry about dinner.I’m no expert in the kitchen, but I can handle the basics—some steak andpotatoes, nothing fancy—but it’s warm and filling, and the least I can do.

After cleaning up, I take a shower and get ready for my shift at the bar. Cowboy boots, a denim skirt, and a tight red shirt that accentuates what my mama gave me—which, to be honest, is about the only damn thing she gave me.

I’m supposed to be at the bar in fifteen minutes, and I already know I’m going to be late. It didn’t take much convincing to get me up here, but Travis promised—he swore up and down—that if I came to stay with him and his dad, he’d make sure I got to my shifts at the bar. I’ve called and called, and then I’ve called some more, each time going straight to voicemail.

“Fucking Beaufords. Selfish, entitled assholes,” I mutter to myself, pacing in front of the fireplace before finally collapsing into the chair beside it. I’m furious at Travis, but I’m more pissed at myself. I should’ve driven my own car up here and maintained my independence.But that’s not how Travis operates. He needs control, which is rich considering he turns into a fumbling mess in bed and has about as much control as a teenage boy discovering third base for the first time.

The door suddenly swings open, and I jump up from my chair, hope and dread warring in my chest.

Please be Travis, I think.

Please be Christian, my body answers.

“Jesus, Travis, where have you—” The words catch in my throat as Christian appears, and instead of throwing his keys down, he twirls them in his fingers before tipping his head over his shoulder, signaling me to follow him.

“Come on. I’ll take you.”

“God, I’m sorry. You must be exhausted. I tried calling him, but?—”

“Don’t be sorry. I need to drop in and thank Callan anyway.” Christian holds the front door open, and as I step past, I swear I hear him inhale.

I halt, and he stops behind me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off his body as I turn and look up, meeting his eyes under the brim of his hat.

“You okay?”

“I, uh… I cooked. I figured you might be hungry. It can be reheated, but I wasn’t expecting you to have to drive me.”

“You cooked for me?” I nod, suddenly shy in a way I never am, but then he grins, and it just about knocks the breath out of me. “I don’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me, other than Savannah.”

“Well, I can’t promise it’s anywhere near as good as what you make, but hopefully it won’t kill you.”

“Thank you, Piper. Really. I appreciate it.”

I smile, turning away but not rushing. I take my time walking to his truck, and when Christian’s long strides close the gap before I even reach the door, I know one thing with absolute certainty: He’s feeling this too.

He pulls the passenger door open, one hand resting casually on the frame as he waits for me.

“Well, no one can say you’re not a gentleman, huh?” I tease, brushing past him and flashing a grin as I slide inside.

Christian lets out a low chuckle, tilting his head as he rubs his jaw, glancing around the darkening property.

“Just basic manners on how to treat a lady.”

“So you’re not a gentleman?”