I'm dizzy and breathless and completely undone. My lips feel swollen, my hair is a mess, and every inch of my skin is humming with awareness. This is what I've been afraid of—this complete loss of control, this overwhelming need that makes me forget every lesson my mother ever taught me about protecting my heart.
But seeing the way he's looking at me like I'm necessary to him I can't force myself to care about the consequences.
"Wyatt," I whisper, and his name feels different on my lips now.
"Come with me," he says suddenly, his hands still framing my face like he's afraid I might disappear. "Next weekend. I've got a sponsorship event in Jackson Hole—private jet, fancy dinner, the whole deal. Come with me."
The invitation clamps around me, tight as a rope gone taut. Jackson Hole. Sponsorship events. His world.
"I can't," I say automatically, even as part of me wants to say yes more than I've ever wanted anything.
"Why not?"
"Because..." I struggle for words, for all the rational reasons this is a terrible idea. "Because I work for your family. Because it's complicated. Because I’m not impulsive. I don’t jet off for a weekend with a guy I just—."
"Kissed?"
“I was going to say met.”
He leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. The move is so achingly sweet my knees buckle. “I know you were.”
I shake my head because I’m not quite sure what to do with him.
"Come see my world," he says quietly. "Let me show you what it's really like. It's not all parties and belt buckles. There's business involved, strategy."
"This is crazy," I whisper.
"Yeah," he agrees, his smile soft and devastating. "It is."
I see my own want reflected in his eyes, see the same desperate need to hold onto this moment even though we both know it's dangerous. He's offering me a chance to see what it would be like to be with him, to matter to him, to cross from ranch world to rodeo world and back again. He’s offering his world.
I'm going to say yes.
I shouldn’t. But we passed thewouldn’tsand theshouldn’tswith that kiss. For a heartbeat, I wonder if this is whataddiction feels like—a wild, ferocious need for something you know isn’t good for you.
"When do we leave?"
His smile is two parts relief and one-part confident roughie that makes me want to kiss him again. "Friday."
And just like that, I've said yes to the cowboy, yes to the danger, yes to the kind of man who can destroy me.
Thirteen
RUNNING IS RUNNING NO MATTER WHICH WAY YOU GO.
WYATT
Five generations of Halloway men have saddled horses in this barn, and this morning I swear I can feel them breathing down my neck.
I pull the blanket off the rack when my phone buzzes, and I can't help the grin that tugs at my mouth when I see Kinsley’s name.
Kinsley:How's the shoulder this morning?
I roll it experimentally. Still tight, still tender, but better than it's been. Doc would probably tell me I'm pushing it, saddling up to ride across the valley instead of staying put with ice and rest.
Good enough to get the job done, I text back, then lift the saddle onto Ace's back. The gelding's been my mount since Ihad more attitude than sense. He's steady as a rock and knows this country better than a GPS system.
My phone buzzes again.