Chapter Eight
Reid
I wake up feeling like I swallowed barbed wire. Last night was a mistake. A mistake I can still taste.
I rub a hand over my face, trying to push away the memory of Sadie, soft and warm in the firelight, looking up at me like I was worth kissing. Looking at me like I was hers.
I sit up abruptly, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. This was supposed to be easy. Simple. A business arrangement. But now my body aches for something I have no business wanting, and worse, I know she also wants it.
I can’t let this happen. Distance. I need space. Before she starts thinking this is real.
I throw on my flannel, pull my boots on tight, and shove open the bedroom door. The smell of cinnamon and coffee hits me immediately, warm and rich in the air. And then her voice. Humming. Light and easy. Like she didn’t spend last night tangled up in the same mess as me.
When I step into the kitchen, she’s at the stove, wearing one of those too-damn-cheerful dresses she’s been parading around in, her hair loose down her back, barefoot. Barefoot. In my kitchen. Like she’s been here forever.
I should turn around. Shouldn’t let this get any deeper. But before I can make a move, she spins around, spatula in hand, and flashes me that bright, wide smile.
“Morning, husband.”
The word hits like a sucker punch. I grab my coffee mug off the counter, ignoring the way my fingers tighten around the handle. Don’t react. Don’t give her an inch.
“Morning,” I say gruffly, pouring my coffee black.
“You sleep okay?” she asks, far too chipper.
Not a damn bit. “Fine.”
She doesn’t press, just keeps flipping pancakes like nothing happened, like I didn’t kiss her senseless last night and then leave her sitting there, stunned. Like she’s not still thinking about it the way I am.
But then, when she glances back at me, I catch something just for a second. A flicker of something unsure.
Good. Maybe she’s feeling the weight of this too.
“I’m heading out,” I say, voice rough. “Won’t be back ‘til late.”
Her hand hesitates over the pan, just a fraction of a second, but then she flips the last pancake onto a plate and pastes on another too-sunny smile.
“Oh! Well, that’s perfect,” she says. “I was planning to head into town anyway. Annie asked me to help her at the café today.”
I frown. “Annie? You’ve been here two days and you’ve got a job?”
She looks at me like I’m slow. “Yeah, you know—owns the little coffee shop by the general store? She’s the one who gave me that peach cobbler yesterday. Super sweet.” She smiles at me like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “And it’s not a job, I’m just helping a friend.”
Of course, Sadie made friends in one day. I grunt, taking a sip of my coffee. Annie is sweet, she tries to strike up a conversation every time I’m in town.
Sadie tilts her head, watching me. “Why don’t you ever go into town?”
I stiffen. “No reason to.”
Her smile fades, just a little. “That’s not what they say.”
My jaw tightens. “I don’t give a damn what they say.”
She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure seem awfully defensive.”
I glare at her, but she just grins setting the plate of pancakes on the table. “You should come with me.”
I snort. “Not a chance.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”
I level her with a look. “Sadie. I don’t do fun.”
She huffs, crossing her arms. “That is so tragic, Reid. Honestly. Do you hear yourself?”
I down the rest of my coffee, setting the mug in the sink with a little too much force. “I’m not going to town.”
She shrugs, turning back to the counter. “Suit yourself. But I think they miss you.”
I don’t respond. Because if I do, I might say something I don’t mean.
Instead, I head for the door, grabbing my coat off the hook. “Don’t wait up.”
She doesn’t stop me. But just as I step outside, I hear her mutter under her breath—just loud enough for me to catch it.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, husband .”
Damn woman. I slam the door behind me, but the warmth of her voice follows me into the cold.