Chapter Twenty-One
She drags me through the back hallway of the bar toward a door with a sign reading Patio.
The second it opens, cool night air rushes in.
The outside deck stretches across the back of the building like an old back porch someone keeps adding on to.
It’s dimly lit.
A few torches flicker along the railing, their flames dancing in the breeze and casting long shadows across the weathered wood planks beneath our feet.
The railing itself is rough split timber, worn smooth in places from years of people leaning against it.
Old wooden benches and built-in seating tuck into dark alcoves along the bar’s outer wall, creating little pockets of privacy.
A couple sits in one of them, sharing a cigarette and whispering to each other, oblivious to the rest of the world.
Another pair sits in front of a small gas fire table, speaking quietly.
The rest of the deck is empty.
Harleigh doesn’t stop walking until she reaches the far side.
Away from everyone.
She plants both hands on the railing and leans forward slightly, inhaling deeply.
“God,” she says, drawing out the word. “Fresh air.”
I step up behind her.
She turns slowly and leans her back against the split wood railing.
Her head tips back as she looks up at me.
The torchlight flickers across her face.
She reaches up and runs a finger between my eyebrows. “So serious,” she mutters. “What are you thinking?”
I shove a hand through my hair and glance out into the darkness beyond the deck. “Honestly?”
She nods.
I exhale slowly.
“I’m just trying to figure out how my day ended up here. With you. On the patio of a dive bar in Wildhaven in the middle of the night.”
Her mouth curves into a crooked smile. “I guess you’re just lucky.”
I huff out a quiet laugh.
Maybe.
Or maybe I’ve lost my mind.
My gaze drops to her bare shoulders.
The night air has turned her skin slightly pink, and tiny goose bumps rise along her arms.
Without really thinking about it, I lift my hands and begin to rub along her upper arms. Warming her skin.
“It’s cold out here,” I murmur.
She steps forward.
Right into me.
Her body presses lightly against mine.
“I didn’t notice,” she says softly.
Shit.
Her eyes hold mine.
There’s something different in them now.
Less teasing.
My hands continue to slide down her arms slowly before drifting back up again.
She shivers slightly, but it’s not from the cold.
One of her hands lifts.
Her fingers brush my chest before she reaches up and sweeps her hair behind one ear.
The movement exposes the curve of her neck.
My eyes follow it automatically.
“We can’t do this, Harleigh,” I say hoarsely, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Do what?” she asks. Her voice barely a whisper.
“The what I see behind your eyes.”
She sucks in a breath.
I swallow and glance back toward the door. “I should leave.” The words come out rougher than I intended.
Her lips press together briefly.
“Yeah,” she says quietly. “You probably should.”
Neither of us moves.
The torches crackle softly behind us.
The couple in the alcove murmurs in low voices, and somewhere inside the bar, someone cheers.
But out here, it feels like the world has narrowed down to the few inches between us.
I should step back.
Turn around.
Walk to my vehicle and drive my ass home.
She’s so young, and she works for me.
Being here is reckless on so many levels.
Complicated.
Dangerous.
A terrible fucking idea.
And yet …
Instead of stepping away, I lift my hand.
I cup the back of her neck, and my thumb slides gently beneath her chin.
I tilt her face up toward mine.
Her breath catches.
“Porter …” she whispers.
I don’t answer. Instead, my face lowers slowly. Giving her time to pull away if she wants to.
My lips brush the line of her jaw.
Barely a touch.
She inhales sharply.
My mouth drifts to the corner of hers.
“Porter,” she breathes again, but she doesn’t stop me.
Her fingers grip the front of my flannel, both fists clenched around the fabric. Then she pulls me closer and crashes her mouth to mine.
The kiss is hungry.
All the tension that’s been simmering between us tonight detonates in one instant.
My body presses into hers until her backside hits the railing behind her.
Her mouth moves against mine like she’s been waiting all night to do it.
Hell, I know I have.
I nip at her bottom lip, asking for entrance, as all thoughts of walking away dissipate.
She moans as my tongue dips inside, and she tips her head back, granting me better access.
My hands fall to her ass. I hoist her up onto the railing, and her legs circle my waist instinctively.
She threads her fingers through my hair, and I groan as she pulls roughly on the strands.
My erection grows painful as her hips begin to move against me, seeking friction.
I want nothing more than to carry her to one of the dark alcoves and tug her into my lap, but instead, I wrench my mouth from hers.
She sits, stunned and breathless. I rest my forehead against hers briefly before releasing my hold on her.
Her chest rises and falls quickly.
“Well,” she whispers breathlessly, “that escalated quickly.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “You started it.”
“Mmm, that’s debatable.”
“You’re trouble,” I murmur.
She smirks. Her fingers are still twisted in my flannel. “So I’ve been told.”
“You’re also my employee,” I add quietly.
Her eyes flicker. “Not tonight, remember?” she says. “Tonight, we’re just Harleigh and Porter.”
My jaw tightens. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’ll be your boss come Monday morning.”
She frowns, and her fingers slowly loosen from my shirt, gently pressing against my chest. My heart pounds against them.
“No, it doesn’t,” she agrees.
And that’s the problem. Pretending won’t change a thing.
My fingers brush along her tattoo. The words ringing true tonight. She is a wildfire.
Her eyes close briefly at the touch.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
The night air shifts slightly, and a strong breeze moves across the deck.
She shivers again.
My arms move before I can stop them. Pulling her against me.
Her cheek presses against my shoulder. Her body fits against mine like it was meant to be there, her breath warm against my throat. The darkness of the patio hides us from the world.
And I just hold her.
The stolen moment stretches.
She’s still in my arms when the door swings open.
Music and voices explode out onto the deck.
“Well, there you two are!”
Harleigh jerks slightly in my arms.
I glance over her shoulder and see Charli stepping onto the patio with one hand braced on the doorframe, squinting through the dim light until she spots us at the railing.
Her grin spreads immediately.
“Oh good,” she says, strolling toward us like she’s discovered exactly what she expected to find. “You didn’t take off on us.”
Harleigh clears her throat and hops down from the railing.
The loss of her warmth hits immediately.
Charli stops a few feet away and plants her hands on her hips. “So, here’s the situation,” she announces.
I fold my arms.
“Cabe got a mysterious text and bailed.”
Harleigh blinks. “What?”
She shrugs. “Phone buzzed. He read it. Then, suddenly, he had somewhere to be. So,” she continues brightly, “it looks like you’re everyone’s ride home, handsome.”
I stare at her for a second.
Then I nod once. “All right.”
Honestly …
That’s probably a good thing.
Because if Harleigh and I were left alone out here much longer, I’m not entirely convinced I’d have the willpower to keep my hands to myself.
Not after that kiss.
So, I step away from the railing and gesture toward the door. “Lead the way.”
Charli spins around triumphantly. “Excellent.”
I wait for Harleigh to walk ahead, then follow the two of them.
When we step back inside, the noise of the bar crashes over us again—music thumping, glasses clinking, people shouting over darts.
Bryce is standing at the bar, tucking his card in his wallet while the bartender prints the receipt.
Waylon is standing behind him with his arm around Shelby’s waist, who is very unsteady.
I jog over to our abandoned table, scoop Harleigh’s jacket off the back of the chair, and carry it to her.
She slips it on without a word. Her eyes avoiding mine.
Bryce signs the receipt and slides it back to the bartender.
“All good,” he says, turning toward us.
Waylon manages to get Shelby pointed toward the exit.
“All right, people,” he calls, “let’s move.”
Shelby waves dramatically at the room. “Good night, Soused Cows!”
A few people cheer.
Charli laughs and grabs Shelby’s other arm.
Between the two of them, they guide her toward the door.
I step up beside Harleigh and place my hand gently on the small of her back.
The contact sends a small spark through me.
She glances up at me briefly. Just for a second.
Then we follow the others outside.
My Escalade is parked near the far edge of the parking lot under a flickering streetlight.
I press the fob in my front pocket to unlock it.
Waylon opens the back door and practically tosses Shelby into the second row.
She collapses into the leather seat, laughing.
Charli jumps in next, and Bryce slides in beside her.
Waylon shuts the door and walks around to the other side. Harleigh follows him.
Then she opens the front passenger door and hops in.
I climb behind the steering wheel.
“Everybody buckled?” I ask.
“Yes, Dad,” Charli says from the back.
I shake my head and pull out of the lot.
The drive toward the ranch is quiet at first.
Then Charli starts talking.
And once she starts …
She does not stop.
Shelby contributes the occasional drunken comment.
Apparently, they’re dissecting the entire evening.
The band’s performance.
Cabe’s mystery woman.
And the hilarity of me getting hustled by their “pool shark” baby sister.
Harleigh, meanwhile, sits beside me, quietly staring out the passenger window.
After a few minutes, I glance at her.
She hasn’t moved.
My hand leaves the steering wheel and settles gently on her thigh.
Her breath catches almost imperceptibly, but she doesn’t react. Not at first.
Then her hand slides over mine.
She doesn’t look at me.
Just covers my hand with hers.
A few seconds later, her fingers slip between mine.
I tighten my grip slightly.
Neither of us says anything.
But the silence between us feels loaded.
Our first stop is at Ironhorse Ranch.
Waylon jumps out, and Shelby practically falls into his arms.
“I love you,” she declares loudly.
Waylon chuckles and hoists her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Night, folks,” he calls before slamming the door shut and walking toward his cabin.
Ten minutes later, we reach the entrance of Wildhaven Storm.
I pull up in front of the ranch house.
Bryce is already opening the back door before I come to a complete stop.
“Thanks for the ride,” he says, climbing out.
“No problem.”
He walks around to help Charli down.
They start toward a path that leads around the side of the house but pause halfway there, and Charli glances back at us.
“Oh, hey.”
I lower my window. “Yeah?”
“The academy’s new staff cabins are furnished,” she says. “And vacant.”
Her eyes dart to Harleigh—she’s still sitting in the passenger seat, staring at the house—before returning to me.
“If you want to crash instead of driving all the way back to Moose tonight.”
“Thanks,” I say.
She grins. “Key’s under the mat. Harleigh can show you. Have a good night.”
Once they’re out of sight, I turn to Harleigh. My thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles.
“You want me to go?” I ask quietly.
She doesn’t answer out loud, just shakes her head slightly as she stares down at our hands.
Something in my chest tightens.
I glance back toward the gravel road leading out of the ranch.
Then at her again.
Fuck it.
I pull closer to the barn and park.
Harleigh finally looks over at me.
“Where are these cabins?”