Chapter 15
Cruz
Waking up with Addison in my bed might just be the best high I’ve ever had. A part of me loves it so much that I wish I could start my day like this every day.
And as the week goes by, that’s basically what happens. Whether planned or not, we simply end up in one of our beds at the end of the night, waking up together in the morning.
I don’t especially like to admit when I’m wrong, but I was wrong about Addison Thatcher. She’s more than what she appeared to be when she’d stumbled into that barn a month ago. She’s funny and smart and so much deeper than I’d anticipated.
And fuck, I like her. A lot.
There’s still that little voice in the back of my head warning me, though. Telling me that girls like Addison like ambitious men. Men with goals and money and aspirations. And not that I’m broke or lazy, but my aspirations are … simpler.
Staying in Montana. Working on this ranch that I love, with people I love. Eventually marrying the woman of my dreams and having a few kids. Being happy.
It feels like enough to me, but I know from experience that not everyone feels the same way.
That’s what urged me to keep Addison at arm’s length despite the magnetic pull between us. And here I am, throwing caution to the wind. I just hope it’s worth it in the end.
With the sun dipping lower in the sky and the temperature of the day finally starting to fall, I make my way across the ranch to the mess hall.
Like I’ve done every day for the past week and a half, I span the large room and stride through the double doors of the kitchen to find Addison with an apron wrapped around her waist, her hair piled into an adorable mess of a bun.
Her eyes light up when she sees me, and my heart summersaults.
Fuck, this woman does things to me.
Hank shoots me a smirk on his way out the door, hands full of serving trays. While we haven’t officially labeled ourselves as anything, we also haven’t tried all that hard to hide it. We save any displays of affection for private—but we also eat together at almost all meal times.
With Hank gone, I press a kiss to her flour-covered cheek, and she blushes. “What masterpiece did you pull together today?” I ask her, looking over her shoulder.
She shrugs modestly, gesturing to a few trays of scones. “They’re savory,” she explains. “Cheese, chives, lots of butter.” She hands me one, and I break off a piece, popping it into my mouth.
I make a show of rolling my eyes back in my head, but I’m only half kidding. “Addison, these are so fucking good.”
She grins. “You think?”
I nod emphatically. “Have you eaten?” I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s a little after 7 p.m., and dinner has been out for over an hour at this point.
She shakes her head.
“Take a break from your artistry and come eat with me,” I order.
She chuckles, taking off her apron and smoothing her hair before following me out into the cafeteria. We grab dinner—Hank’s famous beef stew—as well as a few of Addison’s scones, before finding a free spot in the dining hall to sit.
Cora immediately zeroes in on Addison’s scones. “Did you make those?” she asks, leaning forward to get a better view of the small plate we’d brought over.
“Yeah, they’re savory,” Addison explains, passing the plate so Cora can take one.
She digs in immediately, then grins. “Ugh, these are good,” she says.
Addison waves off the praise, but I can tell she likes it.
“Are you making anything for the big dinner next week?” Cora asks.
Addison cocks her head in question.
“The Thatchers put on a somewhat fancy dinner every couple months for the staff. Hank goes all out—sometimes they hire out other cooks too,” I remind her, even though I remember she’d attended on the first week she was here.
Addison nods in remembrance. “Oh yeah. I, uh … I don’t know. I doubt my baking is up to par,” she says with a shrug.
“Are you kidding me?” Cora leans forward, holding her half-eaten scone aloft. “This is the best thing I’ve eaten all year. No offense to Hank or anyone else,” she adds with a chuckle.
Addison’s cheeks pinken just a touch, and it makes my chest constrict in an increasingly familiar way.
“Seriously, Addison, you should do it,” Cora says, taking another bite.
Addison’s gaze flits to mine, wanting my input.
I grin at her. “Do you want to?”
She shrugs.
“You should do it,” I encourage. “You’re talented, and you obviously love it.” And it’s true. The way she’s practically radiating joy and contentment when I find her in the kitchen, the way her face lights up when people try her food. Addison loves this. And I love it for her.
“Well, what if Hank—” she starts.
“Hank will say yes,” I insert. “If he hasn’t thought about it already.”
She laughs.
Theo comes over with a tray of food, setting it down beside Cora.
“Try this,” Cora instructs, holding up a scone to his mouth. His eyes widen momentarily before obeying and opening, taking a small bite.
“Good boy,” she teases with a giggle, and Theo just about chokes.
God if these two don’t hurry up and fuck each other already, the entire ranch just might murder them. Theo struggles to regain his composure, Cora absolutely oblivious as she tucks a strand of her short, blonde hair behind her ear.
Theo swallows, then nods. “Wow. This is good.” He then zeroes in on Addison. “You made this?” he deduces.
She nods.
“There better be more of these in the kitchen,” he mutters before grabbing one of his own.
Addison’s grinning from ear to ear, swirling the stew in her bowl with her spoon. “Okay,” she says with a shrug. “I’ll talk to Hank.”