Chapter Three #2
He gave Willow a short nod and walked outside, moving in clipped strides toward Willow’s truck. Even though he didn’t know how to respond to her claim that they cared about him like family, he was still grateful for her generosity.
The same way she’d seen what he needed in those early months after he entered the program, she saw his need for escape now—and provided it without pause.
The cold night air hit him hard after the heat of the bar. He climbed into the truck and sat there watching the Stockyard windows glow against the dark as thoughts kept circling in his head faster than he could shut them down.
Summer avoiding him.
Rhae assessing him.
Willow roping him into the big ranch family that wasn’t his at all, but she was more than willing to share.
As the night wore on, customers trickled out. Trucks started leaving the parking lot one by one but he stayed where he was, wondering why the hell he was waiting for a woman who was finished with him.
Eventually the thrum of music stopped. A little later, lights started blinking off inside the building section by section until only the glow over the exit and the neon sign remained.
Pope checked the time, then pushed open the truck door.
I’m probably crazy, he thought as he crossed the parking lot and went to stand beside Summer’s vehicle, settling his spine against it while he waited for her to come out.
* * * * *
By the time Summer flicked off the last of the lights in the Stockyard, her feet hurt, her back ached and her patience had been gnawed down to almost nothing.
“Night,” she called to the last two coworkers as they headed for the back door with their coats zipped up and their keys already in hand.
“Night, Summer.”
“See you Saturday.”
She lifted a hand, then stood for a second in the dim back hall, listening to the building settle around her.
The bar always felt different after close, hollow where it had been packed with noise an hour before.
The chairs were pushed in and the tables cleared, the kitchen shut down and the dance floor empty.
She hated closing, and even though it was only three nights a week, she never got used to it.
She could handle the fatigue of an extra-long day. Being tired was a fact of life, right there with bills and school forms and Ben outgrowing clothes faster than she could replace them.
It was the leaving in the dark that got to her. The back lot never looked the same at three a.m. as it did when she arrived for her shift. Shadows stretched too far and wind moved trash along the fence. Every truck left behind looked like it might have a person inside.
There was a time when none of this bothered her.
When she counted on Vander to be waiting for her, to make sure she got home safe.
Drawing a deep breath, she stepped out into the cold and the door shut behind her.
The mountain air hit her face hard enough to wake her a little, cutting through the heat that still clung to her skin after hours of running plates to customers and hauling drink trays.
She tugged her jacket tighter around herself, the keys to her old car threaded between her fingers because that was habit now, and she started across the lot.
Then she saw him.
Vander leaned against her vehicle like he had every night before she called it off. Like he had every right to be there.
One shoulder pressed into the driver’s door, cowboy hat pulled low, arms folded over his broad chest she’d spent countless hours running her hands over.
The overhead light caught the hard line of his jaw and the width of his shoulders. For a few seconds, she forgot how to move.
Oh god.
When she got in arms’ reach of him, she wanted to be kissing him.
The thought hit so immediate and honest that it almost knocked the breath out of her. It had been months since she’d touched him—or felt his touch.
Months since she’d said what needed to be said and watched him leave while her chest split wide open.
And still, there he was, burning every good reason into ash just by waiting beside her car.
Seeing him made her feel like she was in a desert and he was the one drink of water. Not a sip but a full, cold glass pressed right to her parched lips when she’d been pretending she wasn’t thirsty.
She was safe with Vander. And also not.
He would never hurt her—she knew that down to her bones.
He wasn’t the kind of man who preyed on anyone weaker than him.
But he was dangerous to the places she couldn’t guard, the ones where a soft touch felt too much like a promise and a man waiting in the dark made her forget about empty bank accounts.
She couldn’t be near him without wanting him. And that was the real danger.
Forgetting why she’d backed away would mean believing maybe this time would be different when she knew better.
She kept walking toward him in slow steps, each pulling more emotion from a well she’d capped off the night he walked out of her bedroom. She felt relief that he was there and anger that he’d waited.
Hurt that he looked so normal when she was a mess inside.
And shame that she’d missed him so much it had become a persistent ache she carried through school pickups and second-grade math homework and quiet nights when Ben was asleep.
She told herself she was over it. But she’d lied.
“Vander.” His name came out quieter than she planned.
He unfolded from her car with the kind of slow control that made every nerve in her body pay attention. He didn’t approach her, just stood there, all contained power and burning eyes.
He looked at her like the months between them never existed.
“Can I talk to you a minute?” He took a single step. “There are things I want to say.”
That chasm in her chest that she’d been trying to close all this time cracked open wider.
She couldn’t do this in a parking lot in the middle of the night with her feet hurting and her body tired and all her defenses worn thin. If he apologized, she’d soften. If he argued, she’d hurt.
If he told her he missed her, she might do the stupidest thing possible and step into his arms like she had so many other nights.
“If you’re going to ask if I really meant it about not seeing each other…yes.”
The words tasted bitter, but she got them out.
His face changed almost imperceptibly—just a tightening around his hard lips and a stillness in his eyes that hit worse than if he’d reacted.
Vander always did that—took the blow without showing where it landed.
For one painful heartbeat, neither of them moved.
“Okay.” That was all. No fight from him, no pushing back.
Just like the night he walked out of her bedroom.
He looked toward her car, then back at her. “I’ll make sure your car starts.”
Her throat clamped enough that she almost hated him for it because this was exactly the kind of thing he did. He wasn’t punishing her for breaking things off. He was just here to make sure she was okay.
He stepped aside, and she edged past him, holding her breath because she knew one whiff of his cologne would shove her off the end of sanity. She unlocked her door, and he waited while she got in.
Before she could duck fully inside, he reached for her.
Summer froze, heart pounding.
He brought one hand up to the side of her face, warm despite the chill in the spring air, and he lowered his lips to her forehead.
The kiss was soft, brief and so careful it hurt worse than anything he could have said.
She closed her eyes before she could stop her reaction.
He let her go.
Summer slid into the driver’s seat, body begging her to climb back out and make a mess of every decision she’d fought to uphold.
She turned the key, and the engine coughed once before it caught. Vander stood there until the car idled. Her eyes burned as she battled to keep from looking at him as she pulled out of the parking space and headed toward the road.
When he walked back toward a lone black truck in the corner of the lot, her headlights panned over him.
She made it ten feet.
The steering pulled hard to the side, and the car gave a low, ugly dragging noise that made her stomach drop.
“No, no, no, no.”
She eased off the gas, but she already knew what was wrong before she came to a stop. She could feel it in the way the car lurched, and that movement meant money and time and another problem stacked on top of a day already piled high with problems.
She put the car in park and climbed out. She walked around to the passenger side to see the flat tire sagging nearly to the rim.
Of course this would happen when she was alone and had already sent Vander away.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, fighting the sting in her eyes.
Footsteps crossed the gravel behind her, and suddenly he was at her side, not asking why she stopped—he already seemed to know.
He crouched beside the tire, his shoulder brushing her leg as he looked at the tire.
“Yeah. You’re not driving on that.”
Summer stared down at the brim of his hat concealing his face and his strong hands prodding the tire like he could pump it back to life.
He pushed out of his crouch. “At least the car’s out of the way. Do you have a service to cover the tow? If not, I’m sure I can borrow a truck—”
She shook her head. “I have coverage through my insurance.”
He gave her a single nod. “Will you let me give you a ride home? No strings. Just making sure you’re okay.”
Her throat burned on all the things she wanted to say to him.
And how badly she wanted to let him stay.