Chapter 4 – Wilder
I lead Teagan back through the barn and into the pool house where she’s decided she wants to sleep tonight.
Once inside, I make sure the bed has fresh sheets, a comfortable pillow, and toss her one of my button-up flannels to change into so that she doesn't have to sleep in the black dress she's been wearing.
"Is there anything else you need?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
“I can sleep inside the ranch house if you want, or out here on the couch. Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable and safe.”
“The couch in here is fine,” she says.
I nod, unsure of what more to say. I'm too wired to go to sleep now, I usually stay up and watch a little bit of TV to wind down before bed unless I’ve been working all day in the hot, Texan sun, then I fall right asleep, muscles spent from the physical exertion, but after spending the last few hours sitting with Dalton at the bar and then getting sprayed in the face, I’m not tired at all.
“Good night, Teagan.”
“Good night, Wilder,” she responds.
I close the bedroom door behind me and head to the couch that’s in the middle of my kitchen and living room combined area.
Realizing I'm still in the jeans and t-shirt I wore all night, now tainted with pepper spray, I strip down to just my boxers.
Stretching out on the couch, I feel the ache in my tired limbs.
Tomorrow will be a long day, and even though it's the weekend, work on the ranch never stops and my dad needs me to work with our new baby calves.
My mind drifts back over the events of the evening and how only a few hours before I'd planned on coming home alone and turning in early. Now, I have a beautiful woman sleeping in my bed a few feet away who I've barely asked a single question to.
I shake my head, feeling like an idiot. There was a look in her eyes, something behind those big green orbs that made me think she wanted me to stay and talk before I closed the door to the bedroom.
But what the hell do I know about what women want? And what would I even say to her?
I rub my face with my hands as I lay back, realizing that I spent an entire two hours with Teagan and know almost nothing about her. All I know is her name—that she's twenty-two, her sister is getting married, and she has a soft spot for abandoned kittens.
Cody would kick my ass right now if he knew how I behaved tonight.
You see, he was born first, head down and ready to dive in and conquer the world from the moment that he entered it.
I’d arrived a full ten minutes later after some painful back labor and giving my parents a scare with my dropping heart rate.
According to my dad, I'd peek a toe out, testing the waters before retreating back into the safety of my mother’s womb.
They’d had to call 911 because Cody made his entrance so fast but by the time I finally came out, I was breech and looked like I’d have preferred to stay in a while longer.
It's not fear that governs my life; I just don’t make rash decisions anymore.
Once upon a time, I had. Back then, I jumped into things headfirst, guided by impulse and na?ve optimism, only to land flat on my ass with a bruised heart and a head full of harsh life lessons.
Now? Now, I prefer to think things through, map out the terrain, and choose the path that doesn’t lead to some major, life-altering mistake.
I like to take my time.
I’m not one of those book boyfriends from the romance novels my cousin Georgia Cameron devours like candy.
The kind of guy who storms into a woman’s life with a smirk and a smolder, takes charge of the conversation, and has her on her knees—or in bed—the first time they meet.
I only know about those guys because, one summer, while Georgia and I hung out by the pool, I swiped one of her books out of sheer curiosity.
I’d been trying to figure out what women were into, what made their hearts race, what made their bodies respond.
I’ll admit, I was curious. But reading that book?
Man, it was a trip. Those guys… They went from strangers to soulmates faster than you could say "happily ever after.
" One look, one heated glance, and suddenly, it was love.
No awkward small talk. No figuring out if they had the same values or even liked the same movies. Just instant fireworks and earth-shattering orgasms.
That’s not my style.
I prefer a slow burn—the kind of love that starts with a spark and grows over time, building heat until it’s impossible to ignore. Might take a few years for them to come together, but when they do, it’s undeniable.
But even a slow burn has to start somewhere, and the bit I’d spoken to Teagan tonight is hardly what I’d call a good beginning.
When I finally get back into dating someday, when I decide it’s time to settle down again, it’s going to be for the long haul. Next time, I’ll do it right. No rushing. No second-guessing. No “I think this might work.” I’ll be sure. I’ll be steady. I’ll build something that lasts.
But as I lie back on the couch, running a hand over my face, I can’t help but feel like I’ve already started falling into something with Teagan—something I didn’t plan for. Something I don’t know how to stop. And maybe it’s the most unexpected encounters that lead to something good.
The couch creaks as I shift, closing my eyes and letting out a deep, tired sigh. I wish sleep would take me. Maybe if I can shut my brain off for a while, I’ll have the clarity I need come morning. Maybe then, I’ll say the right thing instead of stumbling over myself like some clueless idiot.
But sleep feels impossible with Teagan so close. She’s just down the hall, tucked into my bed, her soft scent still lingering in the air and probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
She deserves better than that.
She deserves better than a guy who overthinks every move, who lies on a couch while she’s in his bed, wondering if she’s making a mistake.
But she’s also the first woman who’s made me feel like this in years.
The first woman who’s made me want to believe in something reckless and impossible, like the stories Georgia swears by.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s worth the risk.
I throw an arm over my eyes and let out a low groan, trying to drown out the chaos in my head.
But the creak of my bedroom door pulls me back to the moment that I’m living in.
Sitting up, I catch sight of Teagan stepping out—wearing nothing but my checkered flannel.
It’s buttoned neatly down the front, hanging just high enough to tease the tops of her thighs, and every inch of her smooth, sun-kissed skin has my attention locked.
She crosses the room slowly, her bare feet silent against the floor, until she’s standing right in front of me. Her gaze is steady, her expression serious, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. Her chest rises and falls with a rhythm that matches the tension humming between us.
I sit up on the couch and ask, “Is everything ok?”
She nods. “I just wanted to come out here and say thank you again for tonight," she whispers. “For everything.”