Chapter 5
Willow
Istand inside Bennett’s entryway as Cannon gives me his cell number, the mix of warm woods and stone comforting despite the exasperation clouding my features as he speaks.
“You need to be careful. No going out alone at night. Keep your doors locked. Vary your routine.” His stance is wide, his muscles bulging through his brown leather jacket like always.
“I’m not a child who needs instructions on basic safety.”
He slides his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, his shoulders rigid. “I didn’t say you were.” His blue eyes are the color of deep glacier ice.
“You’re treating me like I am.”
His gaze holds mine, something shifting in it underneath his Stetson. “I’m treating you like someone I…” He stops, jaw clenching. “Just be careful.”
He turns toward the heavy custom door, hesitating before glancing back at me over his shoulder. “I’m gonna check the barn. Feel like coming with?”
This is a first. Cannon has never asked me to go anywhere. He’s actively avoided me for years, and I trailed along after him like a puppy. And when I finally decide not to set myself up for failure, he goes and does this. Logically, I know it’s because he doesn’t want me to feel alone.
My heart wants to ignore my logical side, but I refuse to get my hopes up again.
It’s just too painful.
The walk to the barn is silent except for the crunch of gravel under our boots. Small patches of snow dot the property, though not very much. We had a crazy winter storm not too long ago, so I’m glad for the clear walk.
The barn is maybe three hundred yards from the main house, and with each step, the massive timber structure grows larger against the evening sky, its angled metal roof catching remnants of the fading sun.
The temperature has dropped since we got back— it’s probably close to freezing now—and my breath forms tiny clouds in the night air. Around us, pine trees creak in the wind, and somewhere in the distance, a horse whickers softly
I wrap my arms around myself even though I have on my jacket. Cannon notices, shrugging out of his leather coat without a word and draping it over my shoulders. It smells like him, leather and cedar and something uniquely Cannon. It engulfs me, and I fight the urge to burrow into it.
Would he notice if I never gave it back?
Both sets of barn doors are open for the herd, so we walk through the main entrance framed by thick cedar columns and into the corridor that runs down the center.
The style is modern with a mix of wood and metal, but the door to each stall was made from the reclaimed wood of the original structure standing here.
I remember how proud Bennett was to show it off to my bestie, Tiff, and her kids. He included a practice arena for his niece, and I can still picture Bailey as she learned to ride. I text Tiff an update, then slip my phone back into my jacket pocket.
Inside the barn, the space is warm and dim, lit by sconces in lieu of overhead lighting.
I can hear horses shifting in their stalls, the rustle of straw, the occasional tail swishing against wood.
Seven or eight of the ten horses are inside tonight, the rest still in the paddock choosing to brave the cold.
Cannon checks the hay, ensuring it’s dry for the horses, then pulls up the security feed on a tablet mounted to the wall, but I can feel his attention on me rather than the screen. He clears his throat, then scrolls through the different cameras to put eyes on all the horses.
When we step outside, out the back of the barn toward the main paddock, the cold hits like a wall. Stars are twinkling overhead now, the trees casting dark silhouettes just behind the fenceline.
I call out to one of the older quarter horses, Duchess Blue. She’s my favorite, a white beauty with a sandy mane who’s standing near the far fence. “Come here, sweet girl.” I click my tongue loudly to get her attention, and she turns her elegant head toward us.
Duchess ambles over for some love, her movements almost regal. She’s massive, but gentle as she approaches, ears priced forward with interest. Her winter coat is thick and soft under my palms, and when she presses her velvet nose into my hand, her breath is warm and sweet with hay.
“She’s always liked you.” Cannon’s words are soft, which confuses me. What’s with all his attention today?
I mean, he’s never been rude to me, and we’ve engaged in many conversations over the years. But he’s always kept me at a distance, rarely commenting on anything personal. Interactions have been more about the herds, the news, or daily ranch happenings. Personal just isn’t his style.
Duchess Blue’s tail swishes lazily, and she shifts her weight, one hoof pawing at the dirt.
She tosses her head and presses her velvet nose firmly into my palm, nearly knocking me back a step.
I laugh and wrap my arms around her neck, breathing in the warm scent of hay and horse.
Her ears flick back toward me, listening, and I press my forehead against her mane.
“At least you’re easy to read, girl,” I murmur, stroking the horse’s snout.
She knickers in happiness before heading into the barn.
It’s normal for horses to have open access, particularly during the winter. It helps them stay out of the elements, but for Duchess Blue, I suspect she wants some peace. The other horses follow her around regularly, so now and then she needs her space.
I don’t hear him approach, but suddenly Cannon’s there, reaching past me to run his hand along Duchess’s shoulder.
His chest nearly brushes my back, and I go absolutely still.
His arm extends alongside mine, our hands landing on the horse’s neck close enough that when I shift my weight, my knuckles graze his.
The touch jolts through me like I’ve grabbed a live wire.
For a heartbeat, maybe two, his hand stays exactly where it is, warm and solid against mine. Then he clears his throat and adjusts his stance, putting a careful inch of space between us that somehow feels like a mile.
“Thanks for inviting me along to check on the barn, Cannon. Being out here is just what I needed.”
“I’m glad.”
The inches between us feels supercharged, like the air before a lightning strike. It’s silent except for the wind through the pines and the distant sound of horses shifting in the barn behind us. I can see his breath coming faster, white puffs in the frigid air.
The cowboy’s eyes drop to my mouth for just a second before he forces them back up, his hand running through his dark locks. The heat in that glance nearly undoes me, and my breath wavers, catching in my throat.
Like an iron shield raising, Cannon cuts his gaze from mine. “Willow—”
“Don’t.” I step closer, emboldened by years of wanting this man and a fresh batch of lust coursing through my veins.
“Do not say my name as if I’ve done something wrong.
I’ve been nothing but perfectly behaved since I got to Circle Ridge.
” I lean forward so he can see just how serious I am.
“This one-sided toxic mess is over as of now.”
Cannon’s hand lifts, almost involuntarily, his fingers grazing feather-light along my jaw. “You’re not imagining it.”
The words hang between us in the frigid air for a fraction of a second before I yank back from his touch, angry at his audacity.
“What are you doing?” My voice echoes slightly in the open space as the wind picks up. I step back another two feet just because I can.
“You’re so beautiful, Willow. You’re smart. You’re driven.” He closes the distance, his thumb brushes my cheekbone like I’m something to be savored. “You deserve sunshine, Willow. Not someone like me.”
“Don’t touch me, Cannon.” I bat at his hand in a huff.
His eyes search mine, and for a moment I think he might kiss me. Then he steps back, his hand falling away, and the loss of contact feels physical.
“And let’s be clear about one thing, Sawyer. I get to decide what I deserve. Not anybody else.” I jam my index finger into his chest to emphasize my point as I speak. “Not ever. Got it?”
“Got it.” A tiny grin threatens the corners of his mouth as he watches me with interest before shutting himself down and putting the mask of indifference back on.
Damn him and his dark hair and blue eyes and stellar build. I need to establish some clear boundaries before my resolve crumbles.
“Congratulations, Cannon. You win. And you know what? I do deserve sunshine. So I’m going to go find someone who can actually give it to me instead of—”
Before I can finish my sentence, his mouth crashes into mine, full of hunger and raw need. His hands are suddenly everywhere with one cradling my head, fingers threading through my hair, and the other arm banding around my waist and hauling me against his massive body.
His tongue sweeps against mine, tasting, claiming, and I melt into him completely. His kiss is better than anything I imagined... demanding and tender, possessive and reverent. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.
Cannon breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along my jaw, down my neck, finding that sensitive spot below my ear that makes my knees buckle.
“Three years,” he rasps against my skin. “Three friggin’ years I’ve wanted to do this, Willow.”
“Then stop talking and do it some more,” I manage, breathless.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me, before capturing my mouth again. This kiss is slower, deeper, filled with promise and heat and everything we’ve been holding back.
When he finally pulls away, we’re both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, his hands still cradling my face like I’m something precious. He kisses the tip of my nose, then grabs me by the hand and leads me out of the barn.
“Where are we going?”
Without looking back, he says, “My place.”