Chapter Nineteen
Sunlight probes me awake, and I pry my eyes open, turning over in the bed I definitely haven’t been sleeping in these past few nights. The sun is muted behind the curtains, but it provides enough light for me to see I’m in Silas’s bedroom and he’s in here with me.
I look at where he’s sleeping in the chair opposite the bed, slumped down with his head resting in his hand.
He appears softer in sleep, younger. The lines around his eyes gone, the stern brow smoothed out, but he doesn’t look comfortable folded up like that.
His big body is barely in the chair at all, knees spread wide, and I feel terrible that I took his bed.
I hadn’t meant to fall asleep; I was just trying to clear my mind, keep the nightmare of what happened in the driveway from dragging me down. It worked, I guess, because I don’t remember falling asleep. One minute I was talking and the next… I’m sitting in the middle of his bed.
His scent surrounds me, wrapping me up like a warm embrace. Spicy and exciting, it’s the type of smell you want to bury yourself in, the kind you just can’t get enough of. It’s Silas, and that’s simply enough to keep wanting more.
Bringing the neck of the tee I borrowed to my face, I inhale, letting it warm me through.
He took care of me last night, chased away the fear and held me when I felt like I was falling apart.
He makes me feel safe, too safe. How am I meant to want to leave this when my time comes to move on with my life?
The skin across my knees pulls tight as I push the sheets off and climb from the bed, the small grazes scabbed over and dried. I try to be as quiet as I can as I tiptoe toward the bedroom door, but apparently the man is a light sleeper. I guess he needs to be with two small children in the house.
“Juni,” his voice is full of gravel, raspy from sleep, but he clears his throat and pushes to sit up straight, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. “You’re awake.”
“I’m sorry,” I pull my bottom lip into my mouth as I watch him stand and stretch out his muscles, hearing his joints crack. I wince, knowing that was likely caused by sleeping all folded up like that in the chair while I slept peacefully in his bed. “You should have woken me.”
He crosses over to the nightstand and opens the top drawer, pulling out a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses that he then slips on.
“Wait, you wear glasses?”
“Contacts usually,” he shrugs, “I only wear these if I read in bed or working late.”
I’m staring. I know I’m staring but I can’t fucking help it. How can glasses make him even more attractive? Like, what is it about those frames that just… ugh, just look at him.
“Did you sleep okay?” He asks. He either doesn’t notice me ogling him or is choosing to ignore it.
I drop my eyes to my bare feet, the paint on my nails chipped and growing out. “Yes.”
“Good,” His eyes keep me pinned to the bed as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, “We didn’t find anyone on the ranch last night, but I called it in to the sheriff’s office.”
Before I can open my mouth to resist, he shakes his head. “No official report, just a note. If something happens again, then they have an incident noted down which will keep timestamps and make it easier for us to protect you.”
I think back to the figure, still stuck on the shape of them and how wrong it looked.
My first instinct is that it was my husband—ex husband—because he would do it.
He would scare me in the hope that it would force me to run back to him, but the more I go over what I remember, the less I believe it was him. “I don’t know if it was Cal.”
“He’s still on Scott Ranch,” he tells me, “But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t sent anyone this way. Right now, I don’t know if he knows where you are, so we play it safe.”
“Thank you.” I drop my eyes, watching my finger as it picks at a raw bit of skin on the side of my thumbnail.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he says softly, drawing my eyes back to him. I watch as he stands, making his way to the ensuite. He pauses on the threshold, “And you don’t need to apologize for falling asleep. I’d rather you sleep and I watch over you than you sit up all night alone.”
The door clicks closed behind him.
Watch me.
Did he watch over me last night?
My stomach does a weird little flip that has me running from the room. That’s some dangerous territory right there.
Heading straight for the kitchen, I get a pot of coffee brewing and then pull two mugs from the cupboard.
I’ve been watching Silas fix his coffee every morning and can remember exactly how he likes it, so once the coffee is ready, I pour his cup and then fix my own.
I have my mug cradled in my hands when he finally comes out of his bedroom, but my coffee goes down the wrong way when I see he’s in a pair of dark jeans and only dark jeans.
The button is open, showing the band of his boxers, and he’s rubbing a towel over his hair, a couple of water droplets clinging to his chest and shoulders.
I’ve seen muscles, obviously, but this is a whole new game.
The ladder of his abs is so well defined they may as well be cut from stone, and a deep V carves his hips while a trail of dark hair travels from his navel and disappears beneath the band of his underwear.
His skin is kissed by the sun, tanned, and the veins in his forearms pop out as his biceps flex while he towel-dries his hair.
I’m still sputtering, trying to come up for air when he reaches me, a frown pulling his stern brow down. The glasses are gone again, the gold of his eyes molten and swirling.
His hand pats me on the back, and I think I melt into an embarrassed puddle right in the middle of the kitchen floor. Death by abs. Not the worst way to go, I suppose.
I finally manage to catch my breath, placing my coffee down and step away from his hand, clutching my chest as I turn to face him. “Went down the wrong way.”
I cannot help but look again now he’s closer, tracing the ridges and valleys of his body, the way the muscles move at his ribcage, and the definition of the muscles around his shoulders, his collarbones sharp.
A strong throat, sharp jaw and a smirk that’s pulling on that perfectly delicious mouth of his. A smirk that wasn’t there just a moment ago.
My eyes bounce up to his, and he’s watching me intently. He clearly just saw me checking him out.
Dear God, take me now.
I feel the heat bloom in my cheeks, my scalp prickling, and that smirk turns to a teasing grin.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Honeybee?” His head cocks to the side and his eyes dip down me.
I’m still in his pajama pants, the bottoms so long they’re covering my feet even though I’ve rolled the waistband several times to try to hike them up a little.
The T-shirt is huge, hanging off one shoulder.
It’s so far from sexy, but the way he’s looking at me is suggesting otherwise.
A both familiar and foreign feeling uncurls in my lower abdomen, making all my muscles pull tight as warmth begins to bloom. I haven’t felt this in a very long time.
“I’m good,” I squeak.
Those sharp canines appear when he smiles just a little wider, “You can look all you like.”
My breath catches.
“In fact, I think I quite like your eyes on me the way they just were.”
Is he… is he flirting with me?
He steps closer and his scent wraps around me, fresher now he’s showered and used the products that give him it. He’s so close, I feel the warmth of him press against me though no part of me is touching him.
“Silas,” his name is a breath that whispers from my lips, the urge to step into him almost too much to ignore.
A finger curls beneath my chin, and the rest of the world slips away. I feel my heart hammering in my chest, thumping so hard I can hear it pulsing in my ears. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to forget it all and pretend nothing else exists.
His eyes bounce from my eyes to my mouth and then back again, the smile slipping away as his throat works on a swallow. He leans, just a little bit closer, close enough his minty breath brushes across my lips.
He’s going to kiss me.
And I’m going to let him.
I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted something more. I can only imagine what that facial hair will feel like scratching against me, how those lips will press to mine. I push onto my toes, getting closer.
“Daddy!” Rosie’s voice sounds a moment before the sound of her feet running fills the kitchen. The two of us practically leap apart, and I spin away, pretending to be busy by opening a drawer even though I’m simply just staring at cutlery.
“Hey bug,” There’s a tightness in Silas’s voice, a barely held restraint, but I don’t dare look at him. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did!” She pulls a chair out, the legs scraping across the floor, and climbs onto it. “I want pancakes.”
Silas tuts, “That isn’t how we ask, now is it?” He scolds gently.
“Sorry,” her little voice sounds sincere, “Please, may I have pancakes?”
“Better,” he praises her. “I can make you pancakes.”
“Thank you,” she answers politely.
I’m still staring at forks and spoons when Silas steps up behind me, his bare chest pressing against my spine. “I just need to get the mix.” He says it quietly, his voice vibrating through me, breath whispering against the shell of my ear.
“Okay,” I breathe.
He reaches above me and pulls down a bag, placing it on the side before his voice is back.
“Are they talking to you?”
“Who?” I frown.
“The spoons.”
The drawer slams shut as I go hot from head to toe.
“We may have been interrupted, Juniper,” The way he says my full name makes me shiver, “But don’t think for one second we’re not revisiting this.”
That dangerous territory we were dancing in has just become a full-blown battle. His words have an ache spreading through me, starting from my lower abdomen and down to my thighs.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I breathe, and even to my ears the words aren’t convincing.
“I don’t give a fuck about good ideas right now.” He growls.
“Why are you guys whispering?” Rosie pipes up from behind us.
“I can’t hear you.” Then a quick, sharp gasp leaves her, and we both spin, expecting to see her hurt or falling.
When she’s clearly fine, her little hands firm on the table and her eyes wide, we relax a little.
“Are you talking about my birthday!?” she demands.
A burst of laughter erupts from Silas, and he steps away, taking the dry pancake mix with him so he can grab the eggs and milk from the fridge. “Rosie, love,” he laughs, “your birthday isn’t for another four months.”
“But I’m going to be six!” Rosie’s wide eyes hold her father's. “Six, Daddy! That’s a big number that needs a big party.”
“You’re right,” Silas agrees. “Do you want blueberries with your pancakes or strawberries?”
The switch in conversation is deliberate, but Rosie falls for it as she contemplates which kind of berry she wants for her breakfast so I take the distraction and slip away, shutting myself in Silas’s ensuite so I can wash my face and brush my teeth.
I make it quick so there’s no chance of him catching me in here, not when he’s busy making breakfast, and then I lock myself in my room to get ready for work.
I’m only working at the ranch today since I have the meteorite shower with Silas, Caleb, and Rosie tonight. We just need some space between us, and whatever this was this morning will be forgotten.
The flirting is clearly a symptom of a heavy, tense night, where emotions ran high. This doesn’t have to be anything, but even as I think it, I know it isn’t fact. I can’t deny how much I want Silas.
But I just can’t have him.
I carry too much baggage.
Have too much weight holding me down.
It would be unfair—hell, me being here is unfair to all of them.
I’m not sure I’d survive the guilt if I allowed it to progress into more.