Chapter 12
SETH
She’s trying to pretend I can’t smell her, and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed.
June walks beside me toward her car, keys jingling in her hand, and I’m fighting not to grin like an idiot.
Because something has changed since this morning.
Something fundamental. The scent that’s been driving me crazy since the moment we met—lemon zest and honey and wildflowers—is stronger now.
Clearer. Like someone lifted a veil I didn’t even know was there.
“Thanks again for the ride,” I say as we reach her sedan. “I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” She unlocks the doors, and I fold myself into the passenger seat, suddenly very aware of how small this car is. How close we are. How her scent is filling the enclosed space like it’s staking a claim.
She slides into the driver’s seat and reaches for the ignition, but my hand covers hers on the gearshift, and she freezes.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Fine. Why?”
“Because something’s different.” I study the flush on her cheeks, the way she won’t quite meet my eyes.
“Since that night at the jail, I could barely catch your scent. It was there, but muted. Like trying to hear music through a wall.” I inhale slowly, letting her fill my lungs.
“Now it’s like someone turned the volume all the way up and it’s controlling me. ”
She swallows. I’m watching her closely, and I see the moment she realizes she can’t bluff her way out of this. Her shoulders tense. Her grip tightens on the steering wheel.
And I can’t help it. I grin.
“Don’t smile like that,” she says quickly.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re up to something and you know something I don’t want you to know.”
“Maybe I do.” I quirk an eyebrow.
She stares at me for half a second, then starts up the car and lunges for the window controls. All four windows roll down simultaneously, cool morning air rushing into the car like she’s trying to air out a crime scene.
I laugh out loud.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I fucking love how you smell. It’s everything. I want to drown in it.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Because—” She cuts herself off. “I have something to tell you, and you saying things like that makes it harder.”
We pull away from the curb and head down the main road, wind whipping through the open windows. It’s breezy and cool, but I don’t complain. If she needs the buffer, I’ll give it to her. For now.
We drive for a while, and she hasn’t said a word, so I figure I’ll try to break the ice. “You know,” I say after a moment, “I know almost nothing about you.”
“Maybe that’s for the best.”
“Not really.” I shift in my seat, turning to face her more fully. “Tell me something.”
She’s quiet at first. “My parents live in Dallas. They keep calling, trying to convince me to move down there permanently.”
“And?”
“And they want me to sell the real estate business.” Her hands tighten on the wheel. “Technically, it’s their business. My dad owns the building and the company name. I just… run it.”
“But you built it.”
“Yeah, I did.” She glances at me, then back at the road. “They need money. My dad made some bad investments., so they’re selling, and I’m just supposed to… let it go. Move to Dallas. Start over.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Hell no.” The words come out sharp. Certain. “But what I want doesn’t seem to matter much these days.”
She exhales hard, like she’s been holding her breath, and glances at me again. “God, that was intense, wasn’t it?”
“Nah.” I shrug. “It was fine.”
She laughs. “You’re such a bad liar.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The tension in her shoulders eases slightly. “Okay, your turn. What did the lawyer say about the video evidence?”
“Well, I ended up on a phone call with him and the sheriff as he watched the footage. And he said they’ll look into it, as it’s difficult to tell from the footage if she actually spiked my drink or was just reaching for something on the bar. They need more to go on.”
“Damn.” June frowns, still staring at the road like she can rewind the footage with sheer stubbornness. “We need to find that girl.”
“And do what?” I ask. “She’s not going to show up and confess out of the goodness of her heart that she drugged me.”
“No,” she says, warming to the idea. “But we can do some spying. Figure out who she is. Why she targeted you.”
I glance over at her and immediately regret it, because the dress she’s wearing has ridden higher than it should from all the shifting. The hem is sitting all the way up now, showing too much skin, and my brain doesn’t know what to do with that besides spiral.
I force my gaze back to the road.
I laugh once, low. “I’m in. Always wanted to play detective.”
“I’ll get you a magnifying glass.” Then she grins, and it does something criminal to her whole face. Like she forgets to guard herself for a second. Like she’s just… June.
The wind keeps rushing through the open windows, cold enough to bite without being mean about it. It’s spring, but Montana doesn’t care what the calendar says. It smells like cut grass and wet earth and the kind of air that gets in your lungs and makes you feel too awake.
I clear my throat. “Can we close the windows now?”
“Nope.” She doesn’t even glance at me. “I like it.”
“It’s cold.”
“It’s brisk,” she corrects, like that makes it charming.
“My ears are going to hate you.”
She finally looks over, eyes bright with mischief. “You’ll survive.”
“I’m not convinced,” I mutter.
June’s gaze shifts my way like she’s trying not to smile. “You’ve got that tough cowboy thing going. I’m sure your ears can handle a little weather.”
If she knew what I was actually trying to handle right now, she’d stop teasing. Or maybe she wouldn’t. That’s the problem. I can’t tell with her.
My attention drops again before I can stop it, tracking the line of her throat, the smooth skin where her collarbone disappears under the neckline of her dress, the gorgeous curve of her breasts.
My cock gives a throb, and it’s taking every bit of restraint I’ve got to keep my hands and my thoughts off her thighs.
She shifts in her seat, and the dress rides up another inch.
Then she speaks again, softer. “Do you have time?” she asks. “There’s this place I go sometimes when everything feels like it’s falling apart.” She hesitates like she hates needing anything. “And you seem like you could use it today too.”
I glance at her, careful this time, and find her watching me like she already knows my answer.
“Are you kidnapping me?” I ask.
“Maybe.” She tilts her head, that spark back in her hazel eyes. “Scared?”
I let my gaze drop to her mouth for half a beat, then back to her eyes. “Of you?” I say, voice lower than it should be. “Yeah. Probably.”
Her breath catches, just slightly.
“Terrified.” I lean back in my seat, stretching my legs as much as the small car allows. “I’ll gladly let you kidnap me. Want me to tie up my own wrists and ankles? Make it official?”
She laughs. “That’s not really scary if you come voluntarily.”
“It would be a dream come true.”
She stares at me for a beat too long, then returns her attention to the road. But I see the flush spreading down her neck, the way her pulse jumps at her throat. She’s affected. Good.
We turn off the main road onto something smaller, rougher.
The town falls away behind us, replaced by rolling fields and distant mountains.
It’s beautiful out here, the kind of wild, open landscape that reminds me of home in my younger years.
Of the years before I lost my mom in an accident, when life was simple and the future felt infinite.
I don’t think about that time much anymore. Too painful. But something about this place, this town, this woman… it makes me want to remember.
The road narrows into a path, trees closing in on either side, and June finally rolls up the windows. She parks in a small clearing and kills the engine, and the silence that follows is almost startling.
“Oh, you’re going to love this,” she says, and her excitement is contagious. “Come on.”
She climbs out of the car, and I follow, watching her move.
The red dress hugs her curves in ways that leave me drooling.
The belt at her waist accentuates the dip before her hips flare out.
Her legs in those cowboy boots go on forever, and when she walks ahead of me, I can’t stop staring at the sway of her ass.
Focus, Seth. Eyes forward. Think pure thoughts.
That’s impossible when she’s bouncing through the trees like a kid on Christmas morning, glancing back to make sure I’m following, her whole face lit up with anticipation.
We push through a final cluster of branches, and I stop.
A waterfall cascades down a rocky cliff face, maybe thirty feet high, feeding into a crystal-clear pool that mirrors the sky. Moss-covered boulders line the edges, and yellow and white flowers push up through the rocks. The sun catches the mist, throwing tiny rainbows into the air.
It’s stunning.
“I found this place a few years ago,” June says, moving toward the water’s edge. “When my parents first started pushing me to move to Dallas. I was so frustrated, so angry, and I just drove until I ran out of road.” She gestures at the waterfall. “This was waiting at the end.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Right?” She turns to face me, and her smile is radiant. “I come here when things get overwhelming. The sound of the water, the isolation… it helps me think. Or not think. Depending on what I need.”
She’s talking with her hands, gesturing enthusiastically, and I realize I could watch her like this forever. The way she moves, the passion in her voice, the pure, unguarded joy on her face.
“Do you like waterfalls?” she asks.