Chapter 10
We lie there for a while, wrapped up in the soft hush of morning, until reality intrudes. My bladder reminds me rudely that I’m human.
I groan into Liam’s chest. “I have to pee.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath my cheek. “Guess I should get up, too. See if we had any calves last night.”
But neither of us moves right away. We just stay there, reluctant to break the fragile spell we’ve wrapped ourselves in. Finally, I sigh and sit up, the cool air rushing in to replace the steady warmth of him.
I glance down at him, tousled and gorgeous, and say, “You know, for a pretend boyfriend, you’re doing a really good job. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone take care of me like this.”
Liam’s mouth curves, not into a smile, but into a small, pained frown.
Finally, he says, voice quiet but certain, “Good thing I’m here now.”
My throat tightens.
I’m still smiling as I pad to the bathroom, closing the door behind me, feeling his words echo in my chest long after the door clicks shut.
Later, after I’ve changed into jeans and a hoodie, I find Liam in the kitchen, boots already on, fiddling with a thermos of coffee.
“Get your boots on,” he says, his eyes bright with a boyish, barely contained excitement. “I want to show you something.”
There’s a light in his eyes that has me grinning without even knowing why. I know that look. It means something good happened.
I pull on my red leather boots and follow him outside, the crisp morning air nipping at my cheeks.
He helps me into the UTV, his hand lingering a second longer than necessary, and then rounds the front to climb in, firing up the engine with a grin.
We drive down the bumpy back road that winds through the property, the trees dripping with rain, the mist clinging low to the earth. I grab the ‘oh-shit’ handle instinctively as we bounce over a rut, laughing when Liam purposefully hits another bump that sends me jostling in my seat.
“I think you just like seeing my boobs bounce,” I tease, laughing breathlessly.
Without missing a beat, he smirks and says, “Honey, you’ve got me figured out.”
I shake my head, grinning like a fool as he points toward the pasture ahead.
“Look.”
I follow his gaze and my heart melts.
In the middle of the field, a sturdy black cow stands proudly, two tiny, wobbly calves pressed close to her sides.
“Twins?” I breathe, awestruck.
He grins wide, the kind of grin that lights up his whole face. “Yup.”
“And she’s taking care of both of them?”
“For now. We’ll have to keep an eye on them,” he says, his voice warm and steady.
I know what he means. Cows often only bond with the stronger calf when there are two. We’ll have to watch the smaller one carefully. But right now, it’s perfect. Right now, they’re together.
I turn to Liam, my chest full to bursting.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
He lifts an eyebrow, his smile tugging into something softer. “For what?”
“This.” I gesture around us. The misty field, the new life, the way he’s anchored me when everything else felt like it was slipping away. “For making me smile.”
For giving me a reason to believe I’ll be okay.
Without a word, Liam slides his arm around me, pulling me into his side, tucking me close under his arm like I belong there.
“Always,” he says against my hair.
We sit there for a long time, the engine ticking as it cools, the mist rising in silver ribbons around us. Watching life begin again. Watching hope bloom in the wet, muddy fields.
I lean against Liam a little more, feeling the warmth of him seep into my chilled skin.
“I was just thinking,” I say quietly, “Opal would have loved it out here.”
The words slip out before I can catch them. My breath catches, just like it always does when I think of her. My sweet twin sister. Gone too soon, leaving a hollow ache behind that never really fades.
Liam’s arm tightens around me.
“Sure wish I could’ve met her,” he says softly, no teasing now, just quiet sincerity.
I smile a little, blinking against the sudden sting in my eyes.
“You two would’ve butted heads so hard,” I say, my voice thick with a laugh that feels half-sad, half-sweet.
“Nah,” Liam says, grinning like he’s already picturing it. “I have a way of winning people over.”
I shake my head, still laughing. “She would’ve never forgiven you.”
His eyebrows lift. “For what?”
“For calling me the wrong name the night we met.”
He blinks, visibly thrown. “I called you the wrong name? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Twice.” I nudge him with my elbow, teasing, but there’s a little bite to it I can’t quite hide. “You called me Olivia.”
“Ouch. That’s bad.”
“And yet,” I add, pretending to study my nails, “you sure didn’t forget Amber’s name.”
“Amber?” His eyes light up, mischief sparking in them. “Right. The fake redhead.”
I roll my eyes, but before I can come up with a snarky comeback, he’s watching me with that look that makes my chest ache.
“You know what I remember most about that night?” he asks.
I snort. “Let me guess. Seeing a dozen women in wet t-shirts?”
His grin flashes, but it fades just as quickly into something quieter. Deeper.
“No,” he says, voice low. “I remember your old-ass professor looking at you like he was gonna devour you. Like he had any right to look at you like that.”
I blink, stunned.
Of all the things he could've remembered—all the chaos, the shouting, the soaked clothing—he remembered me.
“Is that why you cockblocked me?” I say, grinning.
Liam doesn’t even crack a smile.
He’s deadly serious when he answers, voice low and sure. “Damn straight. You weren’t going home with him.”
The conviction in his tone punches the breath from my lungs. I moisten my lips, the question slipping out before I can think better of it.
“If you felt that passionately about it, then why didn’t you take me home?”
His gaze locks onto mine, steady and unflinching.
“Because I wanted you in my life, Olive,” he says, voice roughened with something that sounds an awful lot like regret and hope. “I knew you were going to be more than a fling. I didn’t want to fuck things up.”
A small sound catches in my throat.
And then he smiles and says, “I got the best end of the deal, if you ask me.”
I snort, trying to deflect the emotions clawing up my throat. “Why? Because you got to screw Amber and then use me for my brain?”
But he doesn’t take the bait. He just looks at me, patient and unshaken.
“No,” he says simply. “Because I got you. Period.”
The air between us goes heavy, electric. His gaze holds mine like he’s daring me to look away. I don’t. I can’t.
He shifts closer, his voice dropping even lower.
“I remember how pissed Amber was when I broke up with her. How she demanded you quit. How she made you pick.”
My throat tightens.
“You stood by me,” he says, “even though it cost you a friendship.”
I reach up without thinking, brushing my fingers lightly along the inside seam of his jacket. I feel him shiver under the touch.
“It would’ve cost me more if I hadn’t chosen you,” I whisper. I swallow hard, fighting the lump in my throat. “Amber… she was never a good friend. Not really. But you? You were.”
His jaw clenches, emotion flickering hard and fast across his face. And then he leans in, voice rough with something wild.
“Well, for that,” he says, “you get a kiss.”
My lips part on a gasp and Liam seizes the moment.
His mouth covers mine. It’s not a kiss filled with hunger or heat. It’s a claim. He kisses me like I’m something sacred. Like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this. And for the first time, I let myself kiss him back like I believe I deserve it.
At first, the kiss is soft. Careful. A whisper of everything we’re both too scared to say out loud. But the moment I lean into him and my fingers curl into the front of his jacket, something shifts.
The air thickens, charged and electric.
Liam’s hand slides up the back of my neck, threading into my hair, and the second he fists it gently, angling my head just the way he wants, I’m gone. The kiss deepens, slow and devastating, his mouth moving over mine with a hunger that steals the breath from my lungs.
It’s no longer careful.
It’s real.
I gasp against his mouth again, and he takes it as an invitation, his tongue sweeping against mine, demanding, coaxing, owning.
A low, guttural sound rumbles from his chest. The kind of sound a man makes when he’s finally touching what he thought he couldn’t have.
My hands slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle under his shirt, clutching at him like I could somehow anchor myself to the moment and never let it end.
He crowds me back against the seat of the UTV, his body pressing flush against mine, every hard line of him saying exactly what his mouth hasn’t yet.
Mine.
His free hand curves around my waist, hauling me closer, until I’m practically climbing into his lap.
And God help me, I let him.
Because there’s no pretending anymore. No fake dates. No rehearsed touches. Just this. Wild and reckless and right.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other’s ribs. Liam’s thumb brushes over my bottom lip, swollen and tingling from the force of him.
His voice is a rough, broken whisper when he says, “I’m not pretending anymore, Olive.”
And deep down, where all my fear used to live, neither am I.
We sit there for a long moment, breathing each other in.
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us speaks.
The mist curls around the UTV, the calves wobble on uncertain legs in the distance, the world spins on but right here, in this tiny pocket of it, everything feels like it’s been cracked open and rewritten.
My forehead rests against his, my eyes closed, the steady thud of his heartbeat against my palm grounding me. His thumb strokes lazily along my waist, small circles that send shivers radiating outward. He’s touching me like he’s memorizing the feel of me. And God, I’m doing the same.
Finally, Liam exhales a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to look at me.
His blue eyes are dark.