Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Silk and Wine
Lilly
Evening settled over the lake, the kind that seeped into your bones after a long day’s work. The drip from the cabin’s eaves had its own rhythm—slow, steady, relentless. Each drop hit the tin flashing outside with a hollow ping, keeping time with the clock on my kitchen wall.
Beyond the window, Lake Lovelace stretched out in a dull sweep of pewter, the last scraps of snow clinging stubbornly to the shaded banks. Early spring in Montana brought the damp chill that snuck right through your sweater, no matter how many layers you wore.
I sat at my small kitchen table, surrounded by papers like a general hunched over battle plans. But these weren’t strategies—they were invoices.
Electric. Water. Three from Martin, both stamped overdue in a bright red that looked almost smug.
The tulip order I shouldn’t have placed, but did anyway, because who wants to walk into a flower shop in March and see only empty shelves?
The rent bill I kept pushing to the bottom of the pile as if it might disappear if I ignored it long enough.
Sunny stretched out under the table, head resting on her paws, warm and solid against my bare feet. Every now and then her tail thumped softly, a quiet reminder that at least one creature in my world didn’t care about numbers or deadlines—just that I was here.
Business always picked up once prom season hit—corsages, boutonnieres, graduation bouquets. But that was weeks away. And thanks to my brilliant decision to write my parents a check, I was deeper in the hole than ever.
I didn’t regret helping them; I couldn’t.
I’d pictured Mom at her kitchen table in Arizona, fanning herself with a church bulletin and insisting she was fine.
But Dad’s pride wouldn’t let him ask for help, and my brother Art had let it slip that his family was scraping to cover even the basics.
So I did what I always did—I stepped in.
Now my books looked like a battlefield littered with overdue notices, and I was the one bleeding.
I pressed my palms into my temples, willing the numbers to rearrange themselves into something less terrifying. They didn’t. They never did.
With a sigh, I reached for my phone. Art’s name stared back at me from the screen. I hovered, thumb poised, telling myself not to drag him into this. He had enough on his plate. But the silence in the cabin was too loud, and my pride had already been chewed down to scraps.
I hit call before I could talk myself out of it.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Lils.” I could hear my nephews in the background, something crashing, followed by laughs. Art’s voice was warm but tired. “What’s up? Please tell me you’re not calling with something new that our parents need.”
I twisted a strand of hair around my finger.
“Not exactly. I just… I’m staring at these bills, and I can’t figure out which ones to pay or set aside.
I gave Mom and Dad a check to help out with repairs, and now I’m behind with the florist wholesaler, and the rent’s glaring at me from the corner of the table. I thought maybe—”
“Lil,” he cut in gently, with that older-brother weight that always made me feel ten again. “If I had anything left, you’d have it. But I’m tapped out. We’re holding things together with duct tape and grace here in Show Low.”
A weak laugh slipped out of me. “Well, duct tape is on sale this week.”
He chuckled, but his voice softened. “If I had it, you’d have it. You know that. Just… don’t carry it all by yourself, okay? You’re allowed to ask for help. Doesn’t make you weak.”
I stared at the stack of bills, the red stamps practically shouting, failure. “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll… pencil that in.”
We said goodbye, and the line clicked dead. The stillness in the cabin pressed heavier than the spring dusk outside. I stacked the bills neatly, slid them under the saltshaker like maybe I could pin them into obedience, then stood at the window.
The lake rippled under the fading light, silver threads unraveling across the surface. It should’ve calmed me. Instead, my skin was hot with restlessness.
The bills sat on the table, smug little reminders of everything I couldn’t fix tonight. My chest ached, tight with numbers and with something else I didn’t want to name.
Sawyer.
He’d barely looked at me today in the shop, and I still couldn’t scrub him from my head. So why did sleeping with him still feel like the truest thing I’d done in years?
My cabin felt smaller by the minute, its walls closing in with every tick of the clock. I yanked open the cupboard and found the half-forgotten bottle of red I’d bought at the market last fall. The cork fought me, then popped free with a sigh that felt almost approving.
The wine went down too easy—dark, sharp, with a sweetness that lingered on my tongue. One glass softened the edges, the next lit a slow fire in my chest. I leaned against the counter, glass in hand, telling myself I just needed to take the edge off.
But the truth bubbled up with every swallow. I didn’t want calm. I wanted a distraction. I wanted that night on the cruise again, even if it was reckless, even if it was wrong.
I stared out at the lake, at the thin strip of moonlight trembling across the thaw. My reflection in the glass looked like a woman I barely knew—hair mussed, cheeks flushed, eyes hungry.
And then the thought came, bold and brazen as a dare: what if I just drove to Lucky Ranch? What if I showed up at Sawyer’s door, wine in hand, nothing under my coat but silk and bad decisions?
It had worked once. Why not again?
I tipped the glass again, finishing the last of what I’d poured. The heat slid down my throat and spread through me, loosening my anxiety just enough to breathe.
Sunny sighed under the table, rolling to her side so her head bumped against my ankle. I bent down and rubbed her silky ears, grateful for her loyalty. She blinked up at me, patient, steady, a better grounding force than I deserved.
“Fine,” I whispered, pushing back from the table. “You win. I’ll get up.”
She followed me to the door, nails tapping against the old pine boards. I opened it, and the chill of the night swept in. Sunny trotted onto the porch, stretched, then bounded into the damp grass, nose down, tail wagging as if the whole world belonged to her.
I stood there, sipping the last of my wine, letting the cool air bite at my cheeks. It should’ve sobered me. Instead, it just sharpened the edges of my desire.
Finally, Sunny padded back inside, shaking droplets across the floor. She sat square in front of me, head tilted, as if she could smell the change in my mood.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I murmured, setting down my glass. “I’m fine. Just… restless.”
Her tail thumped once. Then she whined, soft and low.
I crouched to refill her bowl with kibble, topped off the water, and scratched her chest until her sighs grew heavier. “Eat up, baby girl. I’ll be back before morning.”
She whined again, like she didn’t believe me. Maybe she was smarter than I gave her credit for.
I shoved the cork back into the half-empty bottle and tucked it under my arm. My coat slid over my shoulders, hiding the silk of the negligée I’d pulled on like armor. The fabric whispered against my skin, cool at first, then warming fast as the wine buzz spread through me.
Maybe this was crazy. Maybe he’d open the door and tell me to leave. Maybe he wouldn’t even answer. But the thought of lying awake in my empty bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying every second of our night together, was worse.
On impulse, I snagged the bottle of Sensuous Nude from the shelf above my dresser and gave myself a quick spritz. The warm, amber-sweet scent clung to me instantly, settling over me like a secret only I knew.
The night air wrapped around me, sharp and damp. As I walked to the car, my pulse raced ahead like it knew where I was headed.
Lucky Ranch.
Sawyer James.
Another reckless gamble.
By the time I pulled into the driveway at Sawyer’s place, deep night had settled in for good. The ranch house loomed against the sky, windows black, its white trim catching just enough moonlight to look ghostly.
My headlights swept across the wide porch before I killed the engine. Silence rushed in, broken only by the creek somewhere beyond the pasture and the steady tick of cooling metal under the hood.
For a second, I sat there, clutching the neck of the wine bottle, pulse skittering.
This is insane.
I could still turn the key and back out of the drive. No one would ever know. But then I caught the faint glow spilling through the slats of the stable door and knew he was somewhere in the vicinity.
I slid out, pulling my coat tighter, purse bumping against my hip. The negligée whispered against my skin beneath the coat. Heat curled low in my belly, welcome and unstoppable.
My boots clicked over the paved drive as I crept up the porch steps and tried the door. The latch gave beneath my hand.
Of course, it wasn’t locked. Sawyer protected everyone else in this town like a watchdog, but his own place?
Wide open.
I lingered in the entry, half expecting alarms to shriek, cameras to whir.
Nothing.
My shoulders sagged as I glanced around the great room. He really did live like the world couldn’t touch him.
Through the kitchen window, I glimpsed movement. Two riders emerged from the timber, silhouettes against the silver wash of moonlight. Even from this distance, I knew one of them. Straight back, sure hands on the reins—Sawyer.
Sawyer followed Bruce as they led their horses into the barn. The lights inside the stable flickering against the hard lines of Sawyer’s jaw. He hadn’t seen my car. Maybe he wouldn’t care if he did.
Either way, the chance was here. My heart pounded, half dread, half hunger. Maybe he’d send me packing. Perhaps he’d pull me close again. Either way, I’d deal with it.
I poured a quick glass from the bottle, took a sip—deep ruby—and then set both the glass and the bottle on the kitchen counter. My courage had already burned hot enough.
Upstairs, I found his room—the massive master suite. The bed was neatly made, the air carrying soap and cedar, unmistakably him. My coat slid to the floor as I eased off my boots and slid under the covers, silk cool against my skin.
I curled onto my side, breath catching, pulse wild. Foolish or not, I was here.
And all I could do now was wait.