26. Shelter from the Storm
TWENTY-SIX
shelter from the storm
As our lips are still tangled in the frantic kiss, a flash of lightning breaks across the sky, closely followed by a clap of thunder. Sudden storms are common in this part of the state, so I’m not surprised, but Brianna jumps about three feet in the air and pulls away from me.
“What!” she squeals. “Is it supposed to rain?”
“I guess so, based on the thunder and lightning.” And the fact water just dropped on my head. There are only a few drops now, but in no time, it’ll be much stronger. “Sorry. I should have checked.”
“What should we do? It takes hours to get back to your house! I don’t want to get struck by lightning!”
I don’t want to increase her panic by telling her that’s a distinct possibility. The lighting is practically on top of us. But I’ve got insider information about this spot on the ranch that she doesn’t have.
“There’s an outbuilding just around the bend. We can walk the horses there and take shelter inside until the squall passes.”
“How long will that be? It might rain all day.” Brianna follows me as I lead Bonnie and Clyde along the stream.
“Not long. These storms don’t last more than an hour or two.”
I sense Brianna nodding as we continue our walk toward the outbuilding. We put it on this part of the property for exactly this reason. Ranchers may be out longer than planned, or sudden storms might make riding back risky, so we have a house at the back of the ranch that gets used every now and then, in situations like this. Although I wasn’t planning on needing it, I did plan on using it. The ranch house was already part of my little getaway plan with her; we’re just moving there sooner than I thought.
Brianna’s been lied to and used by people she’s trusted. I’m not that guy. I’m definitely not trying to take advantage of the situation. I’ve been holding myself back for that reason alone. The past few days, however, have made me wonder if now she’s ready to share more with me.
“Is it some kind of shed or something?”
“Something like that.” I give her a little wink, and then I swallow the guilt at how things are about to look. I hope I’ve proven to her she can trust me. I hope she knows me better than that by now.
The house comes into view before I have the chance to worry about it any longer.
“Oh, it’s like a little cottage,” Brianna says as she gets her first look just past the stream. She’s right. It’s more of a cottage than a house, with one small bedroom and no electricity. “I hope it’s warm inside.” Relief fills her voice as she turns to me with a smile.
“It will be.”
There’s running water and a woodburning stove, which I’ll get heating the place up as soon as possible. It’s not five-star luxury, but Brianna’s never expected luxurious accommodation. Firewood is kept stocked in a shed next to the stables, and nonperishable canned goods are stocked inside. Technically, we could survive out here for a few weeks if needed.
A few weeks alone with Brianna sounds like a dream come true. She needs a break from the demands of her fame. But this isn’t the place I’d want to stay with her.
It’ll do for now.
I push my nerves to the back burner as we set the horses up in the open stable along the side of the house. Brianna insists on helping me lay out new hay for Bonnie and Clyde. Once we’ve got the horses settled, she follows me around to the front door of the house. We’re soaking-wet at this point, the rain coming down heavier than before.
“I’m sorry our outing turned south like this,” I say as I open the door.
Brianna grabs my hand from behind, surprising me as she turns me to face her. She doesn’t say anything right away, her eyes sparkling with nervous excitement. That’s how I interpret it anyway, but it could be me projecting my own emotions, because it’s exactly what I feel.
“It couldn’t be going better.” Her words are quiet, as though she’s letting me in on a secret. I wonder if I’ve been keeping the same secret.
My heart rate picks up as it does whenever my thoughts about Brianna stray to her lips, her mouth. My eyes follow my thoughts and rest on her heart-shaped lips. I lean into her and give her a slow peck.
I’d kiss her like this all day if I could, but we’re both freezing-cold and soaking-wet.
I pull away to get Brianna into the house and start up a fire in the stove. When I look at her again and see the heat in her eyes, I realize the fire has already been started. It started days ago on our drive to the ranch, in the tiny hotel room, during the long night she lay in my arms. It’s been simmering, smoldering, between us ever since. Only our proximity to other people has kept it from raging out of control.
But there’s no one here now. Not for miles.
Deep breath. Calm the hell down.
Instead of stoking this fire between us, I push through the open door and pull her inside, shutting out the weather. We’re both soaked to the bone. Drying off and warming up takes precedence.
Brianna looks around the small room appreciatively. It’s more rustic than the family home—if that’s at all possible—with rough- hewn wood cabinets and counters. The potbelly stove in the center of the space creates a sense we’ve stepped back in time. As she takes in the room, with its mismatched couch and chairs, the gingham curtains that clash with the other fabrics, and the bookshelf with random books ranch hands have left over the years, I don’t hesitate to grab a few logs from the indoor pile, making a mental note to replenish it from the shed before we leave. Brianna stands dripping by the door while I stoke the flames, trying to get warmth inside as quickly as possible.
“There are towels in the cabinet,” I say, pointing to its location in the hallway as I work on the fire. “Can you grab a few for us to dry off?”
Brianna turns immediately to get the towels, now visibly shivering. “I feel like a drowned rat.” She wraps her arms around herself, dripping as she walks.
Mere seconds later, she’s back in the main room handing me a towel. The fire does its job, warming the space as we stand next to it drying off. Our eyes catch, but we say nothing.
Silently, I rub the towel over my head, my gaze never straying from Brianna. She shivers slightly, drying her hair while she gazes back at me. Our movements slow. My eyes drop to her neck, following a droplet of water as it runs down her skin, pooling in the crevice at the base of her throat. The T-shirt she has on underneath her flannel molds to her skin, the soft outline of her bra visible through the fabric.
My mouth is dry, a jarring contrast to the state of the rest of my body. My eyes drift back up to hers, satisfied to see she’s watching me as I rub the towel across my shoulders, my biceps, then my chest.
It’s the most mundane act in the world, drying ourselves off, but after the kiss by the stream, the looks at the door, and the fact we’re here all alone, dripping-wet, silently watching each other as we warm our skin by the fire ...
It’s starting to get hot in here.
I attempt to swallow the exponential need I have for her, but my mouth is still desert-dry. I need water. Maybe something stronger. I wasn’t lying earlier, when I told her I was scared. Right now, I’m feeling as scared as I ever have. The tension is so fucking high between us. It’s been building for days. Weeks, if I think about it. I’m not sure what to do with my hands, my eyes. My gaze hasn’t left hers, but I can’t hold on any longer without pushing past boundaries I’m not sure she’s ready to drop. I don’t want to take the risk of hurting her. Or worse.
Hurting myself.
I look away.
The deflated energy is a relief. I take a deep breath, finally able to, intending to say something. But Brianna speaks first.
“Is there a bathroom ... or an outhouse?” she asks.
It’s almost comical. Her question breaks a little more of the tension. I can sense her worry she’s going to have to use some pioneer facilities behind the house.
“There’s a bathroom. With plumbing. A flushing toilet and everything.” I smirk.
“Thank goodness!” She lifts her hands in the air, still holding the now damp towel in one of them. “Point me there?”
I do so and turn away as she leaves the room. I know Brianna well enough to realize what she just did. She’s escaping the emotions. She’s pretending they don’t exist. I can’t really blame her—I just did the same thing. We’ve both been escaping the hard things in subtle ways since the day we met.
It’s been a while since I’ve thought of that day. So much has happened between us, and now I wonder what she was thinking back then.
As I wait for Brianna to return, I continue to stand by the stove and dry off. With how wet we were when we walked in, it’ll probably take all afternoon.
Ten minutes later, when Brianna still hasn’t come out of the bathroom, I start to worry she’s hiding. I decide to give her a little space before coaxing her back out. Instead I turn my attention to my pack of goodies. Thankfully, I have everything in containers rather than bags, so none of it was destroyed by our race, or the rain, or our hasty escape.
I spread the food out on the coffee table and grab a couple of items from the pantry in the cottage, having planned on it ahead of time. It helps that Mandy keeps an inventory of items in stock out here, so she can send Mike with replacements when he’ll be out this way. I knew what would already be on hand.
Just as I’ve gotten things all in place, I hear the bathroom door open, followed by soft little footsteps. My eyes meet Brianna’s as she shuffles toward me.
“What’s all this?” she asks, amused.
“Lunch,” I say, spreading my hands in presentation. “Apples, grapes, mixed nuts, little flatbread crackers, a variety of protein-ful spreads, and of course ... popcorn.”
There’s a huge smile on her face. I didn’t realize how badly I needed the reassurance.
“How do you do this every time?” Brianna laughs a little. “No guy is this sweet all the time.” Her eyes lift to mine, filled with joy and wonder. I take the small boost of courage and reach for her.
Arms around her waist, I pull her close. “Really, it’s all your fault,” I whisper in her ear.
Brianna pulls back to look at me. “My fault? How in the world is you being sweet all the dang time my fault?”
I simply look at her for a minute, making sure she takes the next words I say as seriously as I mean them. The pause in our conversation builds the tension back in full force. This time, I let it linger, let it build, not allowing it to freak me out. No more awkward avoidances. This needs to happen.
“Because the second I saw you, the very moment you pulled off those sunglasses on the roof, I was a goner, and all I’ve wanted is to help you find your smile.”
Her involuntary gasp is audible. Her eyes shift between mine, searching. She must find what she’s looking for, because her gaze settles, and her furrowed brow drops. The confidence I love fills her eyes, along with something more. Heat.
She whispers her next words. “Zack.” The need in her voice when she says my name pierces right to my soul. “I felt the same.” She swallows as I pull her back to me, pressing her body up against mine.
“Did you?” I nuzzle her neck with my lips as I seek confirmation.
She shudders. The shiver must travel all the way to her toes, because her legs shake.
“Yes.” Her breathless reply.
“But you wouldn’t shake my hand. I thought you hated me.” I continue my gentle assault on her ear, her jaw.
Her arms slide up around my shoulders, trembling. “I couldn’t. I knew it would be the end of me if I touched you, and I didn’t know you yet. I couldn’t trust myself around you, Zack.”
I bring my lips closer to hers, speaking against her skin. “You could always trust yourself around me.” The words are slipping past my lips, and I almost give her the last of my heart. I almost utter the three words that will change everything, but I stop myself.
“I will never hurt you, Bree. I couldn’t.”
She shudders again at my words. “I know. You’ve proven that, over and over.” Brianna takes my face in her hands, pulling my lips away, just before I plant them on hers to stay awhile. “I trust you with my whole heart.”
I had no idea I could react like this to words. Letters of the alphabet arranged in just the right order to cause my heart to open up. She hasn’t declared her love for me, but right now, this means more. Having her trust means the rest can begin. It means she’s letting me in.
I can’t stop myself from saying the only thing left to say—the only words that truly matter.
“Bree, I’ve fallen for you. Hard.” I swallow and then lay it all down for her. “I love you.” My lips touch hers as I speak the truth; as I confess it all. No more fear between us.
“You do?” Her voice wavers .
I nod. “The messy bun and red sweatpants undid me. When you brought the bowl of popcorn after our big date, you unraveled a little more. Seeing how you looked at me in that video hit me right in the chest, baby. It may have been make-believe, but the look on your face matched what was in my heart.”
“It wasn’t make-believe,” she says as I nibble her neck between my confessions.
“I fell for you .” I pull back and look into her eyes as my hands once again cradle the face I’ve grown to love with my entire heart. “The Bree who loves horses and hikes and picnics. Not the pop star. Not the girl on the radio.”
Her eyes melt. Didn’t know that was a thing, but how else could I describe the glimmer I see in them now?
“You have no idea how much I’ve fallen in love with you, Zack.”
“Tell me ...” I whisper, letting the feelings stir; hit me right in the gut. I need to know who I am to her. What I mean. How she sees me.
Brianna runs her fingers into my hair, gripping, pulling a little, taking control. “I’d rather show you.”
While the rain continues to pour and the fire continues to burn, I let her.