Chapter 5
Juniper
I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.
My cheeks burn and my pulse is a riot under my skin, but I spin on my heel and storm down the road, gravel crunching beneath every furious step I take.
I hate him! God, I hate the way he thinks he can just lay claim to me like I’m a piece of land with his name carved on the deed.
I hate the way my body betrays me every damn time he gets close.
And, more than anything, I hate that part of me doesn’t want him to stop.
The sun beats down, hot and merciless, but it’s nothing compared to the heat simmering under my skin.
My breath comes in short, angry bursts, and I don’t stop walking until the fence line is nothing but a blur behind me.
It’s only then, when the fury starts to ebb just enough for his words to creep back in, that the truth hits me.
See you at dinner.
I slow to a halt, dust swirling around my ankles.
My stomach twists. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t threatened.
He’d just said it. Like it was a fact and already decided.
And maybe it was. Because Rhett Slade doesn’t bluff.
He never has. If he said he’d be there, then it doesn’t matter if Caleb picks me up, if we sit in the brightest restaurant in town, if I tell myself it’s just dinner—Rhett will show and he’ll make sure everyone knows I’m his.
The thought sends a shiver down my spine, half terror, half something I can’t name. I press my hands to my face, trying to block it out, but his voice lingers anyway.
See you at dinner.
“We’ll see about that,” I mutter.
Back at the ranch, I bury myself in work.
The barn is hot and sticky, the air thick with hay dust and sweat, but it’s better than suffocating under my mother’s disapproval inside the house.
Better to smell like horse and dirt than lemon cleaner and judgment.
I muck stalls until my back aches, brush Honey’s coat until my arms burn, haul feed until blisters swell on my palms. Every task feels like a war against the echo of Rhett’s voice in my head.
The ranch hands notice but don’t say much like they’ve been told not to speak to me.
By six, they clap me on the shoulder, murmur goodnights, and head for home. Their trucks rumble off one by one, leaving the barn silent except for the shuffle of hooves and the low sound of Honey chewing hay. And me, alone with thoughts I can’t keep shoving down.
When the quiet grows too heavy, I give in.
I can’t stall forever. I head to my room and take a fast shower.
Since my hair won’t do anything, I braid it, letting it hang down my back.
I reach for my make-up next and swipe mascara across my lashes with an unsteady hand, telling myself I look fine.
No one in town will care what I look like anyway.
I dig through my bag to find something to wear, but my options are thin.
I finally pull out a dress that doesn’t make me feel like I’m suffocating.
Soft cotton, a faded floral print. It’s not flashy or polished.
Just safe. But as I slip it over my head and smooth the fabric down my hips, another thought slams into me, hot and sharp.
What if Rhett shows up?
The dress suddenly feels flimsy. Too sweet.
Like armor made of paper. I grip the edge of the dresser, knuckles white.
My reflection stares back at me, the same girl who once wanted his attention, who still feels the burn of his hand at her waist from earlier.
If he comes tonight—and God help me, I know he will—this dress won’t protect me from him. Nothing will.
A knock at my door startles me so hard I jump.
Mom calls out, “There’s someone on the porch for you.”
When I open the door she’s still there and looks me over, before shaking her head.
“Are you going to wear that?”
I feel the heat on my cheeks. “It’s all I have.”
“Then perhaps you should get a job so you can buy suitable clothing.” She pauses. “How long will you be out?”
“Caleb Slade is taking me to dinner. It should only be an hour or so.”
She hums under her breath but lets me pass.
I drag in a shaky breath, force my shoulders back.
Downstairs, I pass my dad in the den where he has the TV muted.
I’m sure it’s so he can hear what’s being said.
I grab my purse and open the door. Caleb stands on the porch with an easy smile and a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, looking like every safe choice I should want.
So why do I think of Rhett right away?
“Ready?” he asks.
My lips twitch into something that might pass for a smile. “Yeah.”
I take the flowers, thank him softly, and let him lead me out.
His truck waits at the curb, polished and clean, smelling faintly of cologne and leather.
He opens the door for me, and for one fleeting second, I let myself breathe.
Maybe it’ll be fine. Maybe Rhett was bluffing.
But as we pull onto the main road toward town, headlights sweep across the ditch and my stomach drops.
Because parked just up the way, black and hulking beneath the setting sun, is Rhett’s truck.
And he’s leaning against it, arms crossed, watching me go.
His hat’s low, his face half-shadowed, but those eyes…
I can feel them even from here. I snap my gaze forward and force my fingers to unclench around the bouquet in my lap before Caleb notices.
He deserves better than to see me rattled, not when he’s trying so hard to be kind.
He talks the whole drive into town, little stories about the bank, about his half-siblings, about a new bar opening up on the square.
I nod in the right places, murmur encouragements, but my mind keeps drifting to the rearview mirror, half-convinced I’ll see Rhett’s headlights trailing us.
He isn’t behind us. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t close.
By the time Caleb parks in front of the restaurant I’m a knot of nerves. He hops out quickly, circling to open my door with a smile that almost makes me ache.
“You look nice,” he says, like it’s the easiest truth in the world.
I manage a thank you, though my voice is thin.
Inside, the hostess greets us, leads us to a booth near the window.
The smell of fried food and coffee lingers in the air, familiar in a way that makes me feel eighteen again, sneaking milkshakes after football games.
For a little while, it almost works. Caleb is careful, asking questions that don’t dig too deep.
We talk about Denver, about his college years, about nothing and everything.
He makes me laugh once and it’s a real laugh.
But then movement at the edge of my vision makes my stomach plummet. Across the street, leaning against a lamppost like he owns the night, Rhett is watching, eyes fixed on me through the glass. My fork slips from my fingers, clattering against the plate.
Caleb blinks, startled. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say too quickly, fumbling to recover. “Just clumsy.”
He grins, not pressing. He’s always been like that.
Gentle where he should’ve been firm, forgiving where others would judge.
Once, that was a comfort. Now, it feels like weakness, and not just because Rhett is out there.
No, Caleb has always been too kind and when he had the chance to defend me, he didn’t.
He stood back and let everyone say the worst about me.
My throat is tight when I swallow. Rhett didn’t try to defend me either, but he gave me a choice. One I walked away from. Is that what this is about? Is he doing this because he still thinks I owe him something?
The rest of dinner is a blur. Every time I glance toward the window, he’s there. Sometimes closer. Sometimes further. Always watching. By the time Caleb asks if I want dessert, my nerves are frayed raw.
I shake my head. “I think I’m good.”
He accepts that with an easy smile, pulling out his wallet to pay for our meal. When I glance out the window, Rhett is gone. Oh, shit. Where did he go?
Caleb insists on walking me to the truck after dinner, his hand brushing the small of my back.
It should be comforting, but my skin is crawling for an entirely different reason.
Because I know Rhett’s still out there and I can feel him like a storm cloud pressing low, waiting to split the sky open.
The drive is quiet, Caleb humming along to the radio while I stare out the window.
My pulse won’t settle, not when every flicker of headlights on the road makes me think it’s him.
Not when every shadow feels like he’s already inside it.
“You’ve gotten quiet,” Caleb says gently. “Too much small-town gossip for one night?”
I force a smile. “Something like that.”
He doesn’t push, just nods like he understands, like he’s willing to let me keep my silence.
When we finally turn onto the long gravel road leading to the ranch, my heart stutters.
The house looms in the distance, dark except for the faint glow of the porch light.
Caleb pulls up, kills the engine, and hops out to circle around and open my door. Ever the gentleman.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say softly, clutching the flowers tighter.
“Anytime, Juni.” His smile is warm, boyish. “I’d like to do it again.”
But before I can answer, movement catches at the edge of my vision. A figure, leaning against the side of the barn. Hat low. Arms crossed.
Rhett.
My breath catches hard enough to sting. Caleb doesn’t notice. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like we’re still kids fumbling with first dates.
That’s when Rhett pushes off the barn. The crunch of his boots on gravel is louder than the cicadas buzzing in the trees. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t need to. His presence swallows everything. The night air, my voice, the space between us.
Caleb stiffens beside me when he notices, his hand falling from my hair.
“Evening, Rhett,” he says carefully, though his tone is edged with unease. “Didn’t know you were friends with Juni’s parents.”
Rhett doesn’t answer. His eyes are locked on me, sharp and unrelenting.
“Thanks for dinner, Caleb,” I blurt, desperate to diffuse the tension. “I’ll… I’ll see you soon.”
Caleb hesitates, glances between us, and then nods. “Alright. Night, Juni.”
He lingers a beat too long before retreating to his truck. The engine roars to life, headlights cutting across the yard, and then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the dark with Rhett. The silence is crushing. I clutch the flowers tighter until the stems crumple in my fist.
“You had no right—”
He steps closer, the brim of his hat throwing his face into shadow.
“I told you,” he rumbles, voice low, dangerous. “I’d see you at dinner.”
“You had no right to follow me.”
Rhett steps closer, like a predator closing in.
“Sure I did. I had to make sure you were okay, didn’t I?”
“I was with Caleb. You don’t get to—”
“I don’t get to?” He cuts me off, stepping close enough that the brim of his hat nearly grazes my forehead. “Juniper, I get to do whatever the hell I want when it comes to you. And you know why?”
I try to take a step back, but his boot shifts, blocking me. His eyes catch mine, storm-gray, endless.
“Because you’ll let me,” he says softly.
It’s not a boast. Not even a threat. Just a simple, devastating truth. The night presses heavy around us. My heart beats so loud I’m sure he can hear it. I shove the flowers against his chest, petals crushing between us.
“You’re insane.”
His hand comes up, curling around mine, forcing the ruined bouquet back into my grip. His touch is warm, steady, terrifying.
“Get some rest,” he murmurs, his tone dropping so low it coils through me like smoke. “You’ll need it.”
“For what?” The words escape before I can stop them.
“For when you stop fighting me.”
My breath comes too fast, too shallow, and before I can find an answer, he steps back. Just far enough to let me go.
Then he turns, strides toward his truck without another word, and disappears into the night. I stand frozen, flowers crushed in my fist, my pulse a frantic drum. Sleep will never come. Not with his voice replaying in my head.
Get some rest. You’ll need it.
Dropping the ruined flowers, I slip inside the house, thankful my parents aren’t around to question me. In my room, I undress and then slid under the sheets, willing myself to sleep.
But sleep never comes.
I toss and turn in the too-stiff bed, sheets twisted around my legs like restraints for hours.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Rhett.
The way he stood in the dark, broad shoulders braced, eyes sharp as knives.
The way his voice dipped low when he told me to rest. Like he knew damn well I wouldn’t.
My body aches with restless energy, nerves wound so tight I can’t breathe right.
It shouldn’t be like this. I should be furious. I am furious. But underneath the anger is something uglier and hotter.
Want.
I squeeze my eyes shut, biting my lip until it hurts. I shouldn’t. God, I shouldn’t. But the more I fight it, the more his voice seeps into the cracks of me.
Because you’ll let me.
My hand drifts under the sheets before I can stop it. Hesitant at first, trembling with shame as I dip into my panties. But the second my fingers skim over sensitive skin, heat flares so sharp I choke back a sound.
I try to think of Caleb. Of safety. Of gentleness. But he fades almost instantly, replaced by Rhett’s shadowed face, his rough hands, the way he said my name like a sentence.
Juniper.
The syllables rumble through me, low and commanding, and my hips jerk before I can hold them still, rocking against my hand.
My breath quickens, shame burning hotter with every stroke.
I hate myself for this. Hate that my body doesn’t care about right or wrong.
Hate that I’m falling apart to the thought of the man who will ruin me just because he can.
But when release finally rips through me, I bury my face in the pillow, muffling the desperate sound that tears free and try like hell to deny that it was Rhett’s name on my lips as I broke.
Afterward, I lie there trembling, damp with sweat and self-loathing, chest heaving like I ran a mile.
And all I can think, as the shudders fade and the quiet presses in again, is that somehow Rhett will know what I did tonight.