Chapter 17
Rhett
I finally get Juniper to go to sleep around four in the morning. Her breathing’s slow now, finally steady. I watch her for a minute longer, brushing a strand of hair from her face before easing out of bed.
The second I’m in the hallway, I pull out my phone and hit Beau’s number.
It rings once.
Then again.
“This better be important,” Beau growls.
“It is,” I say. “I need you to dig into Chester Hilbert. I want everything. Bank records, property deals, skeletons he’s got buried. If he so much as jaywalked in the seventies, I want it on my desk.”
There’s a pause, then a low whistle. “Damn. You’re finally going for blood.”
“This isn’t about business,” I say. “It’s personal.”
“Juniper?”
“She had another nightmare tonight.” My voice tightens. “She ran barefoot into the damn cold trying to outrun it.”
“Got it. I’ll wake up Sawyer. We’ll start now.”
“I want receipts,” I add. “The kind that don’t just hurt him. I want to make sure he can never touch her—or anyone else—again.”
Beau’s voice turns lethal. “He won’t. If there’s dirt, we’ll dig it up and light it on fire.”
“I want leverage before I make a move. No surprises.”
“You’ll have it.” A pause. “You okay, man?”
I look toward the bedroom door. “Not until she is.”
Then I hang up.
My thumb hovers over Sawyer’s number, but I know Beau will loop him in. I run a hand through my hair and glance at the whiskey bottle on the kitchen counter. Tempting. But I need to stay sharp.
Because when Chester Hilbert falls, I want him to know exactly who’s holding the rope.
I’m too wired up to go to sleep, so I get a start on the morning chores. By the time the sun is up, I’m finished, have showered, and have breakfast waiting for Juniper.
She steps into the kitchen wearing her new jeans, top, and leather jacket. And the necklace. She looks fucking beautiful.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
She smiles shyly. “Good morning.”
“I was thinking. We should go fishing today.”
“Don’t you have work?”
I snort. “I’m playing hooky today.”
She blinks at me. “You? Skipping work? Is that even allowed?”
“I’m the boss, remember?” I step closer and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Pretty sure I can approve my own day off.”
She softens into my touch, but I can see the shadows still lingering in her eyes.
“I thought you didn’t fish much,” she murmurs.
“I don’t.” I shrug. “But I figured maybe you needed something quiet.”
Juniper’s lips twitch. “Fishing as therapy?”
“Something like that.”
She glances at the counter and her eyes widen. “You cooked?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” I pull a plate from the oven and set it in front of her. Eggs, crispy bacon, and biscuits still steaming. “Sit. Eat.”
She does, and I pour her a cup of coffee. As she takes the first bite, her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a moan that goes straight to my cock.
“Careful with that sound, sweetheart. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She opens one eye and smirks. “You’ve already failed at that. Repeatedly.”
“True.” I grin. “But fishing might buy me a few redemption points.”
She stabs a bite of eggs. “As long as you don’t expect me to clean what we catch.”
I lean down, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
There’s silence for a beat. Then she says, “Thank you. For all this. For not running.”
My smile fades just enough to show her I mean every word. “I’m not going anywhere, Juniper.”
She looks away, blinking fast. I don’t press. I let her eat. But in the back of my mind, I’m still planning. Still hunting.
Because while today’s for her, tomorrow, Chester Hilbert starts losing everything.
By the time we pull up to the old fishing hole at the back edge of the ridge, the morning sun’s warmed everything into gold.
The water’s calm. Trees swaying. Only sound is the breeze through the pines and Juniper’s soft laugh as she climbs out of the truck, tugging the brim of that old ball cap I gave her low over her eyes.
She looks good in it. She looks good in everything.
“This your secret hideout?” she asks, surveying the spot.
“One of ‘em,” I say, grabbing the rods and cooler. “You like it?”
“Yeah. It’s nice. Peaceful.” She exhales like she’s been holding her breath for years.
I hand her a rod. “You ever fish before?”
“Not since I was seven,” she says. “I mostly remember crying because my line got stuck in a tree.”
I grin. “Sounds about right.”
She elbows me in the ribs, playful. “I was seven.”
“You still cry when you don’t get your way?”
“Only when I’m distracted by a certain cowboy with stamina issues.”
I stop short, raising a brow. “Stamina issues?”
The smile she gives me is trouble wrapped in sunshine. “Now I’ve got your attention.”
“Keep talking like that, and I’ll forget about fishing altogether.”
“Promises, promises.”
We settle on the riverbank. She kicks her boots off and dips her toes into the grass like she’s never had the luxury of being still. Of feeling safe. That thought sticks under my ribs as I cast my line.
She tries, too—half-decent cast, even if it lands short. I don’t tease her. Not much.
“Not bad,” I tell her.
She grins. “You gonna bait my hook for me next time?”
I glance over, catching the glint in her eye. “Sweetheart, if you ask real nice, I’ll do a hell of a lot more than bait your hook.”
Her cheeks color, but she holds my gaze. Damn, she’s bold. And I love her for it.
A hush settles between us. Comfortable. That’s what guts me the most. How easy this is. How right it feels. And how the word ‘love’ keeps circling through my head.
I keep my eyes on the water when I say it. “Didn’t think I’d be here. With someone.”
She tilts her head. “Here as in…?”
“As in finally letting myself want more.” The words come out quieter than I intend. “Spent so long keeping things clean. Detached. Safer that way.”
She doesn’t speak, just watches me like she knows I’m not done yet.
“But now I’m sitting here, by the water, with a woman who makes me forget what I was so damn scared of in the first place.”
That gets her. I feel her lean in, rest her head against my shoulder like it’s always belonged there. My arm comes around her without thinking, locking her in like I’m afraid she’ll disappear if I let go.
We sit like that while the sun climbs higher, the rods forgotten, the world quiet. And I don’t care if we catch a single fish.
All I care about is this.
Her.
Us.
Juniper surprises me by asking, “Would you have really blackmailed me if I hadn’t come to the ranch willingly?”
“Yes.” My answer is instant.
“Wow. I thought you’d at least deny it.”
“I know what I want, and I wanted you.”
“You would have hurt Caleb?”
I sigh. “My relationship with Caleb has always been a struggle. He never wanted a stepfather, and we were never close. So, yes, I would have hurt him to get you.”
Her cheeks turn pink at that.
“And my parents?”
“You saw what I did to them.”
Her gaze meets mine. “And Chester?”
“Chester’s day of reckoning is coming.” I peer into her eyes. “Soon.”
She leans up, brushing her lips against mine. “Thank you.”
I don’t move right away. I just let her linger there until I can’t take the space between us anymore.
I kiss her back.
“For what?” I murmur against her mouth.
“For wanting me that badly,” she whispers. “For not pretending you didn’t.”
My hands frame her face. “I’ve never pretended with you, Juniper. Not once.”
“I used to wish someone would fight for me like that,” she admits, her voice cracking just slightly. “Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s wrong.”
“It’s not wrong,” I tell her. “It’s the only damn thing that’s ever felt right.”
She climbs into my lap without hesitation, straddling me like she belongs there. Like she always has. Her hands curl into the back of my shirt, pulling me close.
“You scare me, Rhett,” she whispers. “Because you make me want things I told myself I’d never want.”
I run my thumb along the side of her neck, finding her pulse. It’s racing. So is mine.
“Then we’ll want them together.”
She searches my face, like she’s trying to see if I mean it.
I do.
All of it.
Her hips shift against mine, and I groan low in my throat.
“Careful,” I warn. “You keep grinding on me like that and I’m gonna forget all about restraint.”
“Who says I want restraint?” Her eyes spark. “Maybe I want you to show me how far you’d go to keep me.”
I grab her by the hips rocking against her until we both moan.
“You really want to know what I’d do for you?”
She nods, breathless.
“I’d give up everything. Except you.”
Her breath catches, and for a second all I hear is the soft rush of water lapping against the pond’s edge.
“This isn’t supposed to happen,” she murmurs, but her fingers are already tracing the edge of my jaw, sliding down to the back of my neck.
I smile against her lips. “Then stop me.”
She doesn’t.
Instead, she tilts her head and kisses me harder this time, like she’s making up for all the years we lost to pride and silence. My hands find her thighs, rough palms dragging up the denim of her jeans until I can feel her tremble.
The frogs in the cattails startle when her small gasp breaks the air. The pond reflects the sunlight behind her, turning her into something half-wild, half-holy. I can’t decide if I want to worship her or ruin her. Maybe both.
“Rhett…” she breathes, my name slipping from her mouth like a secret.
“Yeah?”
Her hips move again, a slow roll that knocks the breath clean out of me. “You always do this to me.”
I press a kiss just below her ear. “Do what?”
“Make me forget everything except you.”
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging until I’m looking at her again. Somewhere behind us, a bullfrog croaks, and the ripples shiver across the water.
“Then forget,” I whisper. “Just for today.”
She exhales, shaky and soft. Then she shifts, off my lap, her hand catching mine as she backs toward the edge of the pond. She toes off her boots and dips one foot into the water.
“It’s warm,” she says, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
I stand, heart thundering, watching her wade in until the hem of her shorts darkens.
“You’re crazy,” I say, voice low.
She glances back over her shoulder, wet hair sticking to her skin. “Maybe. But you said you’d give up everything, remember?”
I laugh under my breath, stripping off my shirt as I follow her into the pond. “Guess that includes dry clothes.”
The water closes around us, cool against the heat of our skin. She floats back into me, eyes half-lidded, the air humming around us.
“Now what, Rhett?” she teases.
I brush my lips against her temple. “Now I show you I meant every damn word.”
She smiles, faint and dangerous. “Then don’t stop.
She tilts her head up, lips parting just as I close the space between us. The kiss starts soft but dissolves fast into something hungrier, the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world go quiet. Water ripples around us as she presses closer.
Her fingers slip beneath the hem of her shirt, dragging it higher until it clings to her shoulders. I pull it off, toss it toward the grass, and it lands somewhere near her boots. Her laughter follows it—a breathless, nervous sound that catches in her throat when I trail my mouth down her neck.
“You always were trouble,” I murmur against her skin.
“Guess you never minded much,” she fires back, voice shaking as my hands skim her sides.
“Not once.”
The water laps at her waist as I draw her closer, her back arching, her body molding to mine like it’s the only place she’s ever belonged. The scent of rain lingers in the air, sweet and sharp. Somewhere across the field, a horse snorts, restless in the dark.
She breaks the kiss, breathing hard. “What happens when morning comes, Rhett?”
I brush a wet strand of hair from her cheek. “We deal with it then.”
Her eyes search mine like she’s looking for a promise. “And if I run?”
“Then I’ll find you.”
Something in her face softens. Fear, maybe, but also trust. Her fingers curl into the back of my neck again, tugging me down until our foreheads touch.
“I need you.”
The wind picks up, carrying the sound of the porch chime. I kiss her again, slower this time, memorizing the taste of her, the way her breath stutters when I deepen it as I walk us out of the water, onto the grass.
“You have me.”
Her lips find my throat, my jaw, the corner of my mouth. Each touch is a confession and a promise. And when she leans back just enough for our eyes to meet, something passes between us.
I’ve never been a romantic, but what happens next can only be described as making love.
Not the frantic kind, not the kind meant to fill silence or chase away ghosts.
This is slower. The kind that remakes you.
The grass is cool beneath us, the air thick with the scent of rain and wild honeysuckle.
And when I finally move inside her, the world stops pretending it’s still spinning.