13. Silas
I order two coffees and a hot chocolate at a deli not far from Storm’s address.
I drove home last night fuming because it took everything in me not to ask Storm why she’s living in a building that should have been torn down and remodeled a decade ago.
When I left town, her and her dad were living in a townhouse in Blue River Springs, just off Main Street. I never visited but we all just knew where everyone lived.
I tried bothering Wilder about it last night but he was in full-blown wedding chaos with Rose, and there was no way I was calling Dallas.
My phone rings as I settle back into my car with the drinks and breakfast to-go. I didn’t bother putting Storm’s truck through the wear of going all around town this morning, so I’m picking them up in my car. Still filled up her tank like I said I would.
I answer on the third ring. “Hey.”
“You left early this morning,” Wilder notes.
“Picking up Storm and Max from the other side of the planet.”
He sighs. “Oh. Heard you took them out last ni—”
“Where they live, Wilder. What do you know about it?” I snap, no time for small talk.
“Silas, don’t get all worked up over things you can’t help.”
I’m about to ask what he means by that but bypass it and aim straight for the hit I know will get me the goal. “Tell me or I’ll be dropping wedding bells hints from now to December.”
He curses under his breath. “All right, all right,” he sighs.
“Tom Dalton got sick about three years ago. He didn’t have a lot in retirement but between him and Storm, they pulled what they could to get him treatment.
Early last year, Tom had to go into a facility and they sold the townhouse.
Didn’t go for much in its condition, so Storm didn’t have enough to buy or rent decent property for her and Max.
That’s when she came to Blue River Ranch.
We offered her fifty percent more than she was getting at Callahan.
Now before you go losing your tights over it, she gets more than any other trainer we’ve had on staff.
Heck, we pay her almost as much as Ginger. ”
“That can’t be right. Where’s it all going, cause it sure as fuck isn’t that apartment.”
“The money from the townhouse got him a room at the facility. But the treatments still pile up.”
I exhale a loud breath. “Got it. Thanks. I’ll see you back at the ranch soon.”
“Silas.”
“What?”
“Think before you act. It’s not just Storm you’re dealing with here.”
I mutter a thanks and hang up as I pull up to Storm’s building. My hopes of it looking a bit more appealing in the light flying out the window. Grabbing the drinks but leaving the food in the car, I head up to the apartment.
With Wilder’s and Dallas’s warning in my head, I know how this looks to anyone watching—the dinner, the drop-bys, the way I keep finding reasons to be near her and Max. I should think twice. I should be cautious and know where the line’s drawn.
Hell, Storm drew it last night when she called a truce and let me off the hook for high school—calling attention to an end date.
But the truth is, I don’t want an end date. I don’t want to stay away from Storm Dalton. And I’m sick of people telling me to.
This line’s become something you’d have to break all my limbs to keep me from crossing.
“Silas,” Max’s face lights up as he opens the door to me, and I wonder how much longer I can stay an idol in his eyes. What I might do to screw it up. The thought terrifies me.
“Hey buddy.” I scan his jeans, polo shirt, and hoodie. Then to the same worn shoes from the other day. “Lookin’ sharp. Can I come in?”
He stands back, welcoming me in. “Mom’s in the shower because we ran out of hot water after mine yesterday.”
I frown. “Oh, well is there anything I can do to help?” I glance around the apartment.
It’s clean, but small. There’s barely a corridor between the door and the kitchen.
There’s a small island, piled with papers, bottles, devices, and mail.
The living room stretches, but not for very long before hitting a wall with a double window and blue curtains.
The sofa bed is open with a spread of linens.
“How about I help with the bed?”
He seems concerned for a moment, hesitating. My sling is back on because it was a bitch driving her truck through town last night and I needed the reminder to rest it.
“We can surprise your mom,” I offer encouragingly.
“Okay, I usually help her fold.”
“You sleep here?” I ask.
“Yeah. Mom wanted to give me the bedroom, but all her stuff is in there anyway. Plus, what good is having your own room if your mom’s always coming in?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t see the purpose. Except each of my bothers and I had our own room and our mom was always in there. Judging, rattling off chores. Throwing away magazines we had no business—well—you get the point. Here, you fold the sheets, and I’ll get the sofa.”
He nods and starts folding in a somewhat functional manner—certainly better than anything I could do with one hand. “I had so much fun yesterday.” He beams.
“Yeah, me too. Hey, solid choice with that Polaroid by the way,” I wink, referencing our conversation from the other day.
“It’s no iPhone 7, but it’ll do.” He pauses. “Hey can we get a picture soon?”
I grin back at him. “Thought you’d never ask. Bring that camera with you to the wedding this weekend. I look pretty damn good in a suit. Come on, help me with those pillows.”
“Max? Are you dressed? I’ll be ready in a—” Storm shrieks, the sound sharp and startled as she emerges from the hallway.
I look up in time to see her frozen, a wrapped towel clutched tight against her chest, blonde, darkened hair dripping down shoulders.
And for half a second all I can do is stare.
Her legs are bare, skin flushed from the heat of the shower, freckles on more parts of her than I ever allowed myself to imagine.
“Jesus Christ, Silas,” she breathes.
Water still clings to her arms, sliding over impressively muscular arms, curves. The towel barely doing its job. I drag my eyes up, forcing myself to meet her gaze, but the damage is done. Every inch of her feels real, vivid, and undeniable.
Jesus Christ is right.
I hold up my hands, blinking away what I know I won’t soon forget. Then immediately cover my eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I came up to see if you needed any help. I didn’t . . . see anything.”
I hear her huff and run into the bedroom, the door shutting.
Max giggles and winces at the same time. “At least we made up the sofa. Mom never lets anyone come by because there’s no place to sit. We hardly fold it up.”
I frown in his direction. “Didn’t seem that heavy.”
“Mom’s just too tired. And there’s too much to do at night. I was able to shower last night, but the hot water ran out, so we’re running late today.”
I nod. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you to school on time. Here, let’s try and be ready to head out by the time she is.” I grab his jacket and backpack. “Is this it?” I ask, my eyes scanning for anything he might need.
“Yep,” he answers, grabbing a bottle of water from the cupboard. “Ready.”
I hear the door open and Storm racing out, brush mid-stroke in her hair. Her cheeks are still flushed but she avoids my eyes as she mutters something about rudeness and privacy.
“To be fair, you did come out to your living room dripping wet in a towel.” I lift the paper cup from the counter and her cowboy hat off the hook by the front door. Then stride back toward her, setting the hat on her head.
She glares at me. “Because I heard voices, and—” Her eyes drop to the hot cup in my other hand. “Is that for me?”
I smirk. “Yes it is.”
She groans appreciatively and takes it. “Never mind, I’m ready.”
We pull in through the gates of my brothers’ ranch and I head straight toward the stables.
“Oh wait. I need to clock in at the ranch office. Can you drop me there?” She gathers her things and sighs, checking the time again. “I’m so late.”
“Ginger already did that,” I tell her, driving ahead without daring a glance at her when she turns a hard glare.
“What do you mean Ginger already did that?”
“I mean she was told forty-five minutes ago you were running late and to clock you in.”
She smacks my knee and I’m relieved it wasn’t my arm—not sure Storm would spare me pain. “Silas. You can’t do that. Ginger can’t do that. You’re gonna get us both fired.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh no. Does she think we were together—like all night?”
My grin is wide. “No. I texted Wilder and he told her to clock you in.”
“Wilder? So, he thinks we were together all night?” She shrieks.
“Will you calm down? I’m staying at his house, he saw me come home last night.”
“Oh,” she breathes. “Right. Still, I don’t like it. And I wish you used my truck to pick us up.” She glances back. “Max got coffee cake crumbs all over your back seat.”
I’m not about to tell her I noticed it as it was happening because that won’t do anyone any good.
Just had to breathe through it.
Kids are messy. That’s why they make dust busters.
“Don’t worry about it.” I pull to a stop behind her truck at the stables and hop out, coming around the other side to open her door.
Holy hell.
Storm’s ass is pointed in my direction as she attempts to pick at crumbs from the back seat. Plump, round, every perfect curve filling her jeans. Heat moves through me and my cock twitches.
Her jeans sit low, exposing skin as she reaches further back. Hips twisted in a way that makes me want to reach out and hold her in place.
Fuck, get a grip.
“On second thought, probably should make sure you get every last crumb back there.”
She snaps back, finding my eyes low and my grin cocky just for effect. She shoots me a sharp glare and dusts the crumbs she collected onto the floor of my car. Then matches my grin. “Well, since we’re not being well-mannered or anything.”
I stretch out my hand, helping her out of my low seat and pulling her against me.
She gasps, dropping her head between us to where my bulge brushes against her.
“Trust me,” I murmur in her ear. “I’m minding my manners right now.
” I step back, giving her room. Her face flushed as she releases a breath and sets her hat back on her head.
I lean against my car, watching her, arms folded in front of my chest, lips turned up on one side.
She flips around to me and takes a step until her pointed finger reaches my chest. I catch her glance down at it like she’d just poked a wall.
“All right, hotshot. I don’t know what you’ve been trying to prove the last day between walkin’ an untamed pony, tricking me into dinner, and picking us up this morning, but whatever it is, consider it proven, all right?
We’re cool. I’m over my thing. Water under the bridge.
Now please, carry on.” There’s a smirk playing on her face and her tone is light, almost teasing.
Not razor-sharp like I’ve gotten used to.
She’s subtly asking me what all this was—and letting me down gently.
I frown. “What thing? The crush or the ghosting thing?”
“Both,” she says and by the look in her eyes, I know she’s close to meaning it.
We should shake on it.
Establish an easy friendship right here and now. And when I’m in town between games and seasons, maybe even catch a kid-rated movie. But I don’t know how to do that. If I’m capable of walking away after spending time with her again. With her kid.
And the question still weighs on me, heavy and insistent. One I know I’m going to regret asking, but I settle on doing it anyway.
“Truce then,” I say, stretching out my left hand.
She pauses before awkwardly taking it with hers and chuckles. “Truce.”
I hold her hand, knowing the risk I’m about to take. “Who’s Max’s father?”
Her face falls, but she covers it quickly. “We said truce, Silas. Not friends. You know, that thing that you avoided being the minute I stepped into your school?”
“I agree. I have friends, Storm. And I don’t think of them like I think of you.”
This makes her pause, but she shakes it off like she’s got a battle to win here. “Besides, it’s not like I ever got a reason. Other than you were completely immature and self-centered.” She folds her arms.
I frown and dodge the question she’s clearly asking. “You said you didn’t care to know why.”
“Of course I want to know why,” she snaps suddenly. “I’ve got a grudge the size of Colorado and it’s not going away anytime soon.” She raises her arms like she doesn’t know what to do with me. “So no more dinner tricks. No more showing up at my apartment. And stay away from Max.”
I release a breath, leaning back against the car as her sudden outburst starts to make sense. “So that’s what this is about.”
“That I’m still angry? Yes.”
“No,” I say calmly. “I had you for a minute there and then you turned on me the second I asked about Max’s father.”
She turns away, proving me right.
“Why the secret? Not like I’ll tell anyone.”
She licks her lips, eyes dropping to the ground as if fighting a painful memory. “I’m late for work.”