Chapter 22
twenty-two
Trouble
Wind lashes against my helmet, and it's like I can feel him—Granddaddy—in the gusts that urge me on. And then, just as I roll to a stop, I spot her.
Sawyer's car’s tucked off near the edge of the gravel lot, away from others, half-hidden behind a line of trees where the property dips toward the pasture.
I pull up beside her, engine rumbling low. Her car door creaks open, and she steps out—sun-kissed, glowing, and flat-out dangerous in that white tank top that clings to her with those damn jean shorts that barely qualify as such.
"Thought that rumble was thunder, but nope—just your dramatic entrance,” she calls, unbothered, like the storm’s just background noise.
I tug off my helmet, letting it hang from my fingers. “Storm’s rolling in. You know how bad they can get here. You should probably get your city self back to the ranch before you melt.”
“I’m not scared of a little rain,” she says, spinning once like she’s starring in her own music video. “You country boys act like weather’s a death sentence.”
“And you seem like the type to dance through a tornado just to prove a point,” I mutter.
She steps closer, rain catching in her lashes. “So... you and Winnie are still together, huh? Looked pretty cozy back there.”
I smirk. “I’m not with anyone.”
She scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I prop the bike up and step off. “That almost sounds like jealousy.”
She rolls her eyes, arms crossed tight. “Only thing I’m jealous of is the peace I had before you showed up.”
“And here I was thinking I was saving you.”
We stare at each other, neither of us blinking. Then she glances up at the sky like it might save her from this conversation.
“I don’t need saving,” she says, unfolding her arms. “And neither did he.”
“Who?”
“My daddy. I appreciate what you’ve done, but you can’t keep swooping in like some hero wrapped in flannel.”
"Why can't I?" I find myself saying, softer than I intend. It's the storm. It has this way of calming me. Maybe it does the same for her, too.
“Because he can’t pay you back,” she says simply. “We need a real plan for him. Something that works. So I can leave town and things can go back to normal again.”
“Then make a plan,” I shoot back, cool and simple.
She lets out a frustrated breath, pushing her bracelets up her wrist like they’re the problem. “You act like that’s easy.”
“We got most of it fixed up. Maintenance from here on out. You and Knox can figure the rest out.”
She shakes her head. “Not from the city. I can’t dump it all on Knox. That’s not fair.”
“Then stay. Be here for him.”
“I can’t,” she fires back. “My job needs me. My life needs me. I’ve got a hundred missed calls and a city that doesn’t run without me.”
I raise a brow. “What’s so great about the city, anyway? The overpriced coffee or the human traffic jams?”
“All sorts of things. You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. I have a doorman who knows all about my good days and even the bad ones. And when I get lonely?” She leans against the seat of my bike like it’s hers. “I look down at all the people and I remember I’m not actually alone.”
Damn, she's beautiful. Even when she’s being impossible. Not just in the way she looks, but in the way she talks, the passion in her eyes. There’s something about her independence and the way she clings to this life she’s built.
“You really think you’d miss all that?”
She shrugs, and the look in her eyes says she’s not so sure. Her fingers trail along the handlebar, and the look in her eyes says she’d rather be here—she just doesn’t want to admit it yet. Then a slight wobble in her stance catches my eye.
“Did you drink any of Mama’s Porch Punch?” I ask, wanting to taste her lips to find out for myself.
“Maybe,” she says, lips curving like she’s daring me to call her on it. “It was delicious.”
I tip my head, watching her too close. “You do realize it has moonshine in it?”
Her eyes widen, then she shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Well I did not know that, but relax, cowboy. I’m fine.”
“You are outta your damn mind if you think I'm lettin’ you drive back after drinkin’ that.”
“You act like you can stop me,” she says playfully.
I step in closer, my voice dropping. “Here’s how it is. Long as the storm don’t get worse, I’ll stay out here in the rain with you all night if that’s what you want. We can stay here talkin’… or you can hop on the back of my bike. Those are your options.”
Her chin tips up, defiant. “And what if I don’t wanna hop on the back?”
“Then we go with option one. Maybe I like listenin’ to you talk more than I should, anyway.”
She snorts, like she doesn’t believe me. “You don’t seem like the type who likes to listen to anyone talk.”
A grin breaks free. “Maybe I’m not the type I seem.”
“Well then,” she says, eyes glinting, “tell me something real. I've heard all the ‘Trouble’ rumors. But tell me something about Tristan.”
There are few things in this world that I can say I love—whiskey with a good burn, the freedom of the open road on my bike, riding a strong bull.
But the way she says my name almost knocks the wind outta me.
It's like a favorite song on an old guitar, familiar but somehow makes my chest ache in the best damn way.
“There’s nothing you need to know,” I say, stepping closer. “I’m not a good guy. I’m not the safe choice. And I’m definitely not the one you bring home to Daddy.”
But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.
“Well, it just so happens I’m not looking for someone safe, not looking for someone to bring home either.”
I know that’s gotta be a lie. She made her ex wait six months. Safe is exactly what she wants, but I know she won’t admit that. Right now with her cheeks flushed, I know the punch is hittin’ its peak.
“Darlin’, that's the porch punch talkin’. I know folks ‘round here already warned you about men like me. Best thing you can do is keep your distance.”
She takes a step closer, hips swaying just enough to make me forget what the fuck I’m saying. She’s too close now, looking too good, and I’m one wrong breath away from losing every bit of sense I’ve got left.
“Funny, you telling me to keep my distance,” she whispers, sky-lit eyes sparkling. “But you’re looking at me like you wanna be the reason I don’t.”
And fuck me—because I do.
"All I know is that I can't give you what you're looking for," I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her lips. My fingers linger a second too long.
She tilts her head, mouth parting just slightly. “And what exactly am I looking for?”
I drag my gaze down to her lips, then back up. "For more than I could give you."
The rain starts to fall harder, soaking through fabric and reason. My chest tightens, caught between the desire to pull her close and ending this before it goes any further.
"If Knox knew I kissed you already..." My voice drops as I continue, rough with guilt I don't want to feel. "He’d never trust me again."
Her lashes glitter with rain. And I know if she leans in a half-step closer, I won’t stop it. I can't.
She doesn’t back down—instead, she crosses her arms, the soaked white tank clings to every curve, every inch. Her nipples harden beneath the fabric, and her tits are fucking perfect. They’re just the right size, perky, and doin’ everything in their power to make my mouth water.
"Don’t try to play the good guy now," she challenges, her voice low, daring. "You walk around all cocky and reckless—Trouble, right? But when it comes to me, suddenly you’ve got a conscience?"
"Being Trouble doesn’t mean I don’t see the line, Sawyer. It means I know exactly where it is… and exactly what will happen the second we cross it."
My jaw ticks. Everything in me coils, straining between right and wrong. I want her—fuck, I ache for her—but this isn’t just about us. It’s about the fallout. About the people who’d bleed if I gave in.
"My brother doesn't have to know, no one has to know… but maybe there’s nothing to tell. What if we're not even compatible? Maybe there's no chemistry past kissing. Maybe—" Her voice rises above the rain and she continues to ramble.
Unfortunately, I'm not the hero of this story—I never claimed to be. But standing here, with her in the summer rain, I can't shake the feeling that I'm already in over my head. I know what’s at stake, how wrong this could go, but I’m incapable of walking away.
She’s leaning against my bike, her white tank top soaked through completely now. She’s still rambling, something about how maybe this thing between us is all in her head. But I’m not listening. I’m too busy imagining how her tits would feel in my hands, how her nipples would taste on my tongue.
“You really shouldn’t be out here like this. Maybe you should sit in your car and get outta the rain,” I say, as my eyes trail over rain-slick fabric.
“Why?” she teases, tipping her chin up. “You worried about the weather, or afraid you’ll do something you can’t take back?”
Knox’s voice slams into my head, the memory sharp as if he’s standing right here beside me.
Protect her. Don’t even think about it. Baby sister.
I’ve repeated those words a thousand times since, tried to use them to help me think straight. But they aren't holdin' much weight right now because I’m so damn close to proving him right about every damn thing he warned me against.
“Both,” I admit, teeth slightly clenched. “You had moonshine, so I can’t trust that you’re of right mind. And you being off-limits makes it even worse. So much worse.”
“Half a cup, my mind’s perfectly intact. And so what? You’re just gonna stand there and keep following those rules in your head?”
“I hate rules,” I growl against her ear, my hands already betraying me—one sliding down to grip her thigh, rough fingers digging in like I need her to stay right there.
Her smirk is pure evil. “Good. Because I’m cashing in that dare.”
My gaze narrows. “What dare?”