Chapter 13 #2
The town starts shifting as the rodeo draws closer. More boots, more dust, more buzz in the air like thunder just out of reach. Posters go up. Tourists trickle in. Charlie and I check our final edits like we’re sending them off to war.
And then one night, I find myself standing alone at the edge of the arena, wind picking up around me. I look at the banners hanging from the rail, all those names and sponsors and legacies. I see Will’s name. But I don’t look away.
That’s when my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Phern. It’s Nash.” There’s a pause—static on the line, and something heavier behind it. “I’m not going to be able to make it to Love Lost this weekend. Natalie’s sick.”
Disappointment flickers in my chest, but I keep my voice soft. “I understand.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I feel like the universe is out to get me.”
“Don’t feel that way,” I say, even though part of me wonders the same thing. “We can connect later. It’s not the end of the world.”
And I mean it. I do. But as I say the words, I spot movement out of the corner of my eye. Will. Striding into the arena with that quiet, steady determination that always made people believe he knew exactly where he was going even when he didn’t.
He’s looking right at me. Eyes locked. Jaw set. And every cell in my body goes still.
“Hey,” I murmur into the phone, voice tight. “I’ve got to run. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Yeah,” Nash says, slower this time. “Take care.”
I end the call just as Will reaches the gate, dust swirling around his boots like even the wind knows something’s about to happen.
“Sam thought you might be out here,” he says, voice low.
I cross my arms. “You checking in on his orders again?”
He shakes his head once. “No. This time, I came for me.”
He takes another step closer, and I stay rooted to the spot, heart hammering. Because I know whatever he says next… it’s not going to be casual.
“You avoiding me, Phern Stone?”
Out of everything he could have said, this makes me laugh.
“Something funny?”
“No. Not really.”
His arms cross. “Well?”
“Yes, I’m avoiding you.”
He blinks like he didn’t expect me to admit it.
Will takes a slow step forward, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. “Any particular reason, or do you just get off on driving me crazy?”
I swallow, hard. “Both.”
His jaw flexes, and for a second, I think he might turn and walk away. Instead, he closes the gap between us in two long strides. Now we’re chest to chest, and my breath catches.
“You think this is a game?” His voice is low. “’Cause I’m not playing anymore.”
“I never said it was a game.”
“You didn’t have to.”
His hand comes up, fingers brushing my jaw, tilting my face toward his. I should pull back. I should say something smart and safe and distant. But I don’t.
Because the look in his eyes? It burns.
And when his mouth crashes into mine, I forget every damn reason I had for staying away.
It’s not a kiss. It’s a claim. All tension and frustration, teeth and tongue, years of want unleashed in one devastating sweep. My hands fist in his shirt, dragging him closer like I need him to breathe.
He groans into my mouth, breaking the kiss only long enough to murmur, “Tell me to stop.”
But I don’t.
Instead, I whisper back, “Look at you. Lusting after your best friend’s sister.”
His breath hitches. For the first time, he looks rattled.
His hand slips from my jaw to the back of my neck, rough fingers threading into my hair. “Don’t do that,” he murmurs, voice husky.
“Do what?”
“Pretend this is some passing lust.”
I smirk, but my heart is pounding like a stampede. “Isn’t it?”
His grip tightens just enough to make my knees weak. “You really think I’ve been losing sleep over you because I’m horny?”
I arch a brow. “Aren’t you?”
He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re in every corner of me, Phern. Every fight I pick. Every damn song I can’t listen to because it reminds me of you. You think I want to feel this way about you?”
My throat goes dry. “Then don’t.”
His lips find mine again. Slower this time, deeper. Less rage. More ruin. And this time, when I kiss him back, it’s not about defiance or teasing or what lines we shouldn’t cross. It’s about finally letting go of everything we’ve been holding in.
“You drive me crazy,” he says, pressing a kiss against my jaw.
“Feeling’s mutual, cowboy.”
He chuckles, but it’s low and dark, the sound of a man pushed right to the edge. “You say that like you’re not the one with your foot on the gas.”
His lips trail down my jaw, grazing the sensitive spot just beneath my ear. I shiver, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“You always talk this much before you kiss someone?” I whisper, breath catching.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his gaze molten, hungry. “Only when I’m trying not to screw it up.”
“Too late.”
That does it.
His mouth crashes back onto mine with a heat that steals my breath, his hands anchoring me like I might slip through his fingers. The kiss is messy and desperate. It’s years of tension snapping all at once. I melt into him, opening my mouth to his, letting the kiss deepen until we’re both gasping.
But then I think of all the reasons why this is a bad idea, and I pull away. I take a shaky step back, wiping at my mouth like that might erase what we just did. It doesn’t.
“I—I can’t,” I say, though my voice doesn’t sound like mine.
Will’s jaw clenches. “Can’t or won’t?”
I look away. Anywhere but at him. Because if I meet those eyes again, I’ll fold.
“You’re Sam’s best friend,” I manage. “You’re you. And I’m—” I shake my head. “This was a mistake.”
He lets out a harsh breath, like I’ve taken the wind right out of him. “Don’t call it that.”
“What else would you call it?”
He steps forward, slow and deliberate, like I might bolt. “I’d call it real. I’d call it the first damn thing that’s made sense in a long time.”
My chest aches. “That’s the problem.”
“Phern…” His voice softens, but there’s steel beneath it. “I meant what I said. I’m not playing games.”
I swallow. Hard. “Then maybe we shouldn’t have crossed the line at all.”
His eyes darken. “Too late for that, sugar.”
I take another step back. “I’ll see you later, Will.”
And then I walk away.