Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Caleb
By the time the music spills out of the barn and across the south pasture, I already know I’ve made a mistake.
Parties aren’t really my thing. Never have been. Too many people. Too much noise. Too much small talk, which has always felt worse than trying to dance in boots that don’t fit.
But tonight?
Tonight, the ranch is glowing. Lanterns swaying from beams, strings of lights stretched across fence posts, shadows flickering under the big harvest moon. The kind of night even I can’t hide from.
And Delaney…
Well.
She’s impossible to hide from, even in the dark.
It’s Silas’s fault. It always is. He’d barreled into my room earlier, tossed me a clean button-down shirt, and declared, “If you show up looking like a barn cryptid to my party, I’m disowning you.”
I told him no one comes to these things to look at me.
He said, “Yeah? Tell that to the chef who hasn’t stopped glancing at you since this afternoon.”
And I’m still thinking about that.
Even now, standing half in shadow as the party swells around me, I scan the crowd for her before I can stop myself.
I find her instantly.
She’s near the picnic tables, laughing with Ivy and Olivia, long hair tumbling down her back as she gestures with one hand and tries to stop Sadie from double-fisting cookies with the other. Lantern light catches the curve of her cheek, the shape of her mouth.
My chest tugs low, a magnetic pull that I pretend I don’t understand.
Boone sees it too. I know he does, because I catch him looking at her the exact same way. Jaw tight, eyes soft, trying not to admit something even to himself.
Silas?
He notices everything. And he’s leaning against the barn wall, smirking at both of us because we’re the least subtle men alive.
Great.
I drag in a slow breath, calming myself with familiar things. The scent of hay, the warmth of the barn, the rustle of horses shifting in their stalls just beyond the wall. My heart beat steadies.
Until I look at her again.
She’s wearing a dress.
Not the green one from girls’ night, my brain barely survived that, but a soft, deep blue thing that ties at the waist and moves when she walks. Just fitted enough to remind me she’s all curves, soft enough to make her appear like comfort in human form.
And she’s glowing.
Not figuratively… literally glowing. Someone must’ve hung the lanterns too close, because every time she passes one, her skin catches the gold like she’s walked straight out of a dream.
Which is probably why, when Silas elbows me and murmurs, “Go talk to her,” I don’t tell him to leave me alone.
I just swallow.
Get it together, I tell myself. She’s your friend. Your colleague. Your… something. Not sure what, exactly, but important. And you could screw this up if you take one wrong step.
But she turns then, laughing at something Ivy says, and her eyes find mine.
She smiles.
My stomach flips.
Damn it.
I take a drink from the bottle in my hand, more to calm myself than anything, and finally start walking toward her.
“Caleb!” Sadie hollers as she sees me headed in her direction, before launching herself off the bench and tackling my leg in what might be an attempt to take me down.
“Hey, Sadie.” I pat her head gently. “Slow down or you’re gonna vibrate into another dimension.”
“I had three cookies,” she announces proudly.
“I can tell.”
Delaney snorts under her breath, trying to hide her smile. She’s not successful.
“Hi,” she says softly when I reach her.
It’s one word.
One syllable.
But it hits me. A warm hand on the sternum.
“Hi,” I echo.
I should say more. I should say something smooth or charming. Silas would. Boone could if he chose to. Me? My brain seems determined to offer me a grand total of zero usable sentences.
She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. A shy gesture. Nervous, maybe.
“You having fun?”
“I’m… here.”
She laughs, and damn if that sound doesn’t ripple straight through me, loosening my chest.
“Well,” she says, bumping my arm lightly with hers, “for you, that practically means you’re partying.”
“Careful,” I warn. “If I get too wild, I might… stand closer to the firepit.”
“Oh no,” she gasps dramatically. “Insanity.”
I bite back a smile.
Then she looks at me and everything changes. Her eyes soften. Her breath catches just barely. And her gaze drops to my mouth before lifting again.
My pulse jumps.
Someone calls for Olivia across the yard. Ivy starts chasing Pickle, who has somehow stolen a rib bone the size of his head. Sadie runs after both of them.
And suddenly it’s just me and Delaney standing in the soft barn light while the party churns around us.
And I can’t look away.
The music shifts. It gets slower, warmer, and the couples start drifting toward the open space Silas calls “the dance floor,” even though it’s just grass with good lighting.
Delaney glances at them.
Then back at me.
I feel the question in the air before she says it.
“Do you…” Her voice falters. She tries again. “Do you want to dance?”
Dance.
Me.
I haven’t willingly danced since I was a teenager and forced into a school gym under the threat of a failing grade. But with her? Her fingers already brushing the fabric of her dress, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in a shy little question…
I’d walk into fire.
I nod.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I do.”
Her smile could warm the whole valley.
She reaches for my hand.
And my world narrows to the moment her fingers touch mine. Small and soft and warm. A live current sparking under my skin.
She leads me to the open space. Couples sway around us. Olivia tucked under Jesse’s chin, Sloane humming against Roman’s chest, even Boone reluctantly dancing because Sadie dragged him by the hand.
Delaney steps close.
Close enough that I smell her. Vanilla and honey and smoke, comforting and intoxicating all at once.
Close enough that when I put my hand on her waist, her breath flutters.
Close enough that every part of me aches with how badly I want her.
The music hums low. Crickets chirp.
She sways with me gently, her hand resting on my chest, testing whether my heart is really beating as hard as she thinks.
It is.
“You’re good at this,” she whispers.
“No,” I admit quietly. “I’m not. Not with anyone else.”
Her cheeks flush deeper. “Oh.”
She looks up.
And I fall into her eyes as if they’re the first stars of the night sky.
We move slow. Easy. We might as well have done it a hundred times instead of never. Her fingers curl behind my neck. Mine tighten at her waist. Her thigh brushes mine, just barely, but enough to send heat spiraling up my spine.
She tilts her face up to me, lips parted, breath warm against my mouth. Her eyes flutter shut, lashes trembling. She’s standing at the very edge of everything she wants and fears at the same time.
I lean in.
Her breath catches, and then she leans in too, her nose brushing mine, her fingers tightening at the nape of my neck. A silent, desperate yes.
Her lips hover over mine.
A bare breath away.
So close I can taste the sweetness between us.
So close the world narrows to nothing but her.
So close my heart slams once, hard, and then stops entirely.
I close the distance…
And our lips finally meet.
Her mouth parts under mine, warm and sweet and wanting, her fingers fisting in my shirt as she leans into the kiss. Heat flares through me as I deepen the kiss just a fraction, letting her feel every ounce of what I’m trying so damn hard not to say out loud.
She exhales a quiet, helpless sound against my mouth, and it nearly drags me under.
I cup her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek, pulling her closer until her body fits flush against mine. Her hands slide down my chest, gripping, anchoring us both as the kiss turns deeper, hungrier, her lips moving against mine, tasting the part of herself she’s been trying to deny.
And then…
“Oh, come on, guys… make it interesting for us!”
Roman’s voice blasts across the field on a stadium mic.
Delaney jerks so hard she nearly slips.
I freeze mid-kiss, breath still tangled with hers.
A chorus of groans and laughter ripples through the crowd.
Roman stands on top of a picnic table, drink raised, grinning because he absolutely believes he’s the funniest person alive.
“Put some back into it, Westbrook,” he hollers. “I’ve seen middle schoolers commit more.”
Ezra drags a hand down his face.
Creed mutters, “Sit down.”
Sloane throws a napkin at him. “Roman, for the love of everything, shut up.”
Boone looks one second away from murder.
Silas is doubled over laughing.
Jesse is shaking his head. This is a fire he refuses to respond to.
Delaney hides her face in my chest, mortified. Her hands are still clutching my shirt. Her body is still pressed against mine. Her breath still trembles against my skin.
My heart is still pounding, trying to escape my ribs.
I lower my head so my lips brush the top of her hair.
“We can ignore him,” I murmur.
She peeks up, cheeks blazing, eyes still a little dazed from the kiss.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “He’s very loud.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “But I’m very stubborn.”
Her lips curve into the smallest smile.
Soft.
Shy.
Still tinged with heat.
And in that moment, with her still in my arms, still warm from the kiss, still looking at me. Maybe she’d let me kiss her again…
I know one thing with absolute, gut-deep certainty:
I’m not done.
Not even close.