Chapter 5
TANNER
I pulled up to the campground where Waverly was staying at ten o'clock on the dot. She was already waiting for me, leaning against the side of her truck with her arms crossed and her hat pulled down low over her eyes. She pushed off when she saw me and headed my way.
I’d offered to pick her up since I had to pass by the campground and there was no sense in both of us wasting gas, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to handle sitting next to her for the forty-five-minute drive.
Before I could decide whether I should get out and open her door for her, she climbed into the passenger seat.
She had on another pair of jeans that looked like they’d been painted right onto her skin, and as soon as her ass hit the seat, the scent of warm sugar drifted over.
I tried to swallow but my mouth had gone bone dry.
“Good morning,” I said, keeping my eyes on the dash.
“Morning.” She pulled her seatbelt on, and the metal clicked into place. “Thanks for the ride.”
I didn’t want her thinking I’d gone out of my way or make a big deal out of us riding together. “Had to drive right past to get there. Makes sense that we’d ride together.”
“Well, I appreciate it anyway.” Her voice was light and friendly, like we hadn’t butted heads last night at the café.
“So we’re going to check out the sorrel mare this morning?"
"Yeah." She nodded, settled back against the seat, and didn't say anything else.
“There’s an extra coffee if you want it.” I gestured toward a paper cup sitting in the second cupholder.
“Thanks.” She reached for it, giving me a genuine smile as she did. Something inside my chest tightened.
I kept my eyes on the road after that and my hands steady on the wheel.
This was how things between us needed to be.
We could be nice to each other without crossing a line.
There was no room for anything that didn't belong, like that kiss that had come out of nowhere and rocked my carefully constructed world.
The kiss had been a mistake… a serious lapse in judgment I wouldn't repeat. And if I kept my focus where it belonged, on the horses, on the work, on the reputation I'd spent years building, then everything else would fade into the background.
That was the plan. But twenty minutes was a long time to sit in silence with a woman who made silence feel louder than it should. She didn't fidget. Didn't pull out her phone or try to make small talk to fill the space between us.
She just sat there, staring out the windshield like she didn't need anything from me except what I'd already agreed to give.
That should have made things easier. Instead, it made me hyperaware of every shift in her posture, every little sigh, and every time her gaze drifted toward the window and then back toward me.
I tightened my grip on the wheel and focused on the road.
The Thacker place sat about twenty-five miles outside of town. They had a little over fifty acres of open pasture, a weathered but solid barn, and an outdoor pen where a gorgeous sorrel mare waited for us.
Dusty, their ranch hand, met us at the gate. "She's warmed up and ready," he said, gesturing toward the pen. "Take your time and come find me if you need anything."
The four-year-old mare was already saddled and loosely tied to the top rail. Waverly entered the arena and slowly approached. The mare watched her, not showing any sign of nerves. When Waverly reached her, she ran a hand down the horse’s shoulder and murmured something too low for me to catch.
I leaned against the rail and watched. The mare moved well.
She was balanced and responsive. Waverly took her through a figure-eight and came out clean.
I saw a good foundation and a solid temperament.
The mare had room to improve but already showed signs of being competitive. She was a solid horse.
Waverly pulled up and walked the mare over to the rail. "What do you think?"
"She's good," I said. "Better than the gelding we saw yesterday."
"But?"
I straightened and met her gaze. "She's not ready for the level you're competing at. Not yet."
Waverly tilted her head, studying me for a long moment. "You said the same thing about the last one."
"Because it was true."
"Or because you're still looking for reasons to say no."
The words were quiet and direct, but they didn't hold any heat. Still, they landed like a solid punch to my gut.
"I'm giving you an honest evaluation," I said.
"Are you?"
"Yes."
She shifted her weight, one hand resting on the mare's neck. "You said she's good. You said she's solid. But you won't tell me to take her."
"Because you need better than solid."
"And you need to stop pretending this is about the horses."
The air between us crackled.
"It is about the horses," I said.
"No. It's about you trying to keep me at a distance because you don't know what to do with the fact that you kissed me and didn't hate it."
Tension rolled through my shoulders. "That's not—"
"It is." She didn't raise her voice. Didn't move closer. Just held my gaze, steady and unflinching. "You said it was a mistake. Said it wouldn't happen again. And you've spent every conversation since acting like nothing changed when we both know it did."
"Nothing did change."
"Liar." Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head.
I stepped back from the rail, trying to put space between us, hating the fact that she was right. "I'm trying to keep this professional.”
"No. You're trying to keep it safe." She dismounted and looped the reins over the top rail. Then she walked toward me, stopping just out of reach. "There's a difference."
"Waverly—"
"You kissed me, Tanner. And now you're standing here acting like I'm the one who crossed a line."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." She didn't look away and didn't back down. Just stood there, challenging me to either tell the truth or keep hiding behind the same excuses I'd been using since the moment she walked onto my property.
"This can't go anywhere," I said.
"So you've said." One hand went to her hip, drawing my attention to those jeans again. “Multiple times.”
"And I mean it."
"I don’t doubt you do." She tilted her head slightly, those green eyes never leaving mine. "But that doesn't make it true."
My hands flexed at my sides. "You don't understand what you're asking."
"I'm not asking for anything." Her voice stayed calm and controlled. "But I'm also not going to stand here and pretend you don't look at me like you want to do it again."
Her words hit a raw nerve and left me standing there without a single defense except the one I'd been clinging to from the start. And it was wearing thinner every time I saw her.
I could walk away. Dammit, I should walk away. But I didn't.
Instead, I closed the distance between us, caught her jaw in one hand, and kissed her. Again.
She didn't hesitate or pull back or give me time to second-guess myself. Just opened for me, her hands sliding up to grip my shirt, and kissed me back like she'd been waiting for me to stop running.
When I finally forced myself to pull back, I rested my forehead against hers. Both of us were breathing hard.
"This is a hell of a bad idea," I said.
She nodded.
"People are going to talk."
"Let them." A spark of defiance flashed in her eyes.
I was playing with fire, and it was raging out of control. Every time she challenged me, I just wanted her more. And I was done fighting it.
My boots crunched on the gravel as I headed back toward the truck. Waverly followed.
Neither of us said a word while I started the engine. I pulled out of the Thacker’s drive and turned the opposite direction from town.
Waverly didn’t ask where we were going. She just sat back in her seat while my truck ate up the miles between the Thacker’s place and the little line cabin that sat on the far edge of Hollister land.
No one used it anymore. No one would see my truck parked out front.
No one would know we were there. And I could finally stop pretending that I had any sense of control when it came to Waverly Kincaid.
The cabin sat back from the dirt road, half-hidden by trees and the natural slope of the land. No one came out here unless they meant to. No one but me, and only when I needed space from the ranch, from the weight of the name on the gate, and from the expectations that came with it.
I killed the engine. The silence that followed wasn’t quiet. The wind blew through the trees and Waverly let out a soft breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
She didn’t wait for me to open her door or lead the way. Just stepped out, her boots hitting the dirt, and looked at me like she already knew what she wanted.
I still had time to put a stop to this. Still had time to drive her back to her truck and pretend this little detour never happened. But the way she looked at me with heat in her eyes, like she could see right through every excuse I’d ever made, cemented my boots to the ground.
Her brows lifted in curiosity as she walked past me and up the steps. She didn’t knock.
Just turned the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped inside like she belonged there.
The cabin wasn’t much. An old but functional woodstove sat in one corner with a narrow bed against the wall.
My granddad had made the table and two chairs underneath the window decades ago.
Dust motes hung in the slanted afternoon light and the air smelled like old wood and the faint trace of the last fire I’d built here, weeks ago.
Waverly turned toward me, her hat already in her hand, her long reddish-brown hair loose around her shoulders. She tossed the hat onto the table, and it landed with a soft thud.
“So, is this where you bring all the girls?” she teased.
“There are no other girls.” I pulled the door closed behind me, unwilling to play any more games. The click of the latch sounded louder than gunfire.
She didn’t move. Her feet stayed planted, like she was giving me one last chance to walk away.
I didn’t take it.
I covered the space between us in three long strides, caught her face between my hands, and kissed her like I’d been starving for her.
She let out a low moan and dug her fingers into my shoulders, pulling me closer.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was teeth and tongue and the kind of hunger that had been building for days.
Her back hit the wall. I pressed my thigh between her legs and slid my hands down to grip her hips. She arched into me, her breath hot against my mouth.
“Tell me to stop,” I said.
She let out a soft laugh. “Never.”
I kissed her again, harder this time, my hands moving under her shirt. Her skin was smooth and warm under my palms. She gasped when I found her breast and tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck.
“This is your last chance to walk away,” I growled against her lips.
She grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it over my head. “Shut up, Hollister.”
That was the only answer I needed. I lifted her, cradling her ass in my hands while she wrapped her legs around my waist. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it to the bed, but somehow, we did.
She didn’t let go when I laid her down. Not even when I stripped her jeans off, or when I followed the path of my hands with my mouth.
She was all heat and demand underneath me, her hands in my hair, her thighs tightening around my hips.
I kissed my way down her stomach, then lingered at the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips.
She was soft where I was hard, curved where I wasn’t, and every inch of her fit against me like she’d been made for this. No, not for this. For me.
The thought should have sent me running back to my ranch. Instead, it made me reckless.
I stripped her underwear off with my teeth, her breath hitching as I dragged them down her legs. Then I was between her thighs, my hands gripping her hips, my mouth on her before she could even take her next breath.
She tasted like heaven. Her hands fisted in my hair while her hips lifted off the bed. I didn’t let up. Didn’t give her time to think or to second-guess or to do anything but take what I was giving her. Her thighs shook around my shoulders, her breath coming in sharp, broken gasps.
“Tanner—”
“I’ve got you, sweet girl.” I flattened my tongue, circled her clit, and she came hard, her body tightening around nothing, her hands gripping the sheets. I didn’t stop. Kept working her through it, drawing out every shudder and gasp, until her entire body went limp.
Then I was on my feet, stripping off my boots, my jeans, and my boxers. She watched me, her chest rising and falling, her eyes still dark with need.
I grabbed a condom from my wallet, rolled it on, and kneeled over her. She reached for me, her hands sliding up my arms, her legs parting.
“You sure?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
She wrapped her hand around my cock, guiding me to her entrance. “Stop talking.”
With pleasure. I thrust into her in one smooth motion, her body taking me deep, her nails digging into my shoulders. She was tight, hot, and perfect. And the low, desperate sound she made when I buried myself inside her almost undid me.
I buried my face in her neck, my hands gripping her hips, and moved.
It wasn’t slow or gentle. It was hard and fast and exactly what we both needed.
There was no room for doubt, no space for anything but this.
The bed creaked under us. The only other sound besides her breath in my ear was the slick slide of skin against skin.
She met me stroke for stroke, her heels digging into my back, her hips rising to take me deeper. Her pussy tightened around me, and her breath came faster. Her fingers dug into my skin, urging me on.
“I’m close,” she gasped.
I reached between us, found her clit with my thumb and circled in time with my thrusts. She arched under me, her body tensing. Her nails raked down my back as she came again, her inner walls clamping down around me.
I followed her over the edge, and my release slammed into me like a tidal wave. A shiver ran through me as I emptied into her. When I was finally done, I buried my face in her shoulder, my breath ragged, my hands gripping her like she was the only thing keeping me grounded.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing, the slow return of my pulse, the weight of her under me.
Then she turned her head, her lips brushing my ear. “Took you long enough.”