Chapter 3 Barn
I felt her start to shiver. Even with me pressed up against her back, I could tell the cold was creeping in. It was winter, after all—nights had already started freezing this week.
I gave Shakespeare a light kick. He knew exactly where we were going.
Home.
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled into my driveway. I swung down first, then tipped my hat like a damn showman.
“Welcome to Casa de Cash. Closest thing to a motel you’re gonna get tonight, ma’am.”
She blinked. “What?”
I helped her down carefully, watching her ankle.
“This was the best plan I could come up with at 11 p.m. in the middle of nowhere.”
I didn’t give her a chance to argue or hesitate. Just pressed the keys into her hand before she could say a word.
“There. Make yourself at home. I’ll go unsaddle the horse.”
She hesitated on the porch. I glanced back. “Come on now. You’re pretty much already my wife—don’t start acting shy.”
She smirked, just a little. “Thanks… I guess.”
If only she knew how little she had to thank me for. And I really hoped she wouldn’t Google Dalmore. Because then she’d know Bert’s damn inn was only two blocks away.
When I came back in from the barn, there she was—sitting on my damn couch, wrapped in a blanket twice her size.
Not gonna lie…she looked like she belonged here.
I nodded toward the fireplace.
“I’ll get the fire going.”
She looked up. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“This whole… host thing.”
I tossed a few logs in, struck a match.
“It’s not hosting. I just don’t feel like freezing my balls off.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Not really.” I turned back toward her. “See, us men? Not great with encrypted female subtext. Just say it.”
She hesitated.
“I just mean… you’ve been really kind and all, but I hope you’re not expecting…”
That was the first time I saw her actually flustered. Right then the fire flared up—and I saw it: the tiniest blush across her cheeks. Hell, she looked good like that.
“You’re saying you don’t wanna sleep with me?”
“I’m saying… no. Or yes. I mean—ugh.”
“You should’ve thought of that before almost winning the bet.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” I said, straight-faced. “In Dalmore, bets are considered 50% binding.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re messing with me.”
“Why would I do that?” I grinned and sat beside her—just close enough to ‘accidentally’ brush against her arm. Or knee. Or both.
Not gonna lie—self-control was running low.
“I’m serious,” I said. “Tomorrow we have to go to the county clerk’s office. Get the paperwork started. Half-engaged is still engaged.”
She laughed, half-nervous, half-something else. And I could tell… she still didn’t know if I was bullshitting or not.
Which made it all the more fun.
I wanted nothing more than to kiss those gorgeous cherry-colored lips.
But then I saw it. That flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t as fearless as she liked to pretend. And honestly?
She was too damn good to scare off.
“So, I’m guessing the night before our wedding, you’d prefer we sleep separately?” I raised a brow, trying to ease the tension.
She burst out laughing again. That sound—it did something to me. It grounded me and lit me up all at once.
“You haven’t even proposed,” she teased. “And without that, none of this means anything.”
“Thank you for letting me know your expectations. I’ll make sure to keep them in mind moving forward.”
I said it as seriously as I could, which only earned me a pillow to the face.
“I don’t even know your last name!” she grinned.
“Would you like to know what you’ll be called from tomorrow on?”
She kept laughing. And God, I wanted to spend my life making her do just that. Jesus. My whole body burned for her.
I couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop wanting. Every muscle in me screamed to pull her closer, drag her upstairs, and make her mine.
She didn’t move.
She felt it too—I could tell.
She was weighing it.
Wondering if this was about to happen.
But then she blinked, broke the silence, and pulled us back:
“Look, you’ve been great. Heroic even. But I don’t do ‘same-bed’ on night one almost-fiancé.”
“You sure you’re good with the couch?” I asked, pushing down the grin. “I mean… I got a real bed. In a room. Comes with a handsome cowboy.”
“Yeah, pretty sure.”
She flashed me that look again—half smug, half tempting.
And I just sat there.
Completely, irreversibly fucked.
The fact that she wasn’t the one-night-stand kind only made her more irresistible.
God help me.
“Alright then, Willa,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Sleep tight. And if you change your mind…”
“I won’t.”
“Just saying. In case you have a nightmare, or get cold, or suddenly realize you miss me.”
“Let me guess. I should just come upstairs?”
“Smart and pretty. I really gotta keep an eye on you. Wouldn’t want someone to snatch you up before our wedding day.”
She grinned.
Completely convinced I was joking. And damn, if I wasn’t more sure about her than I’d ever been about anyone.
“Alright, then,” I said, standing. “Sweet dreams. Don’t mind me—I’ll be cuddling with Johnny tonight.”
I reached for the cabinet, grabbed a bottle of Johnny Walker, and headed for the stairs. Halfway up, I turned back.
“Just so we’re clear, you won’t mind if I actively think about you the rest of the night, right?” I winked.
“Good night, Cash.”
I was already in my room, door half closed, when I heard her soft, unmistakable laugh float up the stairs.
And damn.
I felt like the luckiest idiot alive.