Chapter 2
He was here. A few feet away, leaning against the fence line as though he'd been standing there all along.
The brim of a black cowboy hat shadowed his face, and broad shoulders stretched the dark fabric of his shirt, the sleeves rolled to reveal powerful forearms. Dust clung to worn jeans and scuffed boots, and a pale scar cut from the corner of his mouth toward his cheek.
Ryder Kane.
Fourteen years had turned the boy I remembered into someone harder, darker, and seemingly more dangerous. He watched me with the same quiet intensity that used to make my heart race and send a shiver of fear through me but yet felt so safe and warm at the same time.
I crossed the pasture toward him, pulse hammering, and the only sound I could focus on was the dry grass whispering under my shoes. He didn’t move, but I saw the way his gaze dragged over me slowly, staring at my face, down my body, then back to my eyes.
“Lila.” My name came out low and rough, like the sound had been waiting in his chest for fourteen years.
I stopped a few feet away, heart hammering. “Ryder.”
His dark eyes moved over me slowly, taking in every change, as if he wanted to note every year I’d been gone.
“Saw your car comin’ up the drive.” The simple words carried weight.
I swallowed. “You’ve been… fixing things around here.”
He gave a single nod, gaze steady. “Place needed it.”
For a moment, the old barn, the new boards, the quiet care in it all hit me harder than I expected. This man I hadn’t seen since I was eighteen had been keeping my nightmare of a home standing while I was gone.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, but he didn’t acknowledge the thanks. Ryder watched me the way he always had, like he could see straight through every wall I’d ever built.
“You sellin’?” he finally said, voice low and gravel-rough.
I let out a shaky breath. “That’s the plan.”
“No.” The single word landed heavy, and I felt shock flash across my face..
A surprised laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “Excuse me? No?”
“You ain’t sellin’, Lila.”
The quiet certainty in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. This wasn’t the boy I remembered. This was a man who had spent years becoming someone harder. Someone dangerous.
“I don’t remember asking for permission.”
“Didn’t need to.” His scarred hand lifted slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was careful, almost reverent, but the look in his eyes burned with something possessive and unrelenting. “You’re stayin’.”
I was too shocked to respond to that. What in the hell was going on? Ryder was talking to me, hell, looking at me like he had some kind of claim. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in years.
He stepped around me and started toward the house, long strides eating up the ground like he already owned the place.
“Where are you going?” I asked, following a few steps behind.
“Back door don’t latch right. I’ll fix it.”
“How do you even know that?”
He paused at the corner of the porch but didn’t turn around. “Been keepin' her standing.” A long beat passed. “For you.”
My breath caught as it all slid into place. He’d been the one keeping things clean and taking care of this place. But why?
I didn't know what the hell to say, so I stayed quiet as I watched him disappear. The lowering sun stretched his shadow across the dry pasture until it reached my boots, dark and claiming. I got my room organized, put my clothes in the dresser, cleaned off the counters, and threw away things I knew I wouldn’t want.
By the time I walked back to the house, Ryder was nowhere to be found, and the back door latch was already fixed.
I opened the door with a shaky hand and stood there for a moment, trying to make sense of all of this.
That’s when I saw a coffee cup sitting on the small dining room table, steam still curling from it.
A torn slip of paper sat beside the cup, and written in bold black marker were four simple words that made something warm and dangerous uncurl low in my belly.
You still take it sweet.