Chapter 9
Sally
I don’t know which is more dangerous:
The way Nolan looks at me tonight.
Or the way I look back.
We’ve spent hours working side by side—flushing the new fuel filter, cleaning out what feels like decades of neglect, chasing down little gremlins in the wiring. Every time our hands brush, something inside me lights up like a spark hitting a fuse.
When we do this, we do it right.
Nolan’s words echo in my head.
It’s been a week since that kiss.
A week of subtle touches and lingering glances. Of near-misses and almosts. Of conversations that stay just shy of the edge, like we’re both waiting for someone to make the next move.
I’ve let him take the lead with whatever this is between us, but lately, doing it right feels less important than simply doing it.
Because I want him.
I want this growly, gruff man who hides his softer edges like they’re secrets he’s not sure he’s allowed to share.
I want the quiet parts of him. The loyal ones. The ones that feel too much and show too little. I want the hurt I see in his eyes, not so I can take it away, but so I can carry it with him.
Eventually, Nolan gives the Mustang a satisfied nod. “That’s enough for tonight.”
He wipes his hands. I pretend I’m not watching his forearms flex. He pretends he doesn’t know I’m pretending.
He locks the tool chest. I power down the camera.
There’s a moment when I could stay quiet. Could let this stretch between us another night, another week.
But I’ve spent too much of my life waiting for the “right person” and the “right time,” and missing the real one. The one standing in front of me, if I only have the courage to reach out and claim him. Because I never wanted perfect. And I’m done pretending I don’t already know what I want.
So I take a step closer. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off his body. Close enough to watch his breath hitch when I reach up, thread my fingers behind his neck, and press my mouth to his.
I kiss him slowly. Softly. I’m not asking. I’m offering.
Nolan’s hands hover like he’s afraid to grab hold too fast and break something. His lips part under mine with a low, wrecked sound. Just for a second…
But then he pulls back. “Sally, you deserve someone—”
I press my fingers against his lips. “I know what I deserve.” My hand is steady as I place it on his chest over his racing heart. “I don’t want perfect. I want real. I want you.”
His fists clench at his sides. His eyes flicker as if he’s losing the battle with himself.
“Someone made you think you were hard to love,” I say, knowing in my soul that the words are true as they leave my lips.
“But I want all of it. All of you. The parts you protect. The parts you hide. I want what’s real.
Messy. Brave. I’m not afraid of your edges, Nolan.
I want them because they’re a part of who you are. ”
He closes his eyes as if the force of those words physically hits him.
“You don’t have to protect me from this. From us,” I whisper. “I’m not afraid of what we are. Or what this could be.”
I raise my hands, cupping his face and forcing him to look at me. “I know you said when we do it, we do it right”—I press my forehead to his—“but Nolan, any way, any time with you is right. How could it not be?”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns away, scrubbing a hand over his face, shoulders hunched like he’s carrying something heavier than just a decision.
I freeze, my breath caught somewhere between hope and humiliation.
He’s rejecting me.
It lands like a blow to the ribs. I nod, blinking too fast, and force myself to turn toward the door. At least I tried. At least I said what I needed to say.
“Sally.”
My name is hoarse as it leaves his mouth.
I turn. He’s looking at me like I’m the first clear sky he’s seen in a long time.
“Come here,” he says softly.
Not a question.
Not a command.
An invitation.
I go.
He meets me halfway, like neither of us can bear the distance.
His hand lifts to my cheek, tentative at first, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he touches me wrong.
“You see me more clearly than anyone ever has,” he murmurs. “But there are things you don’t know. About Tangle Creek. About why I left. About me.”
I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. “I don’t need to know everything to know you. I see how you handle that car. How you treat me. Your care. Your patience. Your quiet loyalty that speaks louder than anything else.”
I step even closer, my voice low but certain. “I see you now. And I accept every part of what I see.”
That’s what breaks him.
He pulls me in like he’s been drowning and I’m the surface. His mouth finds mine in a desperate, needy kiss. I kiss him back with everything I have, every trembling ounce of want and promise.
He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I smile. “I think I do.”
All hesitation is gone as he slips his arms under my legs and lifts me effortlessly.
I gasp, looping my arms around his neck. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere I can show you all the things I haven’t figured out how to say,” he replies, quickly locking the shop doors before carrying me into a side room.
It’s not fancy. It’s a spare space, practical and private. A blanket is folded at the foot of a generous cot, and a small lamp throws soft light across the walls. But when he lays me down as if I’m precious, it becomes a sanctuary.
He sits beside me, brushing my hair back from my face. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
“I won’t.” My voice trembles with the truth. “I want you. All of you.”
He exhales as if that permission undoes him completely.
“I don’t carry protection on me,” he admits, cheeks flushing. “It’s been… a long time.”
I reach for his hand, intertwining our fingers. “Well, it’s been never for me.” I smile. “We’ll muddle through together.”
“We don’t have to go all the way,” he says huskily. “I may be a bit rusty, but I can still give you pleasure without—”
“Nolan,” I cut across him. “I’m on the pill. We’re definitely going all the way.”
His grin almost stops my heart. “Yes, ma’am.”