Chapter 7 Reine
CHAPTER SEVEN
REINE
By the time I pull my truck out of The Feedlot parking lot, my hands are shaking so bad I have to grip the wheel in both fists just to keep it straight.
My brain is spinning in circles. Every nerve ending buzzes like I just drank my weight in energy drinks.
I glance in the rearview mirror, seeing Cole following right behind me.
By the time I turn onto the gravel road leading to the ranch house, my brain has replayed every moment of the day several times.
I park my truck and watch as Cole parks beside me.
For a long second, neither of us moves. I can see his silhouette in the driver’s seat, broad shoulders and that unfairly perfect profile lit by the dashboard glow.
I’m suddenly seventeen again, parked outside the old rodeo arena with a boy who says he loves me, hoping he’ll try something stupid.
Except this isn’t high school, and the guy in the truck next to me is the kind of man who always goes for exactly what he wants.
He gets out first, boots crunching on gravel.
There’s no hesitation. He just moves. My hands fumble with the keys, and I barely manage to grip the door handle before he’s at my door, opening it like a gentleman, and then crowding the space, his arm braced on the roof, his body blocking the night wind.
He’s so close I can smell his woodsy scent, and it’s better than any drug.
“You okay, Montana?” His voice is soft, but there’s a thread of steel under it, like he’d rip the universe in half if I said no.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying for casual. It comes out shaky. “You didn’t have to follow me home, you know.”
He smiles. Not the lazy, cocky grin from the restaurant, but something softer, dangerous. “I had to make sure you got home safe.”
We walk to the porch in silence, boots thumping on the boards. The house is dark, and I figure Grams must be asleep, or at least pretending not to notice my after-midnight arrival. Cole doesn’t say anything until we reach the top step, and then he turns, pinning me in place with that look.
“Reine.” He breathes my name against my lips. “I know we’re slowing things down. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t want to kiss you right now.”
My knees buckle a little. I catch the rail, just to be safe. The world narrows to the heat of his body and the molten blue of his eyes.
My brain short-circuits. There’s no way this is a good idea. I’m already addicted to this man, and we’ve only just met. But the thought of him walking away makes me ache in places I didn’t even know I had.
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I step closer, until there’s less than an inch between us, and tip my head up to look him square in the face.
He’s even taller up close, and his jaw looks sharp enough to cut glass.
I reach out, just for a second, and rest my hand on his chest. His heart is beating so hard I can feel it through his shirt.
“We can go slow tomorrow,” I whisper.
I don’t remember making the decision. One second, I’m standing there, and the next, I’m on tiptoe, pressing my mouth to his.
It’s like the spark that’s been arcing between us all night finally finds ground.
He kisses me back, slow and deep, his hands cradling my face.
It’s not gentle, but it’s not a rush job, either.
He kisses like he’s got all the time in the world and he’s going to savor every second.
I melt. There’s no other word for it. My body goes boneless, and I’m floating, his arms around me the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.
He tastes like whiskey and sin and a promise I never knew I needed.
I lose all track of time as his lips devour mine.
All I know is that when we finally break apart, I’m breathless and grinning like a fool.
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “I’m never going to sleep tonight, Montana.”
The nickname makes my chest squeeze. “Me neither, Texas.”
“What time do you get going around here?” His words confuse me.
“Huh?” Did I black out and miss part of this conversation?
“I want to know what time I need to be here tomorrow morning,” he explains, but I’m still not completely sure where this is going.
“Wait a minute.” I take a step back, hoping a little distance will help clear the fog from my mind. “Why’re you coming by tomorrow?” Is he already going back on his word and coming back for Thunderbolt?
“Because I need to know how things work on your ranch if I’m going to help you run it.”
The words hit me so hard I nearly trip over my own feet. “What?” My voice comes out half an octave too high, but at least I don’t flat-out squeak.
He grins, full alpha mode, all cocky and smug. “You heard me.” Cole crowds closer like he’s about to eat me alive. “If I’m going to be a part of your life, I need to know how you do things. Every day. I want to see you in your element, Montana.”
Oh, for the love of… This man. I can’t decide if I want to deck him or drag him inside and do unmentionable things on the kitchen table. “Six am.”
“I’ll see you then.” He leans over and gives me one more quick kiss on my lips, then turns to step off the porch. “Goodnight, Montana.” I rub my tingling lips and watch him walk away, wondering if this is all a dream or if I really did win the suitor lottery.
“Goodnight, Texas,” I call to him, my voice about two octaves too high.
He walks back to his truck, hands in his pockets, and I watch him go, hoping I never wake up if this is a dream.
Five thirty a.m. comes at me like a punch to the face.
My eyes are gritty and my brain hasn’t stopped spinning, but I drag myself upright anyway.
This is it, Reine. No hiding. No pretending.
I shower fast, yank on my softest jeans and a faded flannel, then stare at my reflection for a hot minute, debating mascara.
Screw it. If Cole’s going to be around, he’d better get used to the real me.
No makeup, hair scraped back in a messy ponytail, dark circles and all.
I skip down the stairs, expecting an empty kitchen and maybe a few minutes to panic in peace.
My heart squeezes when my eyes fall on Cole Carrington.
Darn. How is he so annoyingly hot at this time of the morning?
He’s sitting at the kitchen table next to Grams, his hat perched on the back of an empty chair, and they’re both grinning at me.
"Good morning, Montana." He pushes back from the worn oak table, his chair scraping against the faded linoleum. The morning sunlight catches in his tousled dark hair as he walks over, his boots clicking deliberately with each step. "How'd you sleep?"
"Morning." The full force of him of him washes over me, making it hard to form words. "It was a really short night," I manage to mumble, breathing in his clean scent.
"Sorry about that." Cole smirks, the look in his eyes warming me in a way that sends shivers down my spine.
"No, you aren't." I laugh and step toward the coffee pot for some desperately needed caffeine.
"You're not wrong." He turns to Grams. "She already knows me so well." When he winks at her, my no-nonsense grandmother falls under his spell.