Chapter 4 - Boone
I hear her door open before I see her.
My entire body tenses, every muscle coiling tight. I should've stayed in my room. Should've fought through the insomnia and the hard-on that won't quit and the obsessive replaying of every single moment from tonight.
Instead, I'm out here drinking water at midnight like that'll solve any of my problems.
"Can't sleep either?" Her voice is soft, hesitant.
I turn and immediately regret it.
She's wearing my clothes. My flannel shirt, so big on her it's practically a dress, hanging off one shoulder and showing the curve of her neck.
My sweatpants, rolled at the waist, sitting low on her hips.
Her short blonde hair is damp and messy.
Her face is makeup-free, fresh and impossibly beautiful.
And she's not wearing a bra. I can tell. Can see the outline of her nipples through the flannel, can see how her tits move when she walks, heavy and perfect and—
Stop. Jesus fucking Christ, stop.
"Adrenaline," I manage, forcing my eyes to her face and keeping them there. "Takes a while to come down from it."
"Yeah." She moves into the kitchen slowly, like she's not sure she's welcome. "Me too."
She is welcome. She's always welcome. That's the problem.
"Want some water?" I gesture to the glass in my hand.
"Sure. Thanks."
I pour her a glass and slide it across the counter to maintain the distance between us. If I get too close, if I smell her wearing my clothes, covered in my soap, I'm going to do something stupid.
Something I can't take back.
She drinks slowly, watching me over the rim of the glass. Those brown eyes are too perceptive. See too much. Always have.
"You okay?" she asks.
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
A surprised laugh escapes me. "What makes you say that?"
"You've been clenching your jaw so hard I'm surprised your teeth haven't cracked." She sets down the glass. "And you're gripping that counter like it personally offended you."
I look down. She's right. My knuckles are white, fingers digging into the granite. I force myself to relax, to unclench my jaw, to breathe normally.
"Better?" I ask.
"Not really. Now you just look constipated."
Another laugh, this one more genuine. "Thanks for that."
"Just being honest." She hops up to sit on the counter, and my flannel rides up her thighs. I see the sweatpants underneath, see inches of soft skin above them, and my cock pulses with interest.
I take a long drink of water and pray for strength.
"So," she says, swinging her legs like a kid. "You gonna tell me what's really bothering you? Or do I have to guess?"
"Nothing's bothering me."
"Boone."
"Nicole."
She grins. "We can do this all night. I'm stubborn as hell and you know it."
I do know it. Seen it a hundred times. Watched her argue with Colt for hours over nothing, neither one willing to back down. It's one of the things I lov-
Nope. Not going there.
"Fine." I lean against the opposite counter, maintaining distance. "I keep thinking about what could've happened if you hadn't called. If you hadn't locked yourself in that bathroom. If I'd gotten there five minutes later."
Her expression softens. "But you didn't. You got there in time. I'm fine."
"You shouldn't have been in that situation at all."
"I know. I made bad choices tonight. Trusted the wrong person. Stayed at a party I should've left." She shrugs, but there's pain in her eyes. "Not exactly my finest moment."
"That's not what I meant. You didn't do anything wrong. He did. He's the piece of shit who couldn't take no for an answer."
"I know that too. Doesn't make me feel less stupid for not seeing it coming."
"You can't always see it coming. That's what makes guys like him dangerous. They're nice until they're not." I run a hand through my damp hair. "But you did the right thing. You got away. You called for help. You survived."
"Because of you."
"You would've figured it out even without me."
"Maybe. But I'm glad I didn't have to." She tilts her head. "Can I ask you something?"
"Depends on the question."
"Why'd you sound so scared when you answered the phone? Your voice was different. I've never heard you like that."
Scared doesn't begin to cover it. Terrified. Panicked. Ready to tear apart anyone who hurt her with my bare hands.
"Because someone I care about was in danger," I confess. "That tends to inspire fear."
"Someone you care about," she repeats. "That's a nice way to say 'Colt's annoying friend who calls at inappropriate hours.'"
"That's not how I see you."
"No? How do you see me then?"
Dangerous question. Minefield question. Question I absolutely cannot answer honestly.
"As someone worth protecting," I say instead. "As someone important."
"To Colt."
"To me."
I shouldn't have said that. Should've deflected. Should've kept things light and friendly and appropriate. But I'm tired of lying. Tired of pretending she doesn't matter. Even if I can't tell her the whole truth, I can at least give her this much.
Her eyes widen slightly. "Really?"
"Really. You think I'd drive like a maniac and punch out strangers for just anyone?"
"I think you're the kind of man who'd do that for anyone who needed help."
She's not wrong. But she's not entirely right either.
"Maybe," I concede. "But it hits different when it's you."
She bites her lip, and I have to look away before I do something stupid.
"Can I ask you something else?" she asks.
"You're full of questions tonight."
"Humor me. I'm traumatized and vulnerable."
That makes me smile despite everything. "Fine. Ask."
"Do you ever regret staying in Blackwater Falls? Never leaving?"
The question surprises me. "No. Why would I?"
"Because there's a whole world out there. Cities and experiences and opportunities you'll never have because you're stuck on this ranch in the middle of nowhere."
"I'm not stuck. I chose this. There's a difference."
"But don't you wonder? Don't you ever think about what else is out there?"
I lean back against the counter and consider the question seriously. "Sometimes. But then I remember why I'm here. Frank gave me something when I had nothing. This ranch, these people… They're my family. My purpose. Why would I leave that?"
"For love? For adventure? For something more?"
"This is more. At least for me." I meet her eyes. "What about you? Do you regret staying?"
Her smile fades. "Every single day."
The admission hits me harder than expected. "Then why do you?"
"Because I don't have anywhere else to go.
I used to have dreams. Travel, see the world, build a life bigger than this town.
But then Dad died and Mom got sick, and I stayed to take care of her.
And then she died too, and by that point.
.." She shrugs. "The dreams died with them, I guess.
Now I'm just... here. Existing. Pouring drinks and going to shitty parties because my friends think I need to 'live a little. '"
There's so much pain in her voice. "You could still leave. Chase those dreams. It's not too late."
"Isn't it? I'm twenty-two, broke, and my only skill is mixing drinks. Not exactly recipe for world travel."
"You're also smart, determined, and braver than you think. If you wanted to leave, you'd find a way."
"Maybe I don't want to anymore. Maybe I'm too tired to want anything."
I hate that. Hate hearing the defeat in her voice. Hate that this vibrant, beautiful woman feels trapped and hopeless.
"What did you want to see?" I ask. "Back when you had those dreams?"
She looks at me like I'm crazy. "What?"
"If money and circumstances weren't an issue, what places did you want to visit?"
A small smile tugs at her lips. "You really want to know?"
"I really want to know."
She's quiet for a moment, and I can see her traveling back in time, remembering the person she used to be before grief and responsibility crushed her dreams.
"Italy," she finally says. "I wanted to see Rome and Venice and Florence. Wanted to eat real Italian food and see real Italian art and just... exist somewhere beautiful for a while."
"What else?"
"Ireland. Because Dad's family was Irish and he used to tell me stories about green hills and ancient castles and pubs where everyone knows your name.
" Her smile grows. "Japan. Because I loved anime as a kid and wanted to see if it was anything like the shows.
Greece. Because I read too much mythology and wanted to see the Parthenon. "
"Those are good dreams."
"Were good dreams. Past tense."
"Could be good dreams again. Future tense."
She shakes her head. "It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
"Because dreams require hope, and I'm fresh out."
I push off the counter and move a little closer. Not too close, just enough to make sure she hears me.
"You're not out of hope," I tell her. "You're just tired. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yeah. Tired can be fixed with rest. Hopeless is permanent. And you're not hopeless, Nicole. You're here, alive, making it through each day. That takes hope even if you don't see it."
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "You always know what to say."
"Not always. Usually, I say the wrong thing and piss people off. Ask Colt."
That earns me a watery laugh. "Colt's just sensitive."
"Colt's a pain in my ass is what he is."
"You love him."
"Doesn't mean he's not a pain in my ass."
She's fully smiling now, tears forgotten. Good. I'll take her smile over her sadness any day.
"What about you?" she asks. "What are your dreams?"
Keep the ranch running. Keep my family together. Find a way to make you see me as something other than Colt's older brother.
"Simple stuff," I say instead. "Build something that lasts. Make Frank proud. Maybe fall in love with someone who actually gives a shit about keeping promises."
"Girl who cheated?"
"Yes."
"What was she like?"
"Blonde. Pretty. Ambitious." Everything Nicole isn't, except the pretty part. Nicole's fucking gorgeous and she doesn't even know it. "Thought she wanted the same things I did. Turns out she just wanted the ranch."
"She wanted Promise Ranch?"
"More specifically, she wanted what she thought the ranch could become. Luxury guest ranch. High-end tourism. Development opportunities." I shake my head. "When she realized I'd never sell or change it, she found someone who would give her what she wanted."
"That's awful."
"It taught me something important. Taught me to wait for someone who wants me, not what I can give them. Someone who understands that some things matter more than money or status or whatever the hell else people chase."
"Like family."
"Like family," I agree. "Like keeping promises to the people who believed in you. Like building something real instead of something that looks good on the surface but has no foundation."
"You're going to make someone very happy someday," she says quietly.
If that someone is you, I'll die content.
"Maybe," I say. "If I ever stop being married to this ranch long enough to notice anyone."
"You notice things. You're probably the most observant person I know."
"Observant about horses and cattle. Not so much about people."
"I don't believe that. You saw I was in trouble tonight before I even finished my sentence. That takes observation."
"That takes giving a shit."
"Same thing, in your case." She hops down from the counter, and my flannel shifts, revealing more of that smooth shoulder. "I should probably try to sleep. Big day tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?"
"I have to figure out how to get my car from that party. And probably tell Colt what happened before someone else does. And maybe hide in my apartment for the rest of my life."
"You don't have to do any of that tomorrow. Take a day. Rest. Figure things out when your head's clearer."
"I can't just hide here forever."
Why not? I want to ask. Stay. Live here. Let me take care of you. Let me show you that not all men are like Jason. Let me worship every curve of your body the way you deserve.
"You can stay as long as you need," I say instead. "I mean it. No rush."
"Thank you." She moves toward the hallway, then pauses. "Boone?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad it was you. Tonight. I'm glad I called you and not someone else. I'm glad you're the person I trust when everything goes to shit."
"Me too."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Nicole."
She disappears down the hallway. Her door closes softly. I stand in the kitchen for a long time, staring at the space where she was, trying to process everything we just talked about.
She wants to leave. Wants to chase dreams. Wants more than this small town can offer. And I'm rooted here. Promised Frank I'd never leave. Committed to this ranch and this life in a way that can't be undone.
We want different things. Different futures. Different lives.
But God help me, I want her anyway. Want her with an intensity that scares me. Want her so badly I ache with it. I finish my water and rinse the glass, moving through familiar motions to ground myself. The cottage is quiet. Dark. Safe.
Nicole's in my guest room, wearing my clothes, sleeping under my roof.
It's not enough. Will never be enough.
But it's all I get, so I'll take it.
I head back to my room and climb into bed, knowing sleep won't come easy. My mind's too full. My body's too wound up. My heart's too tangled in feelings I shouldn't have for a woman who dreams of leaving everything I love behind.
But I close my eyes anyway. Force myself to breathe deeply. Try to find peace in the knowledge that she's safe, she's here, and for tonight at least, that's enough.
Across the hall, I hear her moving around. Sheets rustling. The bed creaking slightly as she settles in.
I imagine her in that oversized flannel, blonde hair messy on the pillow, those curves hidden under layers of fabric I want to peel away slowly.
My cock hardens again, insistent and demanding. I ignore it. I've gotten good at that over the years. Good at denying myself what I want because what I want is off-limits.
Eventually, the sounds from her room stop. She's asleep, or close to it.
I stare at the ceiling and try to do the same, knowing tomorrow will bring new complications, new challenges, new reasons why wanting Nicole Waters is the worst idea I've ever had.
But tonight, she's here. She's safe. She called me when she needed help.
And that's going to have to be enough.