16. Danger
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
danger
What the fuck is happening?
That’s my first thought, even as I’m sitting here, one hand wrapped around her.
Winnie Hawthorne is kissing me like the world’s burning down and I’m the last man here on it.
Not just a kiss. Not one of those I’m figuring you out kisses either.
It’s full-on, mouth hungry, her body on mine.
It’s not at all what I figured kissing Winnie would be like.
I always thought she’d kiss sweet, careful, with one eye on our audience. Maybe she’d pull away after three seconds and apologize for it. That’s not this. That’s not even close to this. She kisses like she wants this, and, fuck, do I let her.
She tastes like apple pie and something summery, one of those fruity drinks she always pretends not to like. There’s this scent of vanilla, like she’s always wearing cupcake batter, and it makes my head spin.
She pulls back slowly, lips still parted, hair wild. Her cheeks are flushed—more than I’ve ever seen, more than she ever lets on. She looks shocked by herself, like she didn’t expect to do that.
Before I get a word out, someone yells nearby.
“Fantastic,” voice heavy on sarcasm. “I think I just puked in my mouth.”
Rylee.
Winnie grins, she’s glowing. Hasn’t left my lap.
"You get the reaction you wanted?" I ask, keeping my voice steady even though my pulse is anything but.
She watches Rylee.
"Yeah." A corner of her mouth lifts. "I'd say she got the message."
"Hope it was worth her setting this place on fire."
Her eyes meet mine. "You gonna complain?"
I shake my head once. Slow. Honest. "Not a chance."
My mouth tingles. I’m still holdin’ her like I’m not ready to let go.
“Didn’t have you pegged for makin’ the first move though,” I add quietly.
Her smile curves. “You don’t know what kind of woman I am, Dutton.”
I’m Dutton now?
And damn, hearing her say my name is something I didn't know I was craving.
“Guess I don’t.”
She shifts just enough to remind me exactly where she’s sitting. “Okay, so what's the verdict? Did I pass the kiss test?” she asks nervously. “Or am I going to need more lessons for that, too?”
I lean in a fraction, keeping my voice just for her. “I think you should be careful kissing a man like that, sweetheart.”
Her brows lift. “Why’s that?”
“Because he might not let you go.”
She gives a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I don’t know if I buy that.”
My hands tighten—not to pull her closer. Just enough to tell the truth.
“You’re on my lap,” I say. “That’s all the proof you need.”
She doesn’t answer, just bites her bottom lip and looks away.
Behind me, someone clears his throat, about as subtle as a shotgun blast. I know that sound. I’ve heard it most of my life.
“Danger, can I talk to you a second?” Trouble asks, already walking away before I can answer.
Winnie looks like she wants to disappear.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her. She nods, and I help her off my lap.
Trouble doesn’t waste time. I barely make it to him before he rounds on me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I take one step closer, forcing him to tip his head up.
“What I want.”
His stare hardens. “What is this? What are you doing with Winnie? What the fuck are people gonna think?”
A slow breath through my nose. “Oh, you're questioning me? You trying to be the big brother now? You about to step up and take on everything that comes with it, too?”
“No,” he says. “I’m the one telling you to back off.”
“Why do you care?” I say it with bite. “I know you’re not fucking jealous.”
He looks away, jaw twitching. “It’s not about that.”
“No? Then what’s it about, Trouble? You got Sawyer. Why the sudden interest in Winnie?”
He rubs a hand across his face. “I just want what’s best for her. She’s… she’s a good girl, Danger.”
I laugh, sharp and humorless. “I know what she is. I’ve seen you treat her like a consolation prize since you were kids. Now you want to tell me what’s good for her?”
“So, don’t do what I did to her.”
“That’s what you think I’m doing?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, maybe.
” He hesitates, then softens. “You’re not just a brother to me.
My whole damn life, you’ve looked out for me.
Fought my fights. Covered my ass. Protected me from that monster growing up.
I want you happy, Danger. Hell, I want you happy more than I want it for myself.
But you’ve said a thousand times you don’t trust women.
You don’t want anyone getting close to you after Rylee.
That tells me whatever that is isn’t good for either of you.
My bad if I don’t understand what it is. ”
I don’t usually feel shit, but I felt that deep in my chest. Not because he’s wrong—but because he’s not.
I don’t let women close. That’s a rule I made after Rylee. After I learned what it costs when you let someone close enough to leave a mark. Winnie wasn’t supposed to matter. She was supposed to be easy. Temporary. Fake.
Except she isn’t.
I’ve watched her with my kid, even when she was just around the ranch because of Trouble. Watched her stay good to Trouble even when he didn’t deserve it. I know what kind of woman she is, and that’s the problem. I have a soft spot when it comes to her, and I shouldn’t.
I don’t break things on purpose. It just happens with the life I live. I know that if Winnie was really mine, I’d break her too.
She deserves someone uncomplicated. And she’ll have that after this is over. After me.
“Just back off and trust me.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says, dead calm.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and we both hear it.
Trouble looks at me like he already knows something’s up. “Who is it?”
“Derrick,” I say, glancing at the screen. Our best man with the cattle.
I answer. “What’s up?”
On the other end: “Boss, we got a problem. You need to get to the ranch.”
My stomach drops. “Is it Fisher?”
“No. Him and PJ are good, at PJ’s place. We got eyes on ‘em. This is… different.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
“I’ll be right there.”
I end the call and pocket my phone. Trouble follows my gaze to Sawyer, waiting for him near the crowd dancing.
“She’s calling you,” I say.
He studies me. “We good?”
“Yeah. Go.”
He gives my shoulder a quick smack and takes off toward her.
I turn and go for my truck. The only thing that matters now is the ranch, and all the problems waiting for me there. I don’t see Winnie at first, but she finds me before I hit the parking lot.
“Danger!” she calls, jogging after me, hair bouncing. “Where are you going?”
I don’t slow down. “Home. Got a situation.”
“I’m coming with you,” she says, like it’s already decided.
I stop so fast she almost walks straight into my back. I turn, crowding her space. “No, you’re not. I don’t know what I’m walking into.”
She plants her hands on her hips, chin tipped up. “So, you’re saying you wouldn’t protect me?”
I swallow the words I want to say—I will always protect you, look out for you, and I’d never let anything happen to you… but that’s not the point. Instead I say, “I need my head clear. I can’t do that if I’m worrying about you.”
Her gorgeous eyes lift to mine, calm as sin. “Then don’t worry.”
“Not an option.”
She steps closer, close enough I can smell sugar on her skin. “I’m coming anyway. Don’t make me chase you in that car of mine—the one you complain about every time I get in it.”
I snort despite myself. “Go ahead. You’d get there tomorrow.”
“Danger. I’m serious.”
I hold her stare, waiting for her to blink.
She doesn’t.
Those damn baby blues soften just enough to be dangerous. Steady. Trusting.
And that’s what breaks me.
I rub my jaw. “You’re unbelievable.”
Her smile is small and victorious. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I open the passenger door. “Get in the truck, Winnie.”
She climbs in like she knew she would all along.
I shut the door behind her, circle to my side, and climb in.
Once we’re rolling down the blacktop, I side eye her. “If I tell you to stay in the truck, you need to listen. If I tell you to drive away, I need you to listen. No hesitating, got it?”
She nods.
I push the gas, and we fly down the road, headlights cutting through the dark. I don’t talk, and neither does she. Just the radio, and the engine.
By the time we get to the ranch, there’s already three trucks pulled up, headlights splashing across the cattle pens. I can hear the herd, frantic and scattered. Someone’s cursing near the fence line.
I cut the engine. “Stay in the truck.”
She listens.
I scan the scene: two ranch hands at the gate, one up on the ridge with a flashlight. The fence is torn in two places, strands of barbed wire dangling, and a dozen steers are already meandering toward the creek.
“Anyone else on the property?” I yell out.
“Not anymore,” one of the hands yells back.
I come around to Winnie’s side and open her door before she can reach for the handle. I offer her my hand. “You’re good,” I say.
I walk to the broken fence. Winnie’s right on my heels, silent but there.
Derrick’s waiting at the split. “Kennedy’s,” he says, shaking his head. “When I got here they yelled somethin’ about knowin’ who this belongs to. Dropped it. Then they tore off.”
He nudges something forward with the toe of his boot.
A cowboy hat is in the dirt between us, brim scuffed, crown creased.
The fence behind him hangs open, wire snapped clean. Beyond it, cattle drift toward the dark, all spread out.
I don’t pick it up. I don’t need to. I know exactly whose hat that is.
“Get the boys to round them up. Start with the river side. Winnie, stay close.”
I start barking orders—who’s to the north, who’s on fence duty.
Once everyone scatters to their jobs, I head back toward the truck, but Winnie cuts me off, puts both hands on my chest and plants her feet. “Where are you going now?”
I arch a brow. “To kill a Kennedy. You don’t want to be there for that.”
She squares her shoulders. “Danger, stop.”
I do. I don’t know why, but I do. Her eyes don’t flinch. Don’t soften. They hold me steady like she’s not afraid of what she sees. Like she understands it.
“I see you,” she says quietly. “I see how much you carry for everyone else. You let your brothers enjoy their night. You make the calls. You take the hits. You shoulder it all because you think you’re the only one who can.”
“Someone has to.”
“No.” She shakes her head, fierce now. “You don’t right now.”
I feel it then—the pressure in my chest, the burn in my hands, the instinct screaming to move, to end this the way I always do.
“Give me one hour. If after that you still want to go after the Kennedy’s, I won’t stop you.” She steps closer. “But right now—be here. With me.”
I look at her. Really look. At the woman standing in front of a man she knows is dangerous, asking him to hold back anyway.
I’ve never stopped for anyone.
My jaw tightens. “One hour,” I say, rough as gravel.
Her smile breaks through like sunrise after a long night, and she reaches for me like she already knew the answer. Tugs me toward the calm, toward the horses.
And for the first time in my life, I let myself be led.