Chapter 22 #3
He buries his face in my neck, brushing the edge of his lips against my skin, breathing me in like he needs it.
“Maybe she’s already in the barn,” he calls back. “Working with Iris or something.”
I can hear the smirk in his voice. Feel it in the way his thumb strokes my stomach.
I bite my lip to hold in a laugh as I roll to face him.
He sweeps his thumb across my lips, whispering a playful shhh.
Then he leans in, mouth soft against mine.
A slow, deliberate, dragging kind of hunger presses into me.
I kiss him back, tasting him, feeling him, craving more even with his brother right outside the door.
Footsteps creak and the murmur of voices filters down the hallway—Emmett and Lydia bickering as they head downstairs.
Once we know the coast is clear, I slip out of Wesley’s room and into mine, quickly pulling on a pair of leggings and throwing my hair into a messy ponytail. The smell of bacon and fresh coffee wafts up the stairs, warm and homey.
As I pass through the dining room into the kitchen, I lift my chin and force my shoulders to loosen.
This is just a normal, regular Saturday morning.
I smooth my face into what I hope passes for casual indifference—something that doesn’t scream I woke up in your son’s bed.
Wesley’s leaning against the counter next to the coffeepot, sipping from his thermos. The second I walk in, his eyes lock on me.
I pretend not to notice, reaching for my favorite teal mug off one of the hooks and ignoring the tremble in my hands as I pour my coffee.
Before I can grab the creamer, he’s already holding it out for me—silent and attentive. My eyes lift to his and the whole room falls away. Our fingers brush as I take it from him and electricity spikes through my veins.
“Thanks,” I breathe, too aware of him. I swallow, willing myself to fucking act normal.
The clink of silverware and voices blurs into background static. All I feel is Wesley’s gaze tracking me—every step, every breath—as I move around the kitchen.
When I pass behind him, my shoulder brushes his arm. My breath catches, and for half a second, I swear he leans into it.
This is all we have—stolen moments carved out in plain sight.
It’s unbearable. And perfect. And not nearly enough.
The table is feet away with a perfect view into the kitchen. Every move we make feels watched. Dangerous.
I glance into the dining room. Heath is at the table, studying the newspaper in his hand.
Emmett’s nursing a mug of coffee, looking like last night got the best of him.
Lydia hums softly to herself as she chews a piece of bacon, while Landon is standing at the kitchen island, biting into a fresh peach.
The spoon clinks against the mug as I stir in the creamer, and my eyes find Wesley’s again. Laughter from the table pulls my attention away from him, but I know his eyes never leave me.
No one else seems to notice the weight of my emotions. How I desperately want to tilt my chin up and kiss him until the world stops spinning.
The moment fractures as a wet, obnoxious slurp echoes across the kitchen, peach juice dripping down Landon’s wrist as he licks it away.
Wesley shoots him a glare but Landon grins, holding his hands up in a show of innocence.
“Crazy coincidence, huh?” Landon smirks. “Sadie wasn’t in her room this morning. Wes’s door was locked … So weird.”
“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole,” Wesley mutters under his breath.
Landon chuckles, tossing the peach pit in the garbage. “Alright, alright, I’m done. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
He backs toward the door, still grinning, like pissing off his best friend was his only goal.
When he’s gone, Wesley leans a little closer, his voice low. “Did you mean it?”
Stalling, I bring my mug to my lips, taking a slow sip. “What?”
“What you said last night … about proving it.”
The noise fades and my fingers tighten around my mug.
“Yeah,” I murmur, feeling heat crawl along my spine. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
He nods once, controlled, eyes flicking over to the table before looking back at me. “Okay.”
It’s not everything.
But it’s more than I expected.
And it feels like the start of something more. Something real.
The summer heat is brutal as I walk along the path to the barn. I’m almost halfway there when Heath pulls up alongside me in his truck.
“Morning,” he calls. “You mind being an extra set of hands over at the training pen?”
“Don’t mind at all. I’d never pass up an opportunity to get out of shoveling horse shit. Respectfully.”
“Great.” He laughs, giving a quick wave as he drives off.
I head in that direction, fussing with loose hairs that have fallen out of my bun behind my ears.
The training pens are tucked just beyond the barn—wide, round enclosures flanked by metal rails and layered in churned-up dirt.
Like a magnet, my eyes find Wesley the moment I round the corner.
He’s inside a pen, moving slowly, his shoulders tense.
All his focus is locked on the horse trotting just a few feet away.
Outlaw’s muscles ripple beneath his dark coat, wild and beautiful and mean as hell.
He tosses his head, flaring his nostrils and kicking at the dirt, daring Wesley to come closer.
He doesn’t even flinch, taking one step forward like he’s moving through water. There’s something hypnotic about it—the way he reads the horse’s body, how he knows when to push and when to back off.
It’s a turn-on, watching him work. The focused set of his jaw. The way his voice evens out, steady and low. The quiet authority in every movement.
He’s calm. In control. Completely in his element.
And something in me aches, wondering what it would feel like to be the thing he’s focused on—what that control would feel like when it’s turned toward me.
I’m so caught up watching him, I hadn’t even noticed Landon leaning against the rail a few feet away with a saddle blanket draped over his arm.
His smile is bright and easy, dimples on full display. “You must be my extra set of hands.”
“That’s me,” I say, returning a grin. “I didn’t know you did training.”
“I don’t train the horses. I teach riding lessons to the kids during the summer programs.”
“Aw, that’s actually really cute. I’m sure girls love that.”
He smirks. “It doesn’t hurt.”
I glance back toward the pen. Wesley’s still working, moving in a slow circle as the horse tracks him, wary but attentive. Outlaw finally slows, ears flicking forward. Wesley shifts his stance, coaxing him into stillness without saying a word.
Landon nudges my arm gently with his elbow. “You good to help set up the jumps in the next pen over?”
“Hm? Oh, right. Yes, whatever I can do to help,” I say, still half-distracted.
As I move to follow him, Wesley glances up—just for a second—and our eyes meet. He briefly looks at Landon and his jaw ticks.
Every flutter of the butterfly wings in my stomach tells me I’m in way too deep to turn back now.
Landon leads the way into the pen and Wesley’s jealousy pulses at my back like a second sun.
By the time we’re done setting the last jump, my shirt is plastered to my skin. Landon wipes sweat from his brow and gives me a nod.
“Appreciate you helping me out. You did great today,” he says, dropping beside me against the fence post.
“It took me all day to do half a day’s work.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Imagine how much longer it would’ve taken me without your help.” He kicks out both feet, crossing them at the ankles. “Are you going to stick around when summer’s over?”
I shake my head. “I’m enrolled for the fall semester.”
Even saying it out loud, it doesn’t feel real. That I’ll have to leave.
He hesitates, picking at a weed. “I’ve never seen a girl be able to distract Wes as much as you do.”
I scoff but he holds a hand up. “I’m not stupid, Sadie. But even if I was, it’s painfully obvious.”
He’s not saying anything I don’t already know. Yet I can’t help but feel guilty for being a distraction. A nuisance.
I felt Wesley’s stare all day, scorching against my skin. But it’s against the rules, so I play dumb—like the silly Cali girl they all think I am.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, but I also don’t think Wesley cares enough to let anyone distract him.”
He raises his eyebrows, clearly not buying my bullshit. I don’t blame him. I’m really regretting not taking Mia more seriously when she asked me to do acting exercises with her.
“Look, Landon, it’s really not—”
“Hey, Princess.” Wesley’s deep voice cuts me off.
My heart stutters as he swings over the fence, shirt long gone, golden skin slick with sweat and catching the last fire of the sun. It’s unfair how effortlessly good-looking he is.
He settles down next to me, sighing deeply as he drops his head back against the fence boards.
I don’t know what I was thinking. Clearly, I’ve lost my fucking mind. How am I supposed to act like nothing is happening between us?
“Hi, Wes,” Landon says in a sarcastic tone. “I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” He shifts onto his feet, brushing the dirt off his jeans.
“You are on my shit list today,” Wesley says, pointing his finger at Landon. He rolls his eyes, winking at me before heading back down the path to the lodge—leaving me completely alone with Wesley.
I don’t know what to say.
I don’t know how to be casual, and if he sees me spiraling, he’ll probably want to call the whole thing off. I wish I could talk to Lydia about it, but I know she will just say she was right all along and it was only a matter of time or something.
I shift, crossing and uncrossing my legs and wanting to punch myself in the face for not being able to act like a normal human being.
“You know, usually when someone says ‘hey,’ the polite thing to do is say it back,” he says with a smirk. “Just for future reference.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I deadpan. “I’ll be sure to implement that next time.”
He lets out a deep, warm laugh, and against my better judgment, I finally glance over. His amber eyes are already waiting for me.
Shit.