Chapter 23 #2
For the first time since deciding to bring her out here, my anxiety spikes. I’m not used to being vulnerable and opening up to people. I don’t do relationships and I keep my guard up. It’s for the best.
Nobody gets hurt if they know what to expect.
But here I am. Leading her directly to my heart.
Breaking every fucking rule—for her.
She steps forward, then freezes, breath catching when she finally sees it.
A simple A-frame-style build, like the cabins we rent out to guests—but with some enhancements.
It has natural stone on the first level, and instead of the traditional log-cabin style in the original plans, I used cedar wood siding.
The large, black double-pane windows were a bitch to put in, but thankfully Landon is a good friend and knows how to keep a secret.
Only him and my dad know about this project.
I feel bad keeping it from Emmett, but I know he would feel pressured to do the same thing and settle here—and he wants more.
“It’s mine,” I say quietly. “I’ve been spending all my free time out here building. It’s nothing grand, but…it’s mine.”
Seconds tick by like hours and she still isn’t saying anything. I swallow nervously, shoving my hands into my pockets to hide the slight tremble.
“Well…what do you think?” I manage, keeping my voice steady despite feeling everything but.
Her eyes snap to me. So wide. So green. “Wesley…you built a house.”
Every time she says my name, it sinks straight into my chest, like she’s carving herself deeper into me.
I clear my throat. “I built a house.”
Saying the words out loud is a relief I wasn’t expecting. The weight that’s been pressing on my shoulders and chest slowly dissipates.
“It’s beautiful,” she says softly, looking back at the house. My house. “Why do you stay at the main house if you have all of this to yourself?”
“Well, it’s not finished yet.” I sniff, pulling off my hat and running my hands through my grown-out hair.
I’ve never let it get this long, especially in the summer.
“The inside is still a mess. Floors still need to be put in. Doors need to be installed. Light fixtures. Painting. I have cabinets, but no countertops. It’s a big job, and I’ve been learning as I go. ”
“I’m very impressed.” Her smile beams.
I shrug, trying to play it off like hearing her say that is nothing. “I’ll let you be the first to see it when I’m finished.”
Her grin falls and she folds her lips between her teeth, dropping her gaze to the ground. I close my eyes, realizing I’m a complete fucking idiot and there’s no way I’ll be finished by the end of summer. She’ll be long gone by the time I’m done.
“I’m an idiot. Just forget I—”
“I’d like that,” she says, interrupting me. “Seeing it all finished. Whenever you’re done.”
Fuck. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I can’t help the tingle of excitement I feel at the possibility of Sadie coming back. For me.
“You’ll be the first to know,” I murmur.
Her brows pull together in confusion. “Nobody else knows about this?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, Landon does, but that’s only because he helps me out here and there.” I pause. “And obviously my dad, but he only sold me the land and helped me with the permits. He hasn’t been out to see it yet. I haven’t told anyone else or brought anyone out here.”
“Except me,” she adds, a smile spreading across her lips again. Lips that were wrapped around me in the sweetest way less than an hour ago.
“Except you.”
She hums, folding her arms tightly across her chest to suppress a shiver.
“You cold?”
“I’m fine.”
Tipping my head to the side, I extend my arm for her to take the lead. “Come on. Let’s head back.”
She exhales, shoulders sinking, but doesn’t argue. We start back toward my truck and my hand finds the small of her back like it belongs there. The simple contact steadies me. It feels so normal, so right. It kills me having to pretend it’s nothing when everyone else is around.
When we get back to the truck, Sadie rounds the hood and starts to open the passenger door, but I intercept, using my entire body to push the door shut.
“What are you d—”
“I have a better idea,” I say, pushing off the truck and circling to the back.
She meets me as I lower the tailgate. My hands curve over her hips, lifting her gently and setting her on the edge. I quickly start up the engine, connect my phone to the Bluetooth, and then settle beside her.
An old Brooks & Dunn song plays through the speakers and I toss my phone to the side, leaning back to pull two beers from the cooler I packed before coming out here. I twist off the cap and hand one to her.
She tries to hide her smirk, shaking her head as she accepts it. She clinks her bottle against mine before taking a long drink.
“Aren’t you just full of surprises?”
If only she knew the half of it.
“Are you still cold?”
She nods. “A little.”
Reaching behind us, I grab one of the blankets that are neatly folded and stacked next to the cooler and wrap it around her shoulders.
“Thanks.”
“Do you want to play your music?”
“Oh.” She blinks. “Um, yeah. Sure.”
She takes a few minutes to pick a song. It’s quiet, other than the chirping crickets, for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before “Colorblind” by Counting Crows starts to play softly in the background.
We both take another drink at the same time, not so subtly peeking at each other before she lets out a little giggle. I inhale a deep breath, trying to get a handle on my out-of-control emotions.
“Can I ask you something?”
She has both hands wrapped around her beer bottle as her thumb absentmindedly picks at the label.
“Sure,” I say, releasing a breath.
“Why do you call me Princess?”
Shit.
The lip of the bottle hovers above my mouth. I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting her to ask that. I thought maybe she’d ask why I never told my brother I’m building a house out here, or why my dad made the no-relationship rule.
I sigh, rubbing my sweaty hand on my pants. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“I won’t.”
A look of disbelief spreads across my face before I can stop it. She holds my eyes, and for some reason, I feel like I can tell her anything. Maybe even everything—but this is a good start.
“My mom.”
She squints, trying to piece it together. “Your mom?”
I nod. “My mom and I would always watch this movie when I was younger. It was her favorite, and I loved how much she loved it.” I pause, glancing over at Sadie, who’s giving me her full, undivided attention.
“One time when we were watching it, she told me that she got the inspiration for my name from the movie—I’m actually named after one of the characters.
” I shake my head. “But she was worried I wouldn’t have my own identity if it was the exact same, so she took out a letter.
Instead of Westley, she picked Wesley. No T. ”
Sadie smiles, soft. “That’s…really sweet. You were a total mama’s boy, huh?”
“Maybe.” My mouth quirks. “Anyway, in the movie, Westley does everything for this girl and he never gives up. Fighting for her. Rescuing her. Loving her…despite everything…”
“Let me guess,” she says, pursing her lips. “She’s a princess.”
“Eventually…yes,” I say, biting back a smile.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving that you’re sharing this with me, but I still don’t understand why you call me Princess.”
Here it goes.
“My mom always said that one day, I’d meet the person who would change everything. Turn my world upside down. Make colors seem brighter. That everything would make sense, and I would just know.” I pause to take a slow drink. “She always romanticized everything.”
Anticipation coils tight in my chest, waiting for her reaction—but she only stares up at me, silent, unblinking.
Regret creeps up my throat and I wish I’d lied. I wish I’d made something up. Spun a dumb story about how she seemed like a royal bitch when she got here, so I came up with a stupid little nickname that was completely meaningless.
But instead, the truth poured out, and I shared a piece of myself with her in a way I never have with anyone—because she is that person for me.
“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Her soft voice breaks through my mental spiral.
Then, in a flash, her mouth is on mine.
The kiss steals my breath and instinct takes over—my hands cup her jaw, dragging her closer.
She deepens it, kissing back harder, more desperate, her tongue sliding against mine.
I could live in this moment forever and still crave more.
I’m fucked. So fucking fucked.
Every atom of my being screams at me to stop, to pull back, to put distance between us before I ruin us both.
But desire steamrolls reason, and suddenly she’s straddling my lap, her chest pressed against mine.
She grinds into me in a way that sends lightning ripping through every vein in my body, and my grip on the curve of her waist tightens.
She tastes like wild impulsivity and heaven and everything I’ve tried to deny myself.
Her hands slide down my chest, nails grazing, pressing just enough to leave trails of fire in their wake, and when her fingers fumble with my belt, I nearly lose it. Heat rushes low, pulsing through me until I can hardly breathe.
“Are you still cold?” I choke out, tugging at the neckline of her sweater, desperate for a tether.
She shakes her head slowly, eyes dark, cheeks flushed. “The opposite, actually.”
A rough sound rips from my chest before I can swallow it. I tear the sweater over her head and toss it aside, unable to bear a layer between us any longer. My hands find her like they’ve been waiting years—palms sliding along her waist, thumbs tracing the soft dip of her stomach.
She shivers beneath my touch. I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in, forcing myself to hold still even as every part of me is screaming to take more.
“Is this okay?” The words come out raspy and raw.
Her answer is a trail of kisses down my jaw, her teeth scraping against my skin as she breathes, “Please don’t stop touching me.”