Chapter Two
Wade
I’ve known that something is off for a while now.
It’s not that Sara’s ever talked about her relationship with Pete.
If anything, she avoids the topic altogether.
It’s the way she answers questions that tells the story, the way she responds to my suggestions, the way she responds to my comfort.
It’s as though she’s hungry for calm, starved for reassurance, craving genuine touch.
I stare toward her, blonde hair resting on her shoulders, blue eyes still red from tears, round breasts tightly bound in the sweater dress she’s wearing.
My palms itch to pull her in close and make whatever shit’s running through her mind go away.
It’s not a feeling I commonly have, so it throws me off for a minute, forcing me to stay lost in the moment.
“I reckon you should finish that breakfast. A full stomach can help a lot of things.” I land my hand on her shoulder then pull it away quickly. As much as I wish she were, she’s not mine to protect. She can’t be.
Standing to get away from temptation, I grab the broom she was reaching for and begin sweeping.
“No, please. It’s my job to do this. I—”
“You’re eating your breakfast. Sit.” I glance back toward her, my gaze focused, my tone deeper than necessary. This isn’t about control. It’s about care. I want to help her, and I want her to let me.
Friends care about friends. I’m pretty sure I’m not crossing any lines with that, at least that’s what I tell myself.
She reaches toward the broom again. “And you’re supposed to be at work in ten minutes.”
“I will be,” I say, sweeping what I’ve gathered into the electric dustpan against the wall, “but first we’re going to get you set up for the day. What else needs to be done?”
“Nothing,” she glances down, then up again, “I’m completely fine. I don’t have another client until nine, so I’m going to eat this nice breakfast you brought for me and read some of my book.”
I look toward her, trying not to notice the way her mascara has streaked down her cheek again. Whatever the fuck is going on at home, she doesn’t deserve it. “What are you reading?”
“You’d laugh me out of here.”
I offer a faint grin. “I gather it’s one of those girl books then?”
She nods and flashes the cover where some long-haired man with abs holds a woman in a western dress. “Historical westerns. I love the whole no-technology thing. Sometimes I think I was meant for that time instead of this one.”
“What about it sounds so intriguing? I can guarantee you cowboys didn’t look like this in any part of history.”
That gets me a smile. “That’s probably true, but it’s less about the guy and more about the lifestyle. There’s something so simple sounding about a life on a few acres in the middle of nowhere with a big garden, a load of animals, love, and zero technology.”
“So it’s not about the abs and the hair?”
She narrows her brows playfully. “I mean… they don’t hurt, but a lot of it is about love and lifestyle.”
“You could have that now, couldn’t you? A little place out in the woods with Pete.” Even saying his name makes me sick.
“I guess.” She shrugs. “I just have to convince Pete that life in the country is better than apartment living. He really likes not having to mow a lawn.”
My brows narrow instinctively. I never thought of yard work as work before, always thought of it as breathing room, but I guess everyone has different views. “Town’s got its charms too, I guess. Never far from the bakery, for one.”
“You’re going to be late,” she says, her lips curved up into a half smile.
I don’t bother glancing at the time. “I know. I’m worried about you, though. You going to be okay?”
“For sure. Thank you for caring. You made my day a lot better.” She glances toward the croissant. “I mean, call me simple, but caffeine and carbs are kind of my diamonds.” She laughs sweetly, then reaches toward me for a hug.
Folks hug folks around here. It’s not out of the norm. Folks also bring folks coffee and pastries when they’re asking for a favor, like I did this morning. None of these things are out of the ordinary. So, I lean in and wrap my arms around her curved frame, holding her close against my chest.
It was all normal until this… right here. The part where I breathe her in. The part where I smell the strawberries in her hair and want more. The part where I want to bend her over and feel every inch of her inside and out.
Fuck.
When the hug has clearly lingered far too long, I let go and step back slowly. “I guess I’ll see you in a couple weeks then.”
“See you then.” She grins and takes a sip of coffee. “Oh, and today's cut is on me. Sorry about all the drama.”
“Don’t apologize.” I nod once on the way out, tucking cash next to the register before opening the front door. “I’ll see you later.”
I’m not the kind of guy that sits around with ‘what ifs.’ If I want something, I take it, but clearly, this is different. Sara belongs to someone else. Her thoughts, her heart, her well-being are someone else’s to care for.
Not mine.
She’s made that choice, and she makes it every day.
I’m ruminating on the thought when Ryker, the oldest of the Wilder brothers, pulls up to the distillery.
Shit! He’s early for his walkthrough. I should’ve banked on that. The man has been early for every meeting we’ve ever had.
“Mr. Wilder,” I jog across the street and reach out my hand to greet the guy who hopefully hasn’t been waiting long, “how was your ride in?”
He nods once and glances back toward his truck that’s parked against the snowy curb. “I’ll be glad when the snow melts and I can get back on the bike again.”
The wind blows sideways, reminding me that the sun is not an indicator of better weather, but rather a tease.
“You and me both. If you’re ever looking for good roads to ride up here, I’m your guy. Then again, the view you’ve got at the old mill is pretty impressive with the wild horses and all.”
“I got my stuff moved in late last night. Can’t wait to get settled in.” He nods toward the building. “How are the finishing touches going?”
I open the front door and follow him inside, where the thud of the nail gun echoes. The guys are putting some last-minute moldings in place. “Great. We should be done this afternoon, and the place is all yours. You ready to hit the ground running?”
“First delivery is set for tomorrow morning. My brother’s taking care of that so I can ride in this rodeo tomorrow night. Fingers crossed I take the prize. The jackpot is huge.”
“If I remember correctly, you took the prize out in Montana, right? Sure you’ll do well out here too.” I nod and cross my arms over my chest. “The arena is full, so people are excited to watch. I know a lot of folks in town are making the trip up.”
“It’s good to see local support. I was worried the distillery would cause some friction in town. I know how hard it is to get small-town folks invested in something new.” He scrubs his hand down over his beard. “You coming out to the show?”
I nod. “I’m still looking for tickets for a few friends, but I’ll be there.”
He leans up against the back counter and readjusts his hat. “How many do you need?”
I want to tell him two. One for Sara and one for Jasper. If Pete doesn’t like rodeos, he can stay home.
“Three.” I clear my throat. “I’ve got a friend whose son is really into cowboys right now. His birthday is coming up, so I was hoping to surprise her.”
“Don’t worry about it, man. I’ve got you covered. You did an amazing job on this place. It’s the least I can do.” He stands taller and kicks the heel of his boot against the pine wood floor as he grins. “This friend sounds special.”
I glance down at my boots, then up again. “Yup, but she’s just a friend.”
He bites back a grin. “A girl that’s just a friend is never really just a friend.” He laughs under his breath and slaps me on the back as he walks past. “I know that game all too well, man.”
“Yeah, well… this friend is engaged so I’m pretty sure friends is all we’ll ever be.” I swallow hard and try redirecting his attention to the distillery room, but he’s heading back toward the front door.
“The lies we tell ourselves.” He sucks in a quick breath. “Is she happy with this guy?”
“Happy don’t matter. She’s with him, so end of story.”
He nods once as though he’s reading the subtext of everything I’m saying. “So she’s not happy and you want to fix it for her, don’t you?”
I’ve gotten to know Ryker fairly well over the year we’ve been building the distillery, but I’m not sure we’re on ball-busting terms yet.
“Like I said, she’s with this other guy. They’re engaged. I’ve gotta respect it.”
“Whatever you say, man.” He glances around the room. “From what I can see, everything looks good, but one of my brothers will be by later for a final walkthrough. I’ve gotta get up to the arena and meet some folks, but thanks for letting me in.”
I nod once as he heads back out into the cold, but my mind is stuck on the conversation we just had, mostly because he said everything I’m trying not to admit to myself.
I’m not this asshole. I’m not the guy who thinks about taking another man’s woman. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of everything I stand for, but there’s something about Sara that makes my chest ache and my palms itch, like if I don’t touch her, kiss her, hold her… I’ll explode.
Seriously though, who am I kidding? What grown fucking man thinks like that about another man’s woman? Me. What good man jerks off every night to thoughts of another man’s fiancé? Me. What kind of dude imagines the scent of another man’s girl on his face? Me.
The whole thing is fucking sick, and I don’t feel good about it. Trouble is, I don’t know how to make the urges stop.
I tilt my head to the side in thought. I could find someone else to cut my hair, but it’s hard to find someone who does it right, and Sara does everything exactly how I like it. That’s more important than people give credit.
I swallow hard, grab a rag out of the toolbox, and run it along the edge of the counter where dust has settled on the wood.
I have a list of things to get done this morning that don’t involve playing out sexual scenarios with Sara in my head, but for some reason my brain is more interested in thinking about how good she’d taste over the color stain I need to grab to finish up the rafters.
What the fuck am I doing?
I can’t have a thing for Sara. I can’t! She’s only a few years older than my daughter, she’s engaged to be married, and she’s got a whole life she’s trying to figure out. The last thing she needs is me and my asshole feelings interjecting another complication.
Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be a complication. Maybe it would be a relief. Maybe she’s feeling the same damn way, and I’d be saving her from a life with someone she clearly doesn’t belong with.
Keep dreaming, pal.
I toss the rag into the trash near the window and head back out into the cold and toward the hardware store a few shops down. Cold air is exactly what I need. It’ll snap me out of this bullshit and toss me back into reality where I belong.
Sara cuts my hair. That’s all this is. A friendly exchange. A barter. Her silky hair, her full round breasts, thick ass, and the way we connect is irrelevant. Whatever is or is not happening between her and Pete is none of my fucking business.
I drag in a breath, letting the freshness circulate through my lungs as I try to stop this runaway train from leaving the station.
It’s no use. The train is going faster, and before I’ve made it to the hardware store, my mind has jumped the tracks.
The only way for me to be sure she’s okay is to drive by her place a few times tonight and check. At this point, it’s my only option.