Chapter 7 Coco
COCO
The others head out with tired goodbyes, and for a moment the night is quiet except for the wind ruffling through tree branches. I should go. It’s the smart thing to do—get into the Jeep, shut the door, and drive home.
But I’m rooted where I stand, beside the man who takes up way too much space in my head.
He’s nothing like men I’ve dated, full of empty promises tucked behind eager smiles and fast talk.
Beau’s quiet, deliberate, a man who does what he says he’ll do.
And handsome, which is the real kicker. He makes me forget the lessons I’ve learned the hard way—men lie, cheat, and break hearts.
I know how this goes. Tis the season commitment-phobe men fear most. Christmas to Valentine’s Day.
Small-town gossip spreads faster than wildfire, and all of a sudden, they get cold feet.
Because heaven forbid women are tired of being treated like play things.
Committing to just one would be too much pressure.
But so what? There isn’t a law against having fun. It’s okay to see where flirtation goes. Beau can only hurt me if I let him into my heart.
And that won’t happen.
I slip my hand through the crook of his arm, lean in, and let myself trust him.
“Promise you won’t regret this,” Beau says as if reading my mind. He tucks his hand over mine, and his sexy, dimpled smile nearly undoes me.
But the closer we get to Duke’s stall, the more my stomach flutters.
Standing next to twelve hundred pounds of muscle makes me shrink back.
I relive the accident that ripped the flesh from my leg and ass, leaving me bruised and broken emotionally and physically.
All because I trusted a sweet talking man in a cowboy hat who didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything other than taking me for a ride.
History repeats itself until lessons are learned. But maybe I’ve been learning the wrong ones. Maybe fear’s been keeping me from something better. Maybe I’ve been a fool for listening to the voice in my head.
“Relax,” Beau murmurs beside me, his voice a low rumble. “He’s just sayin’ hi.”
“Tell him I said hi back,” I say, forcing a shaky laugh.
Beau chuckles, stepping closer. His laugh slides down my spine like warm honey. “You can do this, darlin’. Duke’s a gentleman.”
I side-eye the horse. He is beautiful. A rich chestnut coat that gleams in the dim barn light, long lashes framing curious brown eyes. He looks harmless enough if I ignore his height and powerful muscles. I wish I could shake my fear, though it keeps me rooted in place.
Beau plucks an apple from the box I brought. “Here.”
I take a deep breath and grab the apple with trembling fingers. As soon as I step closer to Duke, he exhales a snort that ruffles my hair. My pulse sky rockets.
“Nope.” I shake my head and shove the apple at Beau. “Not happening.”
“Guess we’ll just stand here all night then,” Beau says, a grin tugging at his mouth. His eyes glint with amusement. “I promise you can do this.”
Beau slides one hand across my lower back, and steps close enough I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek.
He takes my hand gently, and my pulse does a funny, traitorous flutter.
And I like the way it feels with his skin against mine—warm, rough, callused from work—and I can’t stop staring as he curls our fingers around the apple.
“Easy,” he murmurs. His chest brushes my back, a solid wall I could easily melt into. “Just hold still.”
His breath fans across the side of my neck, and my brain short-circuits. Every nerve lights up, my skin tingles, and my pulse races, tap dancing against my ribs. Duke lowers his head, sniffs my hand, then lips the apple right from my palm and bites into it.
I laugh, startled and breathless. “He took it.”
“Told ya.”
Beau’s voice vibrates through me, smooth as warm caramel and chocolate. His hands hover at my waist and a flood of relief and want settling into my bones.
“A gentleman,” he says, his breath tickling the shell of my ear.
My neck relaxes and I lean into him. I reach around and run my fingers through his hair.
His hand slips across my tummy. I tilt my head before I think better of it, and his face is too close, too warm, too much.
The air between us crackles, and I swear he feels it too because he stills, eyes locked on mine.
“Beau,” I whisper. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Do you trust me, Coco?” His lips ghost over my cheek, and my breath catches.
I should step away. Remember all the reasons this is a bad idea. But I’m tired of playing it safe. Tired of holding back. All I can think about is the way he smells, how he’ll taste.
I do trust him.
He slips off my beanie, and brushes a lock of hair from my face, his fingers grazing my temple. “You’re wearin’ the décor,” he says, plucking hay from my curls.
“Maybe I’m feeling—festive.” My breathing slows as if all the air’s been sucked out of the room.
“You do festive real fine.” He leans closer, sliding his knuckles over my cheek.
“Are you going to flirt, or kiss me?” My voice trembles, barely above a whisper.
He hesitates for a heartbeat, then his thumb traces the edge of my lip. “Tell me to stop. I promise I will if you say the word.”
But I don’t.
I rise on my toes, closing the small gap between us. Our lips brush once—tentative, testing. The kiss is soft, but the moment I sigh against him, it deepens. My nerves jump, skip, and scatter in every direction. My skin tingles, alive everywhere his hands touch. Every doubt I have unravels.
Beau makes a low, deep sound that vibrates through me. His fingers curl possessively into my body, pulling me closer until there’s no space left to hide. He tilts his head, turning me in his arms. Heat blooms low in my belly as he coaxes my lips open with the tip of his tongue.
I clutch his shirt, feeling the flex of muscles beneath the fabric, the solid weight of him against me. His hand slides up my back, fingers splaying at the nape of my neck, anchoring me to him.
It’s sweet and dizzying. Everything my body craves.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless. The air between us hums, charged and fragile. He rests his forehead against mine, our breath mingling hot and ragged, and the faintest smile curves his lips.
“Coco,” he whispers, like my name is the only thing keeping him grounded.
Keeping me grounded. Because nothing about this feels like a fling, and that’s where the danger lies.