Chapter Sixteen
The first light of dawn bleeds through the curtains when I wake.
My head’s heavy, my body sore in all the right ways, and the faint smell of her shampoo lingers on my sheets. For a second, I think I’m dreaming, until I hear the soft rustle of fabric.
Charli’s sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on her boots.
Her hair’s a tangled mess, and the T-shirt she wore last night is wrinkled, hanging off one shoulder. She’s quiet as she focuses on her task.
I prop myself up on one elbow and watch her for a moment.
“Hey,” I murmur, voice rough from sleep. “You sneaking out on me, Chuck?”
She doesn’t look back. Just tugs on her second boot and stands. “Want to get back to the house before anyone wakes up.”
I glance at the alarm clock sitting on the table beside my bed. “No one will be up anytime soon,” I say and reach for her hand, pulling her gently back toward me.
Her sigh is half exasperation, half something else as her ass hits the mattress. I brush my lips against her shoulder, just above the soft curve of her neck. Her skin’s still warm.
For a heartbeat, she leans back into me. Then she straightens, pulling away.
“All hands are needed on deck today,” she says briskly. “Matty’s surprise party is tonight. Shelby and I are helping Grandma Evelyn and Imma Jean get things ready, so you’re on chore duty with Cabe.”
And just like that, the switch flips.
Boss mode.
I can’t help but smile. “Yes, ma’am,” I say as I plop back against the headboard and watch her.
That earns me a look over her shoulder. Her eyes narrow, but there’s the tiniest flicker of amusement there.
“I mean it,” she warns. “Don’t be late. And don’t mention last night.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She studies me for a beat, her eyes drifting down to where the sheet settles over my waist. Then she exhales and says, “Good. I’m glad we got that out of our system.”
Well, shit. That comment stings more than I’d have expected it to.
She stands, the hem of her tee brushing against the soft skin at the back of her thighs, and starts for the front door. I move quickly, throwing on a pair of sweatpants, and follow her, catching up just as she steps outside into the crisp morning air.
“Charli.”
She stops, glancing back. The rising sun paints her in gold, and for a second, I forget what I was going to say.
“Yeah?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Her lips curve, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Don’t be late today,” she says, and then she’s walking away—down the path toward the main house, boots crunching on gravel, her hair catching the light.
I watch until she’s out of sight.
The cabin’s quiet again, but this time, it feels different. The air still smells like her. The towel I was wearing when she ambushed me last night is on the floor, and my sheets are a mess. My pulse hasn’t quite settled.
I walk to the island and sink onto the edge of a stool. I drag a hand down my face and let out a low laugh.
“So, this is what it feels like,” I mutter to the empty room. “Being the one left in bed.”
It’s a strange mix—half amused, half annoyed, and something else I don’t want to name. Because I didn’t get a damn thing out of my system. If anything, I want her more now than before.
I grab the beer from last night, still sitting open on the counter, and take a long swallow. It’s warm and flat, but it does the job.
“Crazy woman,” I say under my breath, shaking my head. “If she thinks we’re done doing that, she’s got another thing coming.”
The morning rolls on, and after my second cold shower in the last six hours, I pull on a tee and jeans before heading out. The sun’s just peeking over the ridge, setting the valley aglow. Horses in the paddock lift their heads when I walk by, the cool morning air steaming from their nostrils.
Cabe’s already at the stables, leaning against a post with a coffee in hand. He smirks when he sees me.
“Good morning, superstar,” he sings. “Running a little late this morning, aren’t you?”
It’s seven. Which, after the night I had, is damn good if you ask me.
“Yep. Got any more of that?” I ask, gesturing toward his coffee.
He walks over to the door that leads to Matty’s office and comes back with a Styrofoam cup. Steam rising from its mouth.
“Here you go,” he says, handing me the steaming coffee. “Damn, dude. You look rough.”
“Thanks,” I grunt. “You’re no prize to look at either.”
“Uh-huh. Now you know what a morning after a night out with the Storm sisters feels like.”
“Hell?” I ask as I run a hand down the back of my neck.
“Exactly. Well, come on. Let’s get to it. Charli will have our asses if we don’t get this work done on time today.”
“Hand me a rake.”
He chuckles, passing me the handle. “Guess she has you jumping at her command too.”
He has no fucking idea.
I start on the stalls, grateful for the distraction. The rhythmic scrape of hay and the smell of horse settle me more than any shower ever could. Still, my mind drifts back—again and again—to last night.
And this morning.
To the way she said it meant nothing, like it was a warning. Like she was afraid I’d fall in love after one night inside of her or some stupid shit like that.
Like I’m some virgin school kid instead of a man who has had plenty of women warm his bed. Hell, too many, if you ask my management. But none of them ever left me feeling like this—off-balance, half angry and half wanting to pull them right back into bed just to prove a point.
Charli Storm is different in a way I can’t quite explain.
I tell myself to let it go. That she’s just another woman who made a bad call after too many drinks.
Great. Now I’m calling myself names.
But every time I close my eyes, I feel her again—her breath on my neck, the way she fit me like a glove and cried my name when she came.
And that’s the problem.
Because I want to hear her scream it again.
By the time noon rolls around, Cabe and I have finished the stalls, turned out the horses, and started hauling feed. Sweat drips down my back. I pause at the gate, leaning on the rail and staring toward the main house.
From here, I can just make out figures moving on the porch—Charli, Shelby, and what looks like Imma Jean arranging flowers on makeshift tables. Laughter floats on the wind, light and easy.
Her eyes drift to where I’m standing, and we lock gazes for a moment before she turns back to Imma Jean. And all I can think about is that look in her eyes last night—the one that said she wanted me just as bad as I wanted her—and how quick she was to bury it come sunrise.
Cabe comes up beside me and whistles low. “You keep looking at her like that, and she’s gonna notice.”
“Who says I’m looking?”
He grins. “You’ve been staring at the house all morning, superstar.”
I toss him a glare. “Let’s get back to work.”
He laughs and heads for the feed shed.
I stay where I am, arms resting on the fence rail, the wind carrying the faint sound of Charli’s voice.
“Got it out of our system,” I mutter. I shake my head, smirking to myself. “Not even close.”
The rest of the day passes in a blur of chores and preparation for Matty’s shindig. I help Cabe set up the corral lights, haul bales of hay for seating, and stack a huge burn pile with dry brush and chopped wood for tonight’s bonfire before stringing up a few of the banners for Evelyn.
Come late afternoon, the ranch hums with activity—music, laughter, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen.
But even when I’m surrounded by all of it, it’s damn near impossible to focus.
Every time I see her out of the corner of my eye, I feel a pull. Like gravity.
And I realize something I probably shouldn’t admit, even to myself.
I’ve had plenty of women chase me and plenty I’ve chased. But Charli Storm? She’s the first one who’s ever made me want to earn her.
Even if she swears she doesn’t want to be caught.
I finish up with Evelyn and head back to my cabin to get ready for the evening’s festivities, the lights of the main house glowing in the distance.
I stop on the porch, lean against the railing, glance toward the path she walked this morning, and shake my head.
Then I go get ready to face her again and I can’t fucking wait.