Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Griffin
F or the next twenty minutes, I act as the jovial tour guide. I point out the highlights of the ranch—the six cabins scattered across the acreage, each with its own theme, the variety of walking trails and gardens, and the pastureland that backs onto government-owned grounds.
I tell her about the horses that graze out back, the hot springs tucked beyond the northern trail, the orchard Geraldine insists on keeping despite the deer. Reese listens as if I’m giving her secrets instead of facts, eyes wide with quiet wonder.
Admittedly, I rush the tour. I have something far more important to show Reese.
I pull through the woods to the farthest cabin. It’s secluded and a bit on the remote side, but I love every square inch of it. This is my pet project.
I kill the engine and swing my leg off, steadying the machine. Reese fumbles with the strap under her chin, so I step in and unclip it, tugging the helmet free and setting it on the seat. Her hair tumbles loose, mussed from the ride.
I brush a stray lock from her cheek, my fingers grazing the soft skin at her neck. I should move my hand away, but I don’t. I just stand there, staring. Drinking her in.
Her brow furrows. “What? Helmet head, right? I couldn’t be cool if I tried.”
I stay quiet, my hand still at her nape.
Her lips part, nerves flashing in her eyes. “That bad?”
God, if only she knew.
I reach for her waist, lifting her down from the four-wheeler. She’s perfectly capable of getting off by herself, but I’ve got an ulterior motive. I want her in my arms again.
She fits too well, soft against my chest, her breath warming my skin as I lower her slower than necessary.
My fingers splay wide at her waist, memorizing the shape of her through the thin cotton.
For a man who hasn’t been stirred in years, it’s almost raw, the way wanting her hits me—unfiltered and impossible to disguise.
I clear my throat and let go before I make a fool of myself.
“Thanks.” Reese mumbles the word as she chews her lower lip. “Vander preferred his ladies sleek and elegant. Model types. Then there was me.” She sighs, tugging at her short waves with a crooked smile. “But hey, at least I have personality.”
A surge of anger flares inside me. Not at her words, but at the bastard who made her believe them.
“Don’t do that,” I say, voice low.
Her gaze flicks up, cautious. “Do what?”
“Downplay yourself. Pretend you’re less than you are. He was blind, Reese. You’re…” My throat works, the words sticking harder than they should. “You’re more than enough.”
She blinks, like she doesn’t know what to do with the compliment. Then she covers it with a shaky laugh. “Wow, you really are good at this, cowboy.”
But there’s nothing practiced in my words.
Reese steps closer, a true smile gracing her features. “Hands down, this is my favorite cabin.”
“Really? It’s not fancy like the others.”
“Doesn’t matter. I like this one best.”
“This one is mine.” I puff out my chest a bit, thrilled that someone else can see the potential in this hunk of wood and steel.
“Yours?”
“Unofficially. It had fallen into disrepair, and Capri wanted to raze it, but I knew it had good bones, so I asked if I could renovate it. It’s a work in progress.”
Her breath catches as a laugh bubbles out of her chest. “That’s fabulous. What a talent you are, Griffin.” She rushes to the porch, examining the rough-hewn beams and knotty pine railing. “You made all this?”
“I did.” It’s funny, but I desperately want her approval.
“It’s so beautiful. In New York, everything is finished. Polished to a high shine. I much prefer this style. Rustic and warm, even if it’s cold as hell out here,” she finishes, shivering in her thin sweatshirt.
“God, I’m sorry. Here, let’s go inside and I’ll light a fire.”
“Don’t you have to get back?”
“My only goal tonight is to make you feel warm and welcome here.” I grimace at my unintentional sexual innuendo. Flirting is part of my act at the ranch, and it comes with the territory, but with Reese, I truly care what she thinks.
Thankfully, she responds with a wink as she walks inside. “Then get cracking on that fire. I’ll open the wine.”
“Don’t forget about Geraldine’s cooking.”
“Who could forget that? She’s going to be sick of my hounding her with questions. I love cooking. Hence the lack of six-pack abs.”
I smirk. “Trust me, you’ve got plenty going on without a six-pack.”
She shoots me a look, half exasperated, half flustered. “Would you stop being perfect?”
I tilt my head, voice dropping. “You first, darlin’.”
Her cheeks flush. “I am so far from perfect.”
“So am I.”
She gives me a once-over, and lets out a dry laugh. “Oh yeah. Obviously. You’re drowning in flaws.”
Her teasing grin doesn’t sting, but it digs in deeper than I want it to, because that’s exactly how people see me. Nice face, nice body. No one bothers looking past the surface.
I don’t answer. Can’t.
She must sense the shift, because she gives me a gentle punch in the arm. “Okay, cowboy. Let me into your house so I can dig up your deep, dark secrets.”
The corner of my mouth quirks, but inside, I’m reeling. If she really saw me—the life I lead, the compromises I make just to keep things afloat—she’d think twice about sitting here. About me.
My cabin isn’t fancy, but it’s the one place on this damn spinning ball that feels remotely like home. A solid leather couch faces the stone fireplace, part of the eclectic mix of secondhand furniture I’ve collected over the years—sturdy, dependable, built to last.
“Sorry,” I tell her as I strike a match, feeding kindling to the fire. “Most of this stuff’s hand-me-down, but it’ll outlast us both.”
“Furniture’s overrated, anyway.” She drops onto the couch, tugging her legs under herself like she belongs there.
Within minutes the flames catch, chasing the chill from the room. Reese leans forward, her face lit by the fire’s glow, and I have to sit on my hands to keep from pulling her into me.
What the hell is wrong with me? Women paw at me every damn day, and I feel nothing. But with her, I can’t stop staring at her mouth. That perfect cupid’s bow. The curve of her full bottom lip. The way she drags a finger across them absently, like she doesn’t realize she’s killing me.
She’s not doing a damn thing, and yet here I am, teetering on the edge of breaking my own rule.
I hand her some wine and lower myself beside her. She lifts her glass, her lips stained ruby from the first sip. “To new beginnings.”
I clink mine against hers, though my attention never leaves her mouth.
Her gorgeous, sensual mouth.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away. “Tell me about your life in New York.”
Her eyes widen at the phrasing, like I’ve plucked the thought right out of her head. She exhales slowly, setting her glass down on the low table.
“The one I just packed up and left behind a week ago?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, pretending my pulse isn’t pounding. “That one.”
She exhales, swirling her wine. “Not much to tell. I’m a nurse. Been one for fifteen years. Probably since before you were born.”
“Not quite,” I murmur, lips twitching.
Her mouth quirks, but she lets it drop, sipping instead.
Then her gaze goes distant. “I also left behind a life I never fit into. My ex, Vander Hale, came from one of those families. Old money. New York royalty. Rooms full of people who looked like they belonged on magazine covers.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?” But I already know her answer.
She shakes her head, a soft laugh escaping. “Not at all. I always felt out of place. Like a messy note in a symphony. Too ordinary, too… me . But I stayed. I kept showing up, kept smiling, until it felt like the walls were closing in.”
I lean back as the words hitting home harder than I care to admit. “I know that room. Different coast, same crowd. I’ve worn the tux, smiled for the cameras, played the part. But the truth? I hate it. I’d rather be in boots and denim.”
Her eyes catch mine, sharp and curious. “You go to those things too?”
“Clients,” I admit. “Half the time I’m a glorified date. Stand there, look pretty, laugh at their jokes. Smile for the photos. It’s part of the job.”
She cocks her head, studying me. “I’ll bet you clean up well, though.”
A dry laugh rumbles in my chest. “So they say. But I’m a hell of a lot more comfortable out here. Fresh air. Dirt under my boots. A fire I built myself.”
“Makes sense.”
But I don’t want to talk about me. “Why’d you leave him?”
She stares into the fire for a long beat before speaking.
“Because I always knew he was cheating. I caught him once before, but he apologized and slipped a ring on my finger like that would erase everything. I let myself believe it for a while.” Bitter amusement flashes in her eyes as she lifts her shoulders in a helpless shrug.
“But you can only ignore the truth for so long.”
“Did you want to marry him?”
“Apparently not.” A sound somewhere between a laugh and sob flits past her lips.
“The final straw came when we were at a department store. I was picking out dish patterns, trying to convince myself this was the life I wanted. I looked up, and there he was, flirting with some redhead. And then I glanced at the salesgirl helping me and realized he’d slept with her too. All within ten feet of each other.”
Her mouth twists. “I snapped. Smashed the plates I was holding right there on the floor. Completely lost it in front of everyone. Totally out of character for me.”
I lean forward, my elbows braced on my knees, as the heat of her words prickle against my skin. “No, Reese. That wasn’t out of character. That was you finally showing your fire. He spent years trying to cage it, and you finally let it burn through. Maybe that’s who you’ve been all along.”
Her breath hitches, eyes locking on mine.
And Christ help me, I want to be there when she learns just how much fire she really has.
“Besides, any man who cheats deserves to have his dick sawed off.”
Her head jerks toward me, eyes wide at my blunt words, before a guffaw bursts out of her.
“I’m serious,” I press, leaning closer. “You give yourself to someone, it means something. Hell, it means everything. And if he couldn’t see that? Then he never deserved you in the first place.”
She studies me as if I’ve just grown another head. “That’s a very romantic philosophy. One I wish more men would follow. More people, if we’re being honest.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve always been a total romantic. Can’t help it.”
Her brow lifts, skeptical but curious. “How is that possible in your line of work? Please don’t think I’m judging, but I’d imagine it’s hard to build romantic relationships working at the ranch.”
“Impossible,” I admit, my throat tight. For a second, I almost add until now , but I swallow it back, letting the words burn a hole in my chest instead.
She tips her head, flicking her fingers like she’s flipping a switch. “So, you just flip the charm and seduction like a switch? On when you need it, off when you don’t?”
“Sort of. There are a few lines I won’t cross.”
Her lips quirk, but her free hand presses flat against her thigh, like she’s steadying herself as her gaze drops to my mouth. “Like what? No mixing business with pleasure?”
“Something like that.” My grip tightens around the glass, the stem biting into my palm until I force myself to ease up. “I don’t kiss clients on the mouth.”
Her brows raise, surprise. “Ever?”
“Ever,” I confirm. “Kissing’s different. More intimate than anything else. Once you cross that line, it stops being an act.”
Her teeth catch her bottom lip, the faintest tug. “Don’t you miss it?”
My throat works around a knot.
I miss kissing you and yet, I’ve never touched you.
I shift in my seat, focusing my gaze on the fire. Safer that way. “No. Kissing is the most intimate form of communication. And I don’t want that kind of intimacy with my clients.”
“But—”
“Sex isn’t intimacy, Reese. Sex is physical. It can be faked. Hell, women fake orgasms all the time.”
“True.”
“But I can’t fake the intimacy in a kiss. Especially not one of those slow, drugging ones where time stops.”
Our stares lock, steady, unflinching. “Never met a woman who made you want to break the rules?”
Heat licks up my spine. Yeah. You.
But I’m not ready to hand her that truth. Not yet. “Not for a long time. And when she arrives— if she arrives—it’ll be the end of my life here.”
Reese looks away, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Guess that makes sense.”
It shouldn’t matter, her reaction. But it hooks under my ribs, sharp and unshakable. If I ever kiss Reese, it won’t be because she paid for it. It will be because she wants me. Not the mask I wear. Just me. And that thought alone is dangerous as hell.
I swallow hard, forcing myself back into safer waters. “It’s essential. Keeps things clean, so clients don’t confuse business with something more.” My jaw flexes. “But it doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what it’d be like without those lines.”
Her eyes cut back to mine. “If you were to meet someone. Fall madly in love.”
“Exactly.”
She tilts her head, lips curving. “That’s a shame for the world as a whole, because you seem like the type of man who’d love being married with a houseful of kids and a couple of dogs running around the yard.”
A smile tugs at my mouth, but it’s tinged with sadness. As much as I want those things, I always assumed they’d never come my way. “That’s my dream.”
“How many kids?”
The question startles me, and I let out a short laugh. “I love kids, so at least four.”
“Four? Wow.” She takes a sip of wine, eyes dancing over the rim of her glass. “That’s a lot of kids.”
Her teasing loosens something in my chest. “Three, then?”
Reese smiles, and the warmth that floods me is sharp, uninvited, but impossible to push away. For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine it—her, me, three kids, a noisy kitchen filled with light.
“Sure. Three is doable.” She shakes her head, laughing at herself. “Look at me. I barely know you, and I’m dictating how many kids you’ll have. Typical bossy New Yorker, right?”
I can’t stop grinning at her. “Nothing is typical about you.”
In my mind, the picture sharpens: a sunlit kitchen, soup simmering on the stove, a cool breeze drifting through the open window.
Reese barefoot, in worn jeans and one of my old T-shirts, her hair mussed from my hands.
A toddler banging a pan lid on the floor like it’s a drum, the sound blending with the smell of fresh bread and the low hum of a life that feels whole.
I’m sitting here with a woman I barely know, already building a future around her in my head. The crazy part? It doesn’t feel crazy at all.