9. Aiden
Aiden
Paige follows me onto the porch barefoot, her hair falling over one shoulder.
She props a shoulder against the doorframe. “You know Saturday doesn’t begin at sunrise.”
“It does on a ranch.”
“That sounds like a flaw in ranching.”
I stop beside the steps and look at her. She pulls on the green shirt she wore last night, but the denim shorts have been replaced by soft black sleep shorts that make a strong case for not leaving at all.
We slept for a few hours. I woke with her back against my chest, my arm tight around her waist. It felt too natural, too easy to stay. A single night wasn’t permission to claim her Saturday morning, too. I needed to go.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” I ask.
Paige leans against the porch post. “I’m standing, aren’t I?”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I’m also capable of identifying regret.”
“Still not an answer.”
She gives me a teasing smile. “Are you worried I’m going to panic now that the sun is up?”
“I’m making sure you don’t wish I’d left last night.”
“If I wanted you gone, you would have been gone.” She folds her arms. “I believe we established that I’m capable of telling you what I want.”
She had. By putting my hand on her thigh and telling me to touch her. By looking me in the eye and agreeing to this.
I know new versions of Paige now: direct and unhesitating, laughing while she’s naked, admitting when pleasure surprises her and asking for more anyway.
Knowing them only makes me want the rest of her—the parts I have to earn.
“You’re staring,” she says.
“I’m remembering.”
She flushes, though she keeps looking at me. “Anything useful?”
“Several things.”
“Then your memory is better than your reading skills.”
I grip her waist and draw her flush against me.
Her arms slide around my neck immediately. “You’re supposed to be leaving.”
“I am.”
“This looks inefficient.”
“I’m saying goodbye.”
“With both hands on my ass?”
“One of them is on your waist.”
“My mistake. Very respectful.”
I kiss her before she can offer another correction.
Paige rises onto her toes and opens for me, warm and certain. I deepen the kiss and she meets me, her fingers tangling in my hair as my hand slides under the hem of her shirt.
I could carry her back to bed and not surface until noon. Instead, I slow the kiss and lift my head.
She makes a quiet, displeased sound. “You’re going to run out of restraint soon.”
“You liked it last night.”
“I liked what happened when you stopped using it.”
My cock hardens against her stomach.
Paige smiles. “Useful memory?”
“Get inside.”
“Is that an order?”
“Unless you want me to forget I have work.”
Her eyes darken. “Maybe I do.”
I take one step toward the door, and she laughs as she presses both hands to my chest.
“Go be responsible, Aiden.”
“Next Friday,” I say.
“We already agreed.”
“I’m changing dinner.”
Her eyebrows lift. “That sounds dangerously close to rearranging my plans.”
“I’m asking you to take me to the alpine lake you mentioned.”
“You want me to take you?”
“You know the trail. I don’t.”
“That must have hurt to admit.”
“I survived.”
She studies me, interest replacing some of the teasing. “It’s six miles round trip, and the last section is steep.”
“I can handle six miles.”
“At altitude?”
“I live in Colorado.”
“You drive around Colorado. That isn’t the same thing.”
“Are you questioning whether I can keep up with you?”
“I’m saying I’ll decide after I see whether you can.”
I tighten my hand at her waist. “Friday. Tell me what time.”
“That sounded like another assumption.”
“Will you take me to the lake on Friday?”
Paige draws my mouth down to hers and gives me one slow kiss.
“I’ll consider it.”
I release her before consideration turns into another hour in her bed. “Lock the door.”
“I survived thirty years without you checking my locks.”
“Do it anyway.”
She rolls her eyes, but I hear the dead bolt slide into place after I reach my truck.
My phone buzzes in the cupholder ten minutes later. I pull into a turnout and pick it up.
Paige: Since you asked what I want, I want your mouth between my thighs again. Seven days is still unreasonable.
By Tuesday, Paige has learned exactly when I cannot answer my phone.
She claims the timing is coincidence. The three messages waiting every time Axel and I finish tensioning another section of fence say otherwise.
A cow snapped two weak posts along the west pasture. We’ve replaced them, but a hundred yards of loose wire needs tension before the herd can go back.
I hook the wire into the come-along, brace one boot against the post, and pull until the line between us straightens. My phone buzzes against my hip.
Paige’s face flashes through my mind, followed by her thighs around my head and the broken sound she made when she stopped teasing long enough to say my name.
“Eyes on the wire,” Axel says.
“I know where my eyes are.”
“That grin says otherwise.”
I secure the wire before I take a hand off the tool. “My grin isn’t saying a thing.”
“That one does. It’s obnoxious.”
Only after I lock the tension do I pull out my phone.
Paige: Have you decided whether Friday includes a repeat performance?
I drag my glove off with my teeth and type.
Me: I don’t repeat myself.
Paige: That sounds concerning.
Me: I’ll put you on the edge of your bed and show you the difference.
The typing bubble appears immediately.
Paige: Assuming you survive six miles at altitude.
Me: Keep questioning my stamina. I like knowing you’ll have to apologize naked.
Her response takes longer this time.
Paige: Your confidence remains deeply irritating.
Me: It didn’t irritate you Friday night.
It’s not just the way she sounds when a moan breaks through her control, or how she steals the covers then tucks her cold feet between my calves.
Every new detail just makes the gaps more obvious.
I find myself wondering what she drinks when she works late, what she reads during lunch, why she picked that specific alpine lake.
I want all of it—the easy answers and the ones I’ll have to earn.
“That’s definitely Paige,” Axel says.
I slide the phone into my pocket. “You don’t know that.”
“You don’t smile at anyone else like you’re picturing them without clothes.”
“Maybe I was reading a weather alert.”
“Must be one hell of a storm system.”
I pick up the fencing pliers and walk toward the next post. Axel falls into step beside me, ignoring the hint.
“So this is more than a hookup,” he says.
“We’re not putting a name on it.”
“You asked her?”
“We agreed.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“It’s all I’m giving you.”
Paige and I agreed we are not seeing anyone else. Being exclusive means I know no one else is in her bed. It doesn’t give me the right to put a name on this before she does.
Axel squints at me. “You moved the north-pasture check to Thursday.”
“The cattle won’t care.”
“You hate changing the weekly rotation.”
“I run the rotation. It doesn’t run me.”
“And you cleared Friday afternoon.”
“Paige picked a trail.”
His eyebrows rise. “She picked it?”
“I asked her to take me.”
“You asked a woman to lead you up a mountain, rearranged half your week, and agreed not to sleep with anyone else.”
“You’re missing a few details.”
“Which part?”
“You left out the mineral delivery.”
Axel laughs and finally moves to the next post. “No label, though.”
“None.”
He shakes his head. “Does Paige know your unlabeled situation already has a standing Friday appointment?”
“It has one Friday appointment.”
“And next Friday?”
I set the pliers around the wire. “Ask me next Saturday.”
We work another hour before my phone buzzes again. This time, I wait until Axel knots off the final wire and I confirm the tension is secure.
Paige: Since you’re apparently capable of patience, I need an expert opinion.
Me: On what?
Paige: Whether closing alone in the romance stacks is a workplace hazard.
My thumb stills over the screen.
Me: Are you alone now?
Paige: Just me in the romance stacks, a return cart, and shelves full of men who would already be here.
Me: What time do you close?
Paige: Seven.
I check the time. Five forty-two.
Axel follows my gaze to the phone. “You’re done for the day, aren’t you?”
I look at the repaired fence, then the last post waiting beside the truck.
“At six.”
At six thirty-two, I walk into the library carrying two coffees, and my only goal is to keep my hands to myself until Paige finishes working.
The second part becomes difficult when I find her halfway down an aisle, stretching onto her toes to slide a paperback onto the top shelf. Her navy dress usually reaches her knees. Right now, it’s several inches higher.
“You came.” She doesn’t look at me.
“You sound surprised.”
“I gave you seventy-eight minutes of notice.”
“You gave me a closing time.”
She pushes the book into place and turns, her eyes dropping to the cups in my hand. “Is one of those bribery?”
“I brought coffee.”
“You don’t know how I take mine.”
“That’s why the bag has cream, sugar, and every artificial sweetener they had.”
Her laugh echoes in the quiet aisle. “A man with a plan. And a lot of sugar packets.”
“Learning your coffee order seemed easier than guessing.”
Her teasing softens before she walks toward me and takes the cup I hold out.
“I use one sugar.”
I pass her the bag. “Now I know.”
“Yes, Rancher. You have successfully collected one fact.” She adds a packet to the cup.
“How many books are left?”
“Fourteen.”
“I can wait. I was told the men in these books would already be here.”
Her smile curves against the lid. “They also arrive with dramatic declarations and questionable respect for employment policies.”
“I brought coffee and stayed out of your way.”
“So far.”
She pushes the cart deeper into the stacks. I follow at a distance that lets her work, my eyes tracing the line of her legs. She shelves three books before she glances back and catches me.
“My eyes are up here.”
“I know where they are.”
“Is that your standard defense?”
“Axel.”
“What were you staring at then?”
“My phone.”
“Anything interesting?”
“No one else talks to me about putting my mouth between her thighs while I’m repairing a fence.”
“Maybe your social circle lacks imagination.”
“It lacks women I want in my bed.”
A flush rises on her throat, and she turns back to the book, suddenly focused on the shelf. “Five thirty Friday morning. Meet me at the cabin.”
“That early?”
“You said you could keep up.”
“Just make sure you bring water, layers, and shoes with decent traction,” she says.
“I’ll buy hiking shoes.”
“For one date?”
“I’ll hike again.”
“That sounds suspiciously like you expect a second invitation.”
“I expect to earn one.”
She looks away and reaches for another book, but the smile stays on her mouth.
I let her finish the cart. When a patron asks for large-print mysteries, I step aside while Paige walks him across the library. She returns with an empty cart and finds me waiting for her.
“Very restrained,” she says.
“You’re working.”
“That usually doesn’t stop the fictional men.”
“They’re fictional.”
“And you’re so sure reality is better?”
“I thought we settled that Friday night.”
She looks at my mouth. “We settled part of it.”
I set my coffee beside hers on the end shelf. “Which part is still in question?”
“You made some bold promises about what would happen the next time I questioned your stamina.”
“I’m thorough.”
“So am I.”
She steps closer and runs one finger down the center of my shirt until the touch ends at my belt.
“Paige.”
“Yes?”
“Are you trying to provoke me at work?”
“I’m standing in an aisle.”
“With your hand on my belt.”
Her fingertip slips beneath the buckle without loosening it. “You could move.”
I push the cart aside and back her against the shelves.
I lean closer. “You wanted me to move?”
“This works.”
I brace one hand beside her head. “Tell me if it stops working.”
“It won’t.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I will.”
I kiss her.
Paige grabs my shirt and pulls me closer, her mouth opening for me with an urgency that matches mine after four long days. I keep one hand against the shelf and slide the other around her waist, staying clear of the security cameras.
She bites my lower lip.
I drag my mouth along her jaw, and she tips her head to give me her throat. Her laugh becomes a quiet moan when I find the pulse below her ear. She presses closer, her hand drifting toward my belt again.
My hand closes around her wrist.
“Friday,” I say against her skin.
“That’s a long time.”
“Three days.”
“Unreasonable.”
“Still what we agreed.”
A wheel squeaks at the end of the aisle.
We separate as a woman pushes a basket around the corner. Paige grabs the nearest book and studies its cover while I pick up my coffee. The woman gives us a knowing look and keeps walking.
Paige waits until the squeaking wheel disappears.
She leans close. “Smooth.”
“You grabbed a book called The Highwayman’s Captive Bride.”
“It was within reach.”
“Does he have references?”
“Probably not.”
The closing announcement sounds overhead. Paige returns the book to the shelf and steps close enough that her lips brush my ear.
“After the lake, I want you naked in my bed,” she whispers. “And this time, I want you inside me.”
My hand tightens around the coffee cup.
She leans back, watching my face. “If we both still want that Friday.”
“I want it now.”
“So do I.”
I hold her gaze. “Friday.”
“Friday.”
She walks toward the front desk with the empty cart. I follow her, the scent of her on my skin, my body already counting the seconds until Friday.