19. Aiden
Aiden
Paige points to two open spaces beneath the cottonwoods. “One table there and the other beside the checkout tent. Leave enough room for the stroller traffic.”
I shift the folding table against my shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You sound suspiciously pleased to be taking orders.”
“I’ve learned they can lead to interesting places.”
Color rises across her cheeks, but she holds my gaze. “There are children present.”
Josie skips past us carrying a roll of bright yellow raffle tickets. “I’m helping.”
“So am I,” I tell Paige.
“Josie is behaving professionally.”
“I brought every item on your list.”
Her attention moves to my truck, where six tables, two coolers, and three boxes of donated children’s books fill the bed. The library’s summer fundraiser starts in forty minutes, and two volunteers canceled before eight this morning. Paige sent one text asking whether the ranch had spare tables.
I brought enough to solve the problem.
“I asked if you had two,” she says.
“We had six.”
“And you decided I needed all of them?”
“I brought all of them. You can decide what you need.”
Her expression softens. “Four. We can use four.”
I unload four.
Paige directs the setup, and I carry, lift, and place every piece exactly where she points.
She knows which table needs shade for the donated books, where the silent-auction baskets will catch people coming from the sidewalk, and ...
how much space Josie’s craft station requires if anyone expects to keep the glitter contained.
I do exactly what she asks.
She has this under control. I’m just the muscle, the answer to a text about folding tables.
When I set the last cooler beneath the refreshment table, Paige hands me a bottle of water.
“You just saved me an hour.”
“I thought you were done admitting that.”
“I’m trying gratitude. The reviews are mixed.”
I twist the cap off. “You could practice tonight.”
“That sounds less like gratitude and more like a reward system.”
“You liked the reward system last Friday.”
Her eyes flash. “Drink your water, rancher.”
I obey. Paige slides her fingers into my hair and kisses me.
It is quick, warm, and entirely public. She does not glance toward the library doors or check who might be watching. She kisses me because she wants to, smiles against my mouth, and returns to her clipboard.
She has reached for me in front of my family. This is the first time she has done it in the middle of her own world, with patrons moving around us, then walked away as if it needed no explanation.
“Dad,” Josie says, tugging on my shirt. “Miss Paige needs little money.”
Paige looks up. “Change. The bank gave us twenties, and everyone is going to arrive with twenties.”
“How much?”
She tells me, then adds two bags of ice to the request. I take Josie with me so Paige can finish the price signs without answering questions about whether a hand-painted rock belongs in the silent auction.
“It has a ladybug,” Josie says as we cross the parking lot.
“A very valuable ladybug.”
“That’s what I said.”
By the time we return, families are spreading across the lawn.
Paige moves between tables with calm authority, greeting patrons, answering questions, and kneeling to show a little girl where to put her reading-challenge entry.
She never rushes anyone, though I’d seen the long list of tasks still unchecked on her clipboard.
I already know I love her. Watching her here, in her element, makes keeping that love private feel impossible.
Josie takes the ice to the refreshment table while I deliver the cash box. Paige catches my wrist before I step away.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Her thumb brushes my pulse. “I know.”
A man steps around the far end of the book table. He looks vaguely familiar—a local, by the way he uses Paige’s name when she turns toward him.
“I need something for my niece,” he says. “She’s seven and currently thinks books are a punishment.”
Paige smiles and reaches for a paperback. “Then the adults in her life have been choosing the wrong books.”
His smile widens, and she gives him two options, explaining each with the same focus she offers everyone.
He buys both.
Then he leans closer and says, “Are you free after this? I’d even let you choose the restaurant.”
His tone is friendly. His interest is unmistakable.
I set down the box in my hands.
Paige’s mouth parts, but her eyes find mine before she answers.
“I’m flattered,” she says, “but I’m seeing someone.”
The man follows her attention. Recognition crosses his face as I walk around the table and stop beside her.
“Aiden Slade.” He gives me an easy nod. “I should’ve known.”
“You should have,” I say.
Paige’s lips twitch. “He means hello.”
“I said hello with my eyes.”
“I must have missed it.”
I place my hand at her waist. The man has done nothing wrong. Paige gave him no invitation beyond doing her job, and he accepted her answer without argument. I still want his attention off her.
He lifts the bag containing his books. “No hard feelings. My niece will be thrilled to hear she got me rejected by the librarian.”
“You supported childhood literacy,” Paige says. “There are worse ways to lose.”
He chuckles and turns away, but my grip tightens when Paige starts to step after him.
“Did you need something?” she asks.
“I needed him to understand you’re with me.”
“I told him.”
“I heard you.”
“So this is reinforcement?”
“This is me making sure everyone knows you’re mine.”
The word comes out lower than I intend. Paige goes still beneath my hand, then turns into me instead of away. Her palm settles against my chest.
“Everyone?” she asks.
“Anyone who needs the information.”
Her eyes drop to my mouth. “You look remarkably serious about public education.”
I slide my other hand around the back of her neck. “Tell me to move.”
“That would be a waste of both our time.”
I kiss her.
Her fingers bunch in my shirt as she lifts onto her toes and opens for me. I mean for the kiss to be a point, a statement for anyone watching. Her tongue strokes mine, and every sensible reason for keeping it brief disappears.
I angle her head and take her mouth deeper. Paige makes a soft sound against my lips and presses closer. I feel every stare, and I want every single person watching to understand.
Someone whistles from the direction of the refreshment stand.
Paige smiles against my lips. “Your message has reached the entire county.”
“Good.”
I kiss her once more before releasing her. Her mouth is wet, and the pleased look in her eyes does nothing to settle me.
She smooths the front of my shirt. “Go move those auction baskets before you frighten anyone else into buying a book.”
“I didn’t frighten him.”
“No. You just stared at him like you were picking a spot on the ranch with soft ground.”
“I was polite.”
“You were territorial.”
I lean in. “You liked it.”
Her smile turns smug. “Go lift something heavy, Slade.”
Twenty minutes later, Paige finds me behind the booth, opening another box of donated books. The crowd has thickened across the lawn, and Josie is at the craft table demonstrating a concerning lack of respect for measured quantities of glue.
Paige braces one hand on the table beside me. “You are unbearably pleased with yourself.”
“I’m working.”
“You’ve been wearing that expression since you informed a perfectly nice man that I’m yours.”
“He needed accurate information.”
“He had accurate information. I gave it to him.”
“I added context.”
“You kissed me like you wanted him to see your name stamped across my forehead.”
“I was aiming lower.”
Her breath catches. She glances toward the narrow opening between the booth wall and the library.
“There are people everywhere,” she says.
“I’m aware.”
“And children.”
“Painfully aware.”
“Then you should stop looking at me like that.”
“You came back here.”
“To mock you.”
“Is that all?”
She studies me, making me wait while laughter and music drift from the lawn. Then she steps closer and hooks one finger through my belt loop.
“No,” she says. “I wanted to clarify something.”
I set the book in my hand aside. “Go ahead.”
“I like that word from your mouth.”
“Mine?”
Her finger pulls me forward an inch. “Under specific circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
“When you’re jealous.” Her gaze holds mine. “When your hand is on me. When you say it like you plan to prove exactly what it means somewhere no one else can see us.”
My cock presses painfully against my jeans.
“Paige.”
She releases my belt loop and reaches for the box cutter. “You asked.”
“What time does this end?”
“Three.”
I glance at my watch. “That’s two hours and forty-three minutes.”
“Then I suggest you stay busy.”
I catch her wrist before she can turn away. “And at three?”
Her eyes flash as she leans close enough for her lips to brush my ear.
“At three, you can find somewhere private and make me say I’m yours.”
I tighten my hand around her wrist before she can straighten.
“You have no idea what you just asked for.”
Paige glances toward the lawn, where a mother is helping two children choose bookmarks. “I was specific.”
“You asked me to make you say it.”
“I’m confident you’ll figure out the details.”
“That gives you two hours to wonder what I’m going to do.”
Her pupils widen. “That would be much more effective if I hadn’t read enough books to develop several theories.”
I pull her closer, keeping the table between us and everyone else. “None of your books know how you sound when you’re trying not to come.”
Her lips part.
“They don’t know where to touch you to make your knees shake. They haven’t heard that sound you make right at the edge.”
Her voice drops to a whisper. “Neither has this entire fundraiser.”
“I’m keeping my voice down.”
“You’re threatening my professional composure.”
“It sounds like your composure has a deadline.”
She presses the box cutter into my hand and walks away.
While I’m restocking the refreshment table, Paige passes behind me and lets her fingers drag across my lower back. Later, when I carry a box into the library storage room, she follows just long enough to shut the door halfway and kiss the corner of my mouth.
“You’re supposed to be working,” I say, my voice low.
“I am. That box was in the wrong place.”
“It’s exactly where you told me to put it.”
“Then you must have misunderstood.”
She reaches around me for a stack of flyers, brushing her breasts against my arm.
I catch her hip. “Careful.”
Her smile is pure challenge. “Why?”
“Because when I get you alone, I’m going to put this mouth to better use.”
She swallows, gives me one final deliberate rub, and slips out of my grip.
For the rest of the fundraiser, every table I lift, every box I carry, is fueled by the thought of Paige on her knees.
By three, the crowd has thinned to volunteers and a few determined shoppers digging through the last of the donated books.
Mom collected Josie during cleanup and took her back to the ranch to help with dinner.
Paige counts the cash while I collapse tables.
Every time I look over, she is focused on her work, answering questions and checking figures, completely composed after spending the afternoon pushing me to the edge in front of the whole town.
I load the final table into my truck and find her locking the library’s side door.
“Did we survive?” I ask.
She slides the keys into her bag. “We exceeded the fundraising goal by almost twenty percent.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze drops below my belt. “How are you holding up?”
“Get in my truck and find out.”
“My car is here.”
“Then follow me.”
She steps close enough to smooth both hands over my chest. “Where are we going?”
“I need to get back to the ranch.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a family obligation.”
“It is. But I’m handling something private first.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt. “Is that what I am? Something you need to handle?”
I bend until my mouth is beside her ear. “You’re the woman who told me to make her admit who she belongs to. I’m taking you somewhere I can do it properly.”
A tremor runs through her.
I kiss the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Follow me to the main barn.”
She draws back. “Do you have a room in mind?”
“Yes.”
“Does it have a lock?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop talking.”
We leave in separate vehicles. Paige stays close behind me all the way out of town, her dark sedan filling my rearview mirror as the storefronts give way to open road. I should take her to my house. It has privacy, a bed, and the slow, quiet hours I would need to take my time.
Taking my time was never part of her request.
I turn toward the main barn when we reach the ranch. Paige follows without hesitation and parks beside my truck. I am barely out before she meets me between the vehicles.
“Which door?” she asks.
I point toward the side entrance.
She walks ahead of me, purposeful and flushed, her skirt shifting around her thighs with every step. My attention stays fixed on her legs until she looks over her shoulder.
“Are you coming, Slade?”
“Eventually.”
Her laugh catches when I reach her and put my hand on her ass.
The tack room smells like leather, cedar, and clean hay. Saddles line one wall, bridles hang from labeled hooks, and a sturdy worktable sits beneath the narrow window. Paige takes in the room, then looks at the table.
Her smile turns wicked. “This will do.”
I step inside and lock the door behind us.