Chapter 12 #2
I’m not saying I’m proud of learning this about myself. I am only saying that Tate has warm, strong, manly hands, and there will occasionally be consequences to that fact.
He was halfway around the truck when I yanked open my door and slid out onto the ground.
“Do you know where we’re supposed to go?” I asked, my hand blocking the sun as I tried to determine if we were meeting at the stables or the—
Suddenly, Tate’s manly hands were back, only this time, instead of my hips, they landed on my waist. Before I could utter a word of protest, he was lifting me back inside the truck.
“What are you—” I began, only to stop when those hands found my legs, scooting them underneath the dash.
He delighted me with my favorite of his exasperated looks before he slammed the door shut, only to yank it open once more.
He leaned forward, his left arm resting on the top of the truck and his face inches from mine, and waited until he had my full attention—which happened approximately ten seconds ago.
“You don’t get out of this truck until I give the okay. Got it?”
He waited while I blinked, completely startled, all while my heart rate took off at a wild gallop.
I tried to stop it. Tried to keep that tiny romantic part of my brain from exploding.
I tried to stop my smile from escaping. And for the love of all that was holy, I tried to clamp down the giddiness bubbling up inside of me.
He was in cop mode right now. It was all for my safety. None of this meant anything like how my brain was wanting to take it.
This reaction would not do.
I was a murder-mystery writer. That was who I’d always been.
I fought for justice. For peace. I fought to tell the entire world where I stood on crime and bad choices.
I made it my business to arrest the bad guys and tell a good story.
My writing romance was temporary. A tiny glitch in my career.
It wouldn’t be forever. I didn’t want it to be forever.
So how did I explain the outrageously romantic thoughts exploding inside of me right now?
“I open the doors,” he reiterated, like a sexy caveman.
Maybe it was the combination of his low voice and the way his body wasn't unpleasantly crowding my space. Or maybe it was the way his eyes dropped to my lips, just for a millisecond.
But, either way, I broke.
My hands immediately moved to cover the grin now sprouting fully across my blazing cheeks while I snorted.
Or giggled? Or maybe it was a mixture of both.
Either way, it was uncontrollable. After a long moment, I pulled in a few deep breaths, fully aware of his eyes on me, while attempting to corral the absolute euphoria that was erupting through my body.
My toes were curling, and my brain was begging me to pause and re-live the last twenty seconds over and over again.
Is this what romance does to a woman?
Could a person get high off of bliss? Was this the type of swoon Elaine was so adamant I needed in my screenplay?
I took another deep breath, and I removed my hands.
A surprisingly bemused expression looked back at me underneath his hat and long lashes, and I fought to keep the giddy waves from building again.
“I’m sorry,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m ready.”
And then I threw him a wobbly grin and held out my hand like a dainty lady waiting to be helped down from the carriage.
He scowled lightly, but now I wondered if it was more performative than anything because I definitely detected some amusement as he stepped back, grabbed my hand, and helped me out of the truck.
His warm hand held mine all the way to the stables.
Archer stepped out of the tall, cream-colored building as we neared. He wore dusty jeans and a flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves. I hadn’t seen him since the mayor’s party, but I smiled and waved as we approached.
“Sorry, guys,” Archer began after a bit of small talk. “I know we had you scheduled for a trail ride, but we got double-booked.”
A hopeful expression crossed Tate’s face just then and gave him away.
“Don’t get too excited, Walker.” Archer grinned and nodded toward the barn. “We have a backup. It won’t be a trail ride, but it might be even better.”
We turned to watch what looked like Sadie from the bakery and another man who looked familiar standing next to two impressively large horses attached to a wagon.
“Is that James Carver?” Tate asked, squinting toward the pair.
“Yeah. I’m having him go with Sadie. It’s her first time driving the wagon for guests,” Archer said as we made our way toward the group.
It had been years since I’d seen James. He’d been closer to Tate and Will’s age than mine, but I’d always thought he was handsome.
That was accentuated now with the dark hair and the quiet vibe he seemed to put off.
Tate shook his hand and began catching up while I turned to Sadie.
“I was going to make Tate get me a sticky bun on our way home,” I told her. “Please tell me somebody’s there baking them this morning.”
She laughed, her auburn hair bouncing slightly from her ponytail. “I was there this morning. We should have plenty.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She blew out a breath, tucking a piece of windblown hair behind her ear. “I help out here now and then when Archer doesn’t write appointments down properly.” She said that last phrase a bit louder and was rewarded with a friendly glare from the man in question.
She lowered her voice and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. “You guys are so cute,” she whispered, motioning toward Tate.
I laughed softly, feeling my face flush lightly.
Thankfully, by this point, Tate held my arm and began guiding me toward the stairs on the back of the wagon. He motioned for me to go first, his hand pressed lightly at the base of my back as I climbed up.
The wagon looked new, with very little hay on it. Just one bale, to be precise.
Tate looked over at James and Sadie and pointed to the one bale of hay in the middle of the wagon. “You guys are really going all out for us.”
James smiled but looked to Sadie to answer.
“Sorry about that. We’ll have more seats for the festival, but for now, this is all we’ve got. We’re still waiting on that last load of Walker hay to get here,” she quipped.
“That’s alright.” Tate sat down on the hay and motioned for me to do the same. “Olivia likes it better this way.”
I gave him a light elbow to his stomach. But when he shifted forward, my arm smacked against something hard and metal against his back hip. I looked over at him in surprise and was rewarded with raised eyebrows.
I guess he did have places where he secretly carried guns.
“And this is a full-service ride,” Sadie said, handing Tate a blanket. “Sorry, we just have one. The others are being washed.”
Sadie climbed into the front of the wagon with James while we spread the blanket out over both of us.
I leaned back directly into his arm he had wrapped loosely around my waist. It was casual, cool, and breezy.
It made us look like we were together while also giving me the option to stay how I was or lean closer, if I wanted.
I wanted to lean closer.
The tug and pull of the wagon almost demanded it. He was strong and warm and just irreverent enough to probably tease me about it later. But I leaned my head against his chest anyway. Except, he didn’t tease me or even smirk. Instead, he adjusted his position to make me more comfortable.
I was dealing with an undercover cop who could play a role like this with his eyes closed.
I was not an undercover cop, however, and would be implementing some definite boundaries on my end when we got home.
My heart needed clear lines to help avoid the confusion a warm and strong chest seemed to create.
I didn’t think Tate ever fully relaxed. His body held tense as his eyes were, no doubt, raking through the thick trees in the woods. Always at the ready. For me.
The wagon hit a bump in the road, jolting me forward. Tate tightened his grip, and I instinctively snuggled closer.
Okay.
It was Friday.
Everybody knew that new goals always started on a Monday.