Chapter 17
Dakota
Tiff: Are you STILL there?!
Tiff: Like, for REALS?! … Why?
Tiff: OH MY GOD! Did he kidnap you?!
Tiff: Am I going to have to call the police?!
Pump the brakes, Tiffany… fuck…
But then again, why was I still here?
Wearing nothing but his shirt…
Why wasn’t I ready to leave right after breakfast?
I should’ve been on my way home hours ago.
Doing the walk of shame with my makeup half-smeared across my face and clothes smelling of stale beer and sex.
But instead, I now found myself lounging on a rustic daybed swing, staring out at acres of land, nearly forgetting how much of a diehard city girl I’d become over the years.
This view was far more therapeutic and relaxing for me than any class I could teach.
My sister accepted the vague details of last night, enough to keep her mind at ease and out of my inbox. At least until I figured out what the fuck I was doing…
All Tiffany needed to know was that I needed her to cover for me at the studio until I returned from taking a much-needed mini vacation and disconnecting from responsibility, with a man who had me crossing every boundary I’d ever set.
Despite our studio drama, Rhylan was starting to grow on me. I never envisioned becoming serious with him. But the longer I spent in his presence, the more I wanted to open the door I’d slammed shut.
I hate to fucking say it, but this man has felt more like home than the one I built with Tiffany… And that is fucking terrifying.
He’s hot, he cooks—incredibly well, and he has a whole ass ranch in the countryside…
So where was the problem? What was I missing?
Where was the red fucking flag warning me to stay away?
Rhylan was the whole damn package. A woman’s wet dream. And yet I was waiting for the other shoe to drop; to tell me I was batshit crazy for lingering longer than I should. He had me wondering if I should let my guard down, just this once, to see where this new road might take me.
I lowered my gaze from the clouds to the quarter-filled mug of coffee I’d nestled in between my criss-crossed legs, made exactly how I liked it; no substitutions necessary.
My mind continued to wander as I stared into the dark liquid, my reflection distorting from ripples my fingers made as I tapped them against the ceramic.
“Lost in thought there, Wildcat?” Rhylan’s figure filled the gap over my shoulder. Snapping out of my doom spiral, I whipped my head around to catch a man so goddamn handsome, hovering over me, lifting my chin at the smell of his scent.
“Rhy—” He was fully dressed. Wearing jeans that accentuated his ass, and a black T-shirt under an unbuttoned black and white buffalo plaid flannel, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, making his muscles pop.
He was delicious, just like his pancakes…
“Thought I’d take you around the property; show you why they named it Cherry River before that storm rolls in.
” Rhylan nodded toward the darkening sky in the distance, and without giving my brain the chance to overthink his offer and miss out on truly getting to know the kind of man he was; I said yes.
Rhylan took his Tacoma off-road, driving us along a dense tree-covered trail that ran parallel to a small river. The sky had grown even darker, adding to the mysterious beauty of his scenic ranch tour along with the fresh smell of approaching rain.
As we reached a small clearing, the trees formed a lush canopy that surrounded us in a blanket of various shades of green, and the deeper we went, the more I noticed that most were covered in drooping clusters of dark reds and blacks.
“Black cherries,” Rhylan answered, slowing the truck to a stop under the largest of them all.
He got out of the driver’s seat, heading toward the tree, and I quickly jumped out and followed, watching closely as he pressed an open palm against the scaly bark, his gaze lifting upward in appreciation.
“The majority of these trees are around a hundred years old. This fine specimen in particular is approaching one-hundred-and-thirty-five next spring...”
I didn’t move from where I’d stopped just a few feet away from him, paying close attention to Rhylan’s body language; how he seemed to grow lighter the longer he stood there, and I could feel the reason why.
The atmosphere had transformed.
Of all the things we could’ve done to pass the time, he brought me to his serene escape that had rendered me speechless, and now my stomach was fluttering with the wings of a thousand butterflies.
Never had I been brought to a more beautiful location.
Never had I felt the sudden impulse to fall for a man I barely even knew.
As Rhylan gradually turned to face me, the air in my lungs became heavy, every breath forced and foreign.
His hazel eyes grounded me in this moment as he extended an open hand, inviting me in with a soft smile—the smell of rich cherries mingling with the musk of his cologne coaxing out my vulnerability.
Like a bee to sweet, succulent honey, I stepped closer, instinctively placing the tips of my fingers into his palm, time slowing to a crawl, delaying the approaching storm.
When his hand closed around mine, a single blink was all it took before he had my back pressed against the rough bark, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, and a gentle hand cradling my cheek.
From the moment we'd met, my eyes never strayed from his.
I was locked in. Hung up. Screwed.
I wanted him—more than I ever thought possible. The uncontrollable yearning that had been building beneath my skin from day one. The tingle, the hunger, the primal urge to claim, and not in a casual sense.
Claim, as in mark; to brand this man as mine.
The last shred of sanity I‘d been struggling to hold onto snapped, along with my restraint, as my right hand found the collar of his shirt, fist gripping and twisting in the soft cotton before I forcefully crashed our mouths together; a deep guttural moan leaving my body in the process.
Unapologetic, unafraid—un-fucking-yielding.
And just when things couldn’t have been more romantic, droplets of water had started running down the side of my cheek, cooling the flush that covered my face.
The first kiss of rain…