Chapter 5 #2
“You told me you’re not ready, and I respect that. However, I’ve missed my chance before, and I’m not willing to let that happen again, so we shake on it. When you’re ready, I’m the man who gets the chance to steal your heart. Just me, Baylor.”
“This isn’t funny, Macklin,” I warn him.
“I agree.”
“You’re serious?” There’s a swarm of hummingbirds taking flight in my belly, and my heart thinks it’s time to beat like a bass drum.
“Yes. I’d be happy to explain it to you over dinner.” He offers me a small grin.
“You want to have dinner with me?”
“For starters,” he answers.
“I just came out to give the horses some carrots,” I say, holding up the carrots, as if that will turn this conversation around somehow.
“I know, but I’ve been waiting a long damn time, and it’s been hard to stay away this past week. I told myself the next time I ran into you, I’d put my plan in motion, so here I am.”
“Your plan.” I nod as if I understand, when I still think he’s fucking with me.
“My plan to make you fall in love with me.”
“That’s a pretty big proclamation.”
“It is,” he says easily, like he’s talking about the weather and not completely upending my entire sense of reality.
“But I’ve never been one to think small when it matters.
” He leans in close and presses his lips to my forehead.
“You matter.” I sway a little on my feet, reaching out to brace my hand against the stall door to steady myself. This man and his words are lethal.
My fingers tighten around the carrots, the cool, rough edges pressing into my palm, grounding me when everything else feels… unsteady. The barn is quiet except for the soft shuffle of hooves from the horses. It’s calm and quiet. Nothing like the way my pulse is suddenly sprinting.
“You don’t even know if I want that,” I point out, lifting my chin. “What if I don’t want to fall in love with you?” Just saying the words has my belly twisting, not because I don’t like the thought of what he’s saying, but come on, this is coming out of nowhere.
His gaze doesn’t waver. If anything, it softens, like he’s seeing something I’m trying very hard to keep hidden. “I think you do,” he says, not cocky, just certain. “You’re just scared of it.”
A flash of heat rises in my chest. “You don’t get to decide what I feel, Macklin. I don’t need another man in my life telling me how things are going to go.”
“No,” he agrees, stepping a little closer, slow enough that I could move away if I wanted to. I don’t. “But I do get to decide what I’m willing to risk. And I’m all in on you, Baylor.”
The way he says my name, quiet, steady, like it means something, makes my breath hitch before I can stop it. A slow, sexy grin tilts his lips when he notices. Of course, he does. I hate that he notices that I can’t hide my reaction to this bizarre conversation or to him.
That smile grows. “Dinner,” he repeats. “No pressure. No expectations. Just… time. You and me. You can ask me anything you want, and I’ll tell you a story. It’s a good one. I can assure you that you don’t want to miss it.”
I swallow hard as I think about his words.
He has a story for me. He wants me to fall in love with him, and I know Macklin well enough to see the truth in his eyes.
He truly believes the words that he’s saying.
Even still, I had to ask to make sure because this is catching me off guard, coming out of left field.
And that’s the problem. There’s a piece of me that wants to believe him.
However, I’ve trusted men before, and look where that landed me.
Five years in a relationship that ended without a backward glance.
I don’t want to waste more time. I just…
I don’t know. This entire conversation has caught me off guard.
“I don’t know—I’m not ready,” I remind him, my voice soft.
He nods. “I respect that.” His voice dips, gentler, but no less firm. “This isn’t me asking you to be ready. This is me asking for a chance when you are.” His green eyes hold mine captive.
There’s something dangerously sincere about him. No games. No teasing edge to hide behind. Just truth, laid bare at my feet, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
It shouldn’t be this hard to say no. I just ended a relationship. I need time to learn what I want for myself. Not what a man wants for me.
“So, what—” I stall, crossing my arms even though it does nothing to steady me. “You’re just going to… wait around? Hope I wake up one day and decide you’re it?”
“If that’s what it takes,” he says without hesitation.
My chest tightens. “That’s ridiculous. This is… out of left field, Macklin.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs one shoulder. “But I’ve lost you once already without ever really having you. I’m not interested in repeating that mistake.”
He lost me? The words land more heavily than they should. It has a lot to do with his tone; I can hear sadness and tenderness in his words. I fist my hands at my sides, my nails digging into my palms; the pain bites, another reminder that this isn’t a dream.
“You didn’t lose me,” I say, quieter now. “You never had me to begin with.”
His eyes hold mine, something deeper flickering there. Something that looks a lot like regret. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it.”
For a second, I forget how to breathe.
Buckwheat shifts and pushes his head through the top opening of the stall door, and the sound snaps the moment in two.
I turn, almost grateful for the interruption, and hold a carrot out for him.
The familiar nicker steadies me, gives me something to do with my hands, my thoughts, my everything.
I step away from Macklin, facing the stall, and watch as Buckwheat devours his carrot.
The distance, even a small one, is welcome. He’s too close. Too tempting.
“You’re making this complicated,” I murmur.
“I think you’re the one doing that,” he counters softly. He steps up beside me and cages me in with his arms resting on the stall door.
I close my eyes for a brief second. Whatever space I was clinging to is gone now. It’s filled with Macklin, and his steady presence at my back, his body caging me in.
“Dinner,” I repeat, like I’m testing the word. He asked me to dinner.
“Dinner,” he confirms, his tone filled with what I can only describe as hope.
I can do this. I can agree to dinner. Not just to put some space between us now, but also, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to hear this story of his. “No promises,” I warn.
“Wouldn’t ask for them.”
“No expectations.”
“None,” he agrees. “Well, except your agreement that I get to be the first one who gets a shot at stealing this,” he says, lifting one arm from the stall door and placing it over my chest again.
The move has his body completely aligned with mine, my back to his front, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t melt into his touch.
My heart stutters. This is the last thing I need—a fling with Macklin—but this man, damn if he’s not tempting.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Dinner.” The words are past my lips before I can stop them.
“Yeah?” he asks, his warm breath coasting over my cheek. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“No, I’ll meet you.”
“My place, then. Seven.”
“I’m not so sure your place is the best plan.”
“No funny business. I respect your need for time. But it’s private, and I think we need that for my story.”
“Okay. I’ll be there at seven.”
“You know where I live?” he asks. His other hand drops from the stall door, and he grips my hip.
“Magnolia Ridge is a small town.”
“You’ve been gone a long damn time, Baylor.”
“I know where you live, cowboy,” I tease, trying to break the tension that’s threatening to set the stables on fire.
“Okay.” He chuckles.
And just like that, something shifts. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but enough that I feel it settle under my skin. No matter how hard I try, my lips betray me with the faintest hint of a smile, and I’m grateful my back is still toward him.
I wait for regret to come, but all I feel is… curiosity, and excitement. It’s likely because it’s been too long since a man has wanted time with me. I’m deprived. That’s all this is. I’ll have dinner with him, hear his story, and then this weird conversation will be put behind us.
That’s what I tell myself, but this moment already feels as if we’re barreling toward something I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop, or if I even want to.