Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LOLA
“Violet,” I hiss as I grab her arm and yank her back before she can disappear inside the catering tent.
She spins around, eyes blowing wide, hands flying up like I’ve caught her stealing. “What?”
“Did you know Hunter was going to be here?” My voice comes out lethal. “That it’s his kid’s party?”
She shakes her head so fast her earrings swing. “No. I told you I was dealing with a guy named Ace. And my uncle arranged this months ago, before I took over. I had no idea. But…”
I arch a brow. Let the silence do the work. “But?”
A grin splits across her face, the kind that means trouble. “It’s not a bad thing bumping into your truck romp. Plenty of spare rooms here.” She waggles her eyebrows. “After you’re done with work, of course.”
A laugh punches out of me before I can stop it. “No.” I press my palm flat against her shoulder and push her back an inch. “It can’t happen again.”
Even as I say it, my stomach does something traitorous. A flip. A swoop. Something I haven’t signed up for. I don’t know what scares me more, being trapped, or the fact that Hunter Sterling makes me feel things I’ve spent my whole life convincing myself don’t exist.
That scares me.
Violet tilts her head, reading me the way only she can. “Why not? You’re single. I’m pretty sure he is. You two had fun. You can have fun again.” A shrug. “Doesn’t need to be serious.”
I bite down on my lip hard enough to sting. There is nothing about Hunter Sterling that screams unserious. He’s intense. Passionate. Not someone I’d want to let go of.
“V! Where is the cake going?” Luke’s voice booms from inside the tent.
“Go.” I nudge her toward the noise. “We can talk later. I’ll start handing out the appetizers.”
She scuffles away, and I’m left standing there. Staring at the ranch like it might give me answers. The high-pitched screaming of kids launching themselves off the bounce house while some tatted beast of a man launches himself right after them, arms wide, roaring like a grizzly.
I suck in a breath and square my shoulders.
Professional. You’re a professional today.
I duck into the tent and grab the silver tray of canapés. The smell hits me instantly—smoked salmon, cream cheese, dill—and my stomach snarls. I completely skipped breakfast.
I start weaving through the crowd. Cowboy hats everywhere. Big belt buckles. Pretty women draped on arms like accessories. I don’t fit in here. Not even a little. Not in my catering whites with my hair scraped back and zero ranch credentials.
I’m halfway to the group of suited men gathered beneath the old oak when my toe catches on a rock, and the ground rushes up to meet me.
A shriek tears out of my throat. But I don’t hit the dirt.
A strong hand catches me around the waist and hauls me upright. My ribs press against a hard forearm. Only two canapés tumble off the tray and hit the grass.
My face ignites. Full, scorching embarrassment. Because I know exactly whose hand is on my waist before I even lift my chin.
But I do. I have to.
Hunter Sterling is grinning down at me like I’m the single most entertaining thing that has ever happened to him. “City girl.” His voice is rough, meant only for me. “I need to get you some more appropriate boots.”
My eyes dart sideways. The suited men are watching; they look like the town lawyers. Every single one of them has their eyes on me. I try to pull away, but Hunter’s grip tightens, pulling me closer, his mouth brushing the curve of my cheek so lightly it could be an accident.
It isn’t.
“I’m fine,” I hiss through my teeth.
He chuckles, and the sound rolls through me like something I should run from.
This time, I twist my head and dare to look at him properly, and every rational thought I’ve ever had packs its bags and leaves.
Fuck, he’s gorgeous. The ink crawling up his neck makes him look dangerous.
He’s every woman’s filthiest daydream made into flesh.
And that kiss earlier? To die for. I’m screwed.
“Keep lookin’ at me like that, firefly,” he murmurs, thumb pressing into my hip, “I’ll kiss you right here, and I don’t give a shit who sees us.”
My eyes go wide.
“These are your people,” I say, remembering what Reese told me—how in a small town, reputation is currency. “You’re the one who cares what people think.”
He shakes his head slowly. A low growl rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest. “I couldn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me, baby. I only care what my son thinks, and he seems to think you’re his new friend,” he tells me, stretching out the word like it has a second meaning.
My eyes flutter shut. The words sink into me like heat, like something I haven’t known I’m starving for. And for one reckless second, I forget about the gawking men. Forget about the party. Forget about every wall I’ve built to keep people exactly where I want them—at arm’s length.
I open my eyes and look into his. Lost, yet found at the same time. I almost kiss him. Almost. “Perhaps you should care about your reputation, cowboy,” I breathe.
He chuckles, tongue dragging across his bottom lip like he’s savoring something only he can taste. “The only reputation that means anything to me is whether or not I proved a cowboy fucks better than any other man.”
My mouth falls open. Heat crawls up my throat and spreads across my collarbone like wildfire. “Hunter,” I whisper-hiss, shoving at his chest.
He leans in closer. His lips graze the shell of my ear, and I stop breathing. “Well?” He smiles, and I can feel it against my skin. “What did your research conclude about cowboys?”
I bite down on my lip so hard I taste copper. Then I straighten my spine, smooth my expression, and take one deliberate step back. “It was inconclusive.” I keep my voice maddeningly casual. “More research needs to be conducted to validate my findings, Mr. Sterling. Sir.”
His gaze drags up my body like he’s already conducting his own research. “What are you doing tonight?” he asks. It sounds casual, but his blue eyes tell a different story.
My heart slams against my ribs so hard I swear he can hear it. To hell with it. Violet is right. What do I have to lose? I need to live a little. And nothing has ever felt as right as standing in front of this man. “You.”
The word lands between us like a lit match. He nods like he already knew the answer. “I’ll see you later then, baby.”
When he tips his hat and winks at me, my knees damn near buckle.
I suck in a breath and try to plaster on my professional smile. But all I can think about is Hunter Sterling and everything he could do to me outside of a truck.
I can still feel his gaze burning between my shoulder blades as I walk away and over to the suited men. “Here you go,” I say brightly, holding out the tray. They reach for the food like nothing has happened.
And then I hear the footsteps.
I look up, and every ounce of warmth Hunter poured into me turns to ice. Reese is beelining straight for me. I’m a deer in headlights, completely frozen, brain scrambling for an exit that doesn’t exist. I pull the tray away from the men and step back.
“Ah. Reese! You made it!” One of the suited guys claps him on the shoulder like he’s been waiting all day for him.
Reese is wearing a grey suit with a black cowboy hat that looks… wrong on him. Like a costume. Like he’s googled “ranch party attire” and added to cart without a second thought.
I offer him a polite smile, the kind you give someone you’d rather not see, and hold out the tray.
“Hi, Lola.” He winks.
The silence that follows is deafening. Every man in the circle goes still.
Jesus. Not again.
“Hey. Nice to see you,” I say quietly.
His eyes track down my outfit with a possessiveness that makes every nerve in my body go on high alert. “I didn’t realize you worked for Violet now,” he says, plucking one of the salmon bites off the tray.
“Just helping her out,” I say, keeping it short and sweet. Don’t engage.
“Do you two know each other?” The guy with the long blond hair glances between us.
“He’s my landlord,” I blurt.
Reese lets out a rehearsed chuckle and steps beside me. His arm snakes around my waist like it belongs there.
It doesn’t. But as I try to move away, he tightens his hold.
“Landlord you’ve been going on dates with,” he corrects, voice firm enough that the whole group hears it.
I look up at him, and I swear my jaw almost hits the tray. I’m ready to crack him over the skull with it. What the hell is he doing?