Page 45 of Live, Ranch, Love

A small part of me kind of hopes they did because then I could look at them again later.

But before I can check, Aurora lunges and snatches the phone from my hand. “Oh no! Eyes on the road, Hensley.”

I shoot a scowl at her and make a futile attempt to get my phone back, but the way she’s grinning at me, laugh chiming like silver bells, melts away any disdain. I huff, and struggle against my responding smile as I over-emphasise placing my hand back on the wheel.

From the corner of my eye, I can see the screen lighting up Aurora’s face, her long eyelashes casting shadows over the apples of her cheeks. “Ooh, you’ve got a text from Holly.”

“Really?” My body tenses.

“Want me to read it?” Aurora offers, voice laced with mischief.

I shoot her a narrowed look. “Only if you don’t reply and call her Polly again.”

Aurora throws her head back in a fit of laughter, which elicits even a chuckle from me. I swear every emotion is doubled in Aurora—if something is funny, she’s cackling, if something makes her happy, her smile is brighter than the morning sun. It makes me feel like I’ve been missing out on life sometimes.

“The password is 031570.”

Aurora taps away. “Someone’s birthday?”

“Mom’s. Mine is November seventh.”

“I knew you were a Scorpio! So brooding and mysterious.” I haven’t a clue what she’s on about, but the way Aurora’s voice deepens in a sultry way when she says brooding and mysterious is far too sexy.

“Okay, it says ‘Was so good to see you tonight. Best of luck with your new friend’. Oh my God—new friend—that’s so funny. I’m dying. But I’m also so proud because clearly we riled her up.” Aurora does some weird-ass little wiggle that I’m guessing is her attempt at a victory dance in her seat.

Another laugh bubbles out of my chest, warmth following it. My cheeks ache from how she keeps making me smile. My face isn’t used to it. I normally limit myself to one smile a day.

That went out the window once Aurora turned up, though.

Damn.

“Oh my God, you even have me as Aurora Jones in your phone. That’s so formal.”

“Stop going through my phone, Aurora.” I swipe out to try grab it again, failing when she scoots out of my reach, giggling.

“Too slow! Why don’t you call me Rory?”

I shrug. Originally, it felt too friendly, and we both know that was not how things started off between us. “You said most people call you Rory.”

“Yeah? You don’t want to be like most people?”

I don’t want to be like most people to her anymore. But I can’t say that. I’m still grappling with the truth of that which I’ve evidently been trying to hide even from myself. And that’s even harder to do when she’s sat across from me. It makes me incredibly grateful when we finally hit the last stretch of country road home.

I grunt in response.

Then Aurora gasps and bobs her legs excitedly. “I know exactly what we need to do. We need to make it Instagram official.” Suddenly, she’s shuffling around in the seat, twisting to lean on me, and holding the phone out in front of us. “Smile!”

I try to duck out of the picture. “You just had a go at me for looking at my phone while driving and now you want me to take my eyes off the road for a selfie?”

“Oh, Wyatt, come on.” Aurora rests her head on my shoulder, pouting while her big hazel eyes glisten up at me. It takes far too much self-control to rip my gaze away from her, so that we don’t veer off the road. Otherwise, I think I could stare into those golden pools of honey, so sweet and enticing, forever.

“Fine,” I grumble, because her smile that follows lights me up.

Aurora counts down from three and I quickly flash a half-smile at the camera, while she throws up a peace sign and a toothy grin. Giggling to herself, Aurora slides back into her seat properly, my body sagging from the loss of contact. She’s typing furiously at the screen as we pull through the arch to the ranch, then makes a little hum of satisfaction and shoves my phone in the drink holder of the centre console.

Once we reach the main house, I help Aurora out of the car, walking her to the front door. Her eyelids look heavy, blinks getting slower as she opens the door and leans against the frame.

“You gonna be alright?” I ask, struggling to keep in my laugh at how adorably sleepy and drunk she looks. I hate that I can’t go in and cuddle her into a slumber.

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