Page 32 of Heart & Hope

I should resist, but he is so warm, and I berate myself for not remembering a jacket. When my shivers subside, he unfolds himself and drops to the ground in a crouch.

“Ah, what are you doing?”

“Get on. It’ll be warmer, and I can make it back to the truck faster.”

“I, no?—”

“Hop on, Robbins, you’re gonna freeze.”

Snatching up my phone from the grass, I sigh. “Fine.”

I climb on, and he pushes up and takes off into the dark down the path. He’s fast. And I laugh, letting the happiness that he brings rumble through my chest and fill my veins. His long strides see us back at the truck in half the time it took to get to the spring.

He lets me down, breathing heavy, and holds the door open. I turn back as I go to step inside and hesitate, hand suspended between us. His gaze drops to my lips. In the dim light, I could so easily kiss that gorgeous smile. Take his face in my hands and claim that mouth.

But we are friends. This thing between us is fake.

Totally pretend.

Made up.

Not real.

And I am fighting so hard to remember that.

Every single time he is this close.

Every time he opens his mouth with that goddamn cowboy drawl.

Every moment between us that’s deeper than a simple friendship.

I turn back and hop into the truck. The door closes, and I fix my gaze to the windscreen. The driver’s door opens closes as the truck dips a little with his weight. The engine rumbles to life. The headlights flick on. The only thing moving in this truck is our heavy breathing.

The burn of his eyes on me is scorching as I force each fiber in my body to still, resisting the urge to return the look. To touch. To tangle myself around him.

Because the line that wobbles between friendship and much more is blurring at a rapid rate in this head and heart of mine.

No, Ruby.

Rule number one.

Chapter Eight

REED

Ilie on the shortest sofa known to man, washed up and in my t-shirt and boxers. Guessing I’ll have a crick in my neck at the very least in the morning. The door to the bathroom is open an inch, and I stare at the ceiling as Ruby moves about in there, getting ready for her shower.

The springs were a good reprieve. And I’m glad I made her laugh, let her de-stress a little. She deserves a break. She deserves so much more from the people in her life. Period.

The rustle of clothes hitting the floor sees my gaze flick to the bathroom door.

Shit.

I force my eyes back, staring at the hideous popcorn ceiling and counting backward from one hundred. I shouldn’t look.

Ruby should shut the door.

And when she slips past the door on her way to the shower without a stitch on, I stifle the groan that rattles up my throat. I slam my eyes shut and force air into my lungs as my cock stretches my boxers. With loose underwear, it makes an unwanted hard-on that’s much more difficult to defuse.

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