Page 35 of When We Met

Holy shit. Negative degrees and Barron was out there shoveling snow? Every man I know wouldn’t have the balls to do that. They’d hire someone.

I stiffen, unsure what the reaction will be to me being in his house. “How long do you think it’s going to take with my car? I could… call a tow truck or something like that.”

Barron turns his head and looks at me over his shoulder when the girls move to the stove. There’s no emotion on his face. “I can take care of it.”

I bet you can, cowboy.

I don’t get a chance to say anything before Morgan bumps my shoulder with his. I met him last night as he was peeling Buck off my hood.

Morgan winks at me. “Thanks for filling my freezer.”

Your brother could fill me.

Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with me? Did I hit my head harder than I thought?

Barron’s eyes slide to mine as he leans into the counter. His eyes leisurely rake down my body, and I think maybe he might be thinking the same thing.

Why this town? Why him?

And the talk of every conversation I’m about to have today.

BARRON

Don’t think about her.

Do.

Not.

Think.

About.

Her.

Guess what? I totally am. In fact, I’m actively, obsessively, thinking about her. And the more I try, the harder it is to redirect my thoughts. I wonder things like what color her panties are and what she likes for dinner.

For hours this morning, I think about all the things I want to do to her and can’t. Shouldn’t.

I feed cattle. I lay out more hay. I play with the girls in the snow, freeze my ass off, and watch Kacy stare at the snow as though she’s never seen it before—all the while, Ican’tstop her from entering my brain.

And now I’m here, at the shop, still thinking. Contemplating. Arguing with myself that I don’t need to know the color of her panties. I don’t, right? Please say yes because I don’t know how to function. I feel like a damn teenager again, like when I finally took an interest in Tara and couldn’t go an hour without thinking of her naked. Well, fuck Tara and screw these thoughts. I’m not thinking about her.

I stare at the space she occupies in the office. I bet they’re red. Maybe pink. Black?

Fuck!

“Her car hurts,” Sev mumbles, staring at it.

“Don’t touch anything,” I remind her, a conversation we’ve had every day in this shop since she was old enough to walk and try to grab things. Remember when I said I’ve called poison control on her a number of times? Most have occurred in here. I made good friends with OSHA, believe me. And I’m really good at hiding my kids in storage closets when they show up.

With a handful of tools she’s already collected from my toolbox, Sev won’t look at me when she sighs. “I not.”

I call bullshit.

“Damn.” Jace whistles, yanking his beanie cap down over his ears and smiling. I hadn’t expected any of the guys to show up today, but you’re not going to stop these guys. “Did she punch it when she saw the buck?”

“Fuck if I know.” Running my hand through my hair, I try to keep my stare from lingering on the office where I know she is. “She seemed rattled for sure though.”

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