Page 16 of Let Her Buck

All I know is that I want more.

When he finally pulls away, he keeps his forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing like we just ran a marathon.

“I’m not letting you go,” he whispers.

My heart thuds so hard I think he might feel it through my dress.

“Good,” I whisper back. “Because I don’t want you to.”

His grin is slow, wicked, and so damn beautiful it makes something flutter deep in my belly. Then he steps back, tips his hat at me, and holds out his hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I don’t hesitate. I step forward and slip my hand into his, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.

He doesn’t know it yet, but I’d follow him anywhere.

Chapter Six

West

The night’s winding down, but hell if I want it to end.

The air’s cooler now, the scent of trampled hay and fried dough lingering in the air. We’ve walked a good distance from the crowd, but Laney’s still holding my hand. Like she means to.

And damn it if that doesn’t do something to me.

She looks up at me with those bewitching green eyes, her smile still dancing on the edge of her lips like she knows something I don’t. Like she sees something in me…something good.

I squeeze her hand a little tighter.

Maybe I’m a fool. Maybe I’m worse. Because I don’t want to let her go. I want to keep her wrapped around me, right where she is now, soft and warm and close enough I can feel her pulse through her fingers.

But after tonight…what happens?

Doubt starts to creep in, slowly but surely, slipping through the walls of indifference I’ve built over the years. And it pisses me off more than I’d like to admit.

I shouldn’t want her like this. Not when I’ve got nothing solid to offer. Not when my life is a mess of circuits and rides and badnights I don’t talk about. Not when she’s all stars and softness and quiet strength I don’t deserve.

She’s young. Fresh-faced and bright-eyed and way too good for me. And yet she’s looking at me like I’m the sun she’s been circling her whole damn life.

It messes with my head.

A part of me—the scared, half-broke part that’s been burned too many times—wants to end this before it starts. Call it what it was: a one-night summer fling, fleeting attraction. Pretend it doesn’t matter. Pretend she doesn’t matter.

But her fingers are laced with mine, and she’s still holding on.

She does matter.

“Everything okay?” she asks softly.

I force a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Just…thinkin’ I should check on Beans.”

She arches her brows at me. “Beans?”

“My horse,” I say, trying not to grin like an idiot. “A honey brown stud with the most beautiful eyes. You’d like him. He’s got attitude too.”

She lets out a laugh that makes my chest squeeze. “Wait…is he at the Dawson stable?”

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