Page 47 of Beautiful Exile

“I don’t need to try it to know it’s gross.”

I plucked up another fry and dipped it in my shake. I held my hand under the concoction as I extended it to her. Arden shook her head, making a face.

I just grinned. “Chicken.”

That had the fire lighting again. Arden opened her mouth, and I slid the fry inside. Her lips closed around it, and I watched, transfixedas she chewed. Slowly, her brows lifted, and her expression shifted into delighted surprise.

“Good?” I didn’t know what it said that everything hung on her enjoyment of my favorite eccentricity.

A smile stretched across her face as she shook her head. “Damn you, Cowboy. Now, I’m a weirdo who likes dunking my french fries in milkshakes.”

“I think you’ll survive.” I leaned forward, my thumb swiping across her bottom lip where a speck of milkshake remained.

Arden’s lips parted as she took a sharp breath. Our eyes locked, and need swirled in hers, making the violet deepen to nearly black. My thumb stilled, resting on that perfect swell of her mouth, relishing the delicate silkiness beneath my callused fingertip.

Arden leaned in, and my hand slid along her jaw, fingers tangling in her upset hair. God, I needed to taste her, to know if it would grab hold the same way her art did, showing no mercy. Closer. So close our breaths mingled.

Brutus let out a demanding bark.

Arden startled, jerking back and out of the haze we’d both been lost in. She let out a laugh, her cheeks heating. “He’s mad. I’ve usually given him a fry by now.”

I sent Brutus a frustrated stare. “I’m not sure he deserves one,” I mumbled.

Damn dog was a cockblock.

18

ARDEN

A whirringsound chipped away at my skull like an ice pick. I blinked against the mostly darkened room, trying to get my bearings and figure out what the hell the sound was. I stared up at my ceiling, awareness seeping into me. Most people would think it was weird, my thick emerald blackout curtains cutting out any glimmer of sunlight, only to have a nightlight in the corner. But it worked.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I sat up, and Brutus lifted his head from his dog bed. My eyes burned, and I fumbled for the drops on my nightstand. The sensation wasn’t new. My typical lack of sleep meant that I bought the drops in bulk. Only last night, my lack of sleep wasn’t due to nightmares.

I’d tossed and turned, replaying thatalmostkiss in my mind. The way Linc’s thumb felt as it grazed my lip. How the roughened pads of his fingertips skated across my jaw. The way my skin heated as his hand slid into my hair.

My nipples pebbled beneath my worn tee, the buds tighteningagainst the soft fabric.Fucking hell.I shoved to standing, annoyance sweeping through me. I needed to get a grip.

The whirring, grinding sound intensified as if to callbullshit. Striding across my bedroom, I threw open the door and stalked down the hall, Brutus trailing behind me. But I came up short as I reached the kitchen and living area.

The house wasn’t large, but I didn’t need it to be. Even though it was smaller, the open-concept design, along with the massive windows, made the space feel larger. Inviting. And the sage green walls complemented the view, giving the space a peaceful air.

But there was nothing peaceful about what greeted me now.

Linc stood at my island, hand braced on a blender, the sleeves of a blue button-down rolled up, exposing tan, muscular forearms. His hair was darker, almost black now, making me realize it was damp from a shower. My mouth went dry as my gaze dipped, taking in the dark-wash jeans that hugged his hips and worn boots that didn’t feel like something a god of money would wear.

But that was Linc. A series of unexpected surprises. Always keeping me on my toes.

The blender cut off, and I glared at the man in my kitchen. Glared for so many reasons. But most of all because he was making mefeel. “Do you know what time it is?” I growled.

As if he’d already known I was there, Linc didn’t look my way. Instead, he glanced at his watch—an antique gold piece. Not perfect, but full of dings and scratches that told a story, just like my truck did. “It’s almost eight.”

“That’s practically dawn,” I muttered. “Some of us weretryingto sleep.” I gestured to Brutus, who simply trotted over to Linc for pets. Traitor.

Linc’s lips twitched as he scratched behind Brutus’s ears. “And some of us have been up for hours. Did some work. Fed your horses. Got some supplies from the main house since all you had in your fridge were energy drinks and eighty-two condiments. Oh, and some leftover Chinese that was questionable at best.”

My scowl only deepened. “You never know what kind of hot sauce you’ll need.”

He chuckled and reached for the blender pitcher. “Fair enough.”

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