Page 49 of No Turning Back
The morning light slants through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the floor where Blue has stretched out in a patch of sun. I watch her for a moment, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, and wonder how many ghosts this old house holds.
"Maybe that's why you haven't opened the bunkhouse," I say softly. "Maybe part of you isn't ready."
Sam's eyes find mine across the counter. "Maybe." He takes a long sip of his coffee, then sets it down with a decisive thunk. "But I can't keep living around the edges of this place forever."
Something in his voice makes my chest tighten. There's a determination there that wasn't there before, like he's made up his mind about more than just clearing out an old building.
I look at him, really look at him, and something shifts in my chest. The weight of his family's history, the ghosts of this place, and suddenly I don't want to leave. Not for work, not for anything.
"I could stay," I say, my fingers ghosting over the callouses in his palm.
Sam's eyes widen, then darken as he takes my hand in his. The rough texture of his skin against mine sends electricity up my arm. I can't remember the last time I felt this, this pull, this gravity.
He leans in slowly, deliberately, his lips ghosting over my face. His beard tickles my chin, and I can't help the small gasp that escapes me.
"You should go," Sam murmurs right before our lips touch, "before I don't let you leave."
But I don't move away. Instead, I close the distance between us. His lips are soft, contrasting with the scratch of his beard, and I sink into him like I've been drowning and he's my first breath of air. His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone.
When we break apart, I'm breathless, dizzy.
"I should go," I murmur against his lips, my fingers still tangled in his.
He takes my lips again, this kiss deeper than the first, stealing whatever resolve I had left. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark, intense.
"Have a good day," he says, voice rough.
I nod, unable to trust my voice, and turn around. Each step feels heavier than the last as I make my way upstairs, not daring to look back. I'm afraid if I do, I won't leave, and neither will he. The weight of what just happened sits heavy in my chest, a mix of exhilaration and terror.
In my room, I press my back against the closed door, fingers touching my lips where I can still feel the pressure of his. What just happened? What am I doing? One minute I'm calling my ex-husband's friend to bail him out, the next I'm kissing my friend and roommate, my very off-limits, very complicated friend with family ghosts and a ranch to rebuild.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, jolting me back to reality. I check the screen and curse, a reminder for my eight o'clock appointment with a new client. How could I forget?
I rush through a shower, trying not to think about Sam's lips or the way his hands felt on my face. The hot water doesn't wash away the confusion, but at least it gets me moving.
When I come downstairs, there's no sign of Sam. The kitchen is empty, coffee mugs gone, Blue's corner vacant. Probably for the best. What would I even say to him after that kiss?
I grab an apple from the fruit bowl and head out to my car, my stomach too twisted to handle anything more substantial. The morning air is cool against my still-flushed skin as I slide behind the wheel.
On the drive into the city, I tap Kate's number on my phone. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright with morning energy I definitely don't share.
"Hey, stranger! I was just thinking about you."
"You're not going to believe the morning I've had," I say, keeping one hand on the wheel as I navigate a turn.
"Try me."
So first I tell her about Markus being arrested.
Her answer, “I’m not surprised, he’s been leaving some weird voicemails on Aiden’s phone. Though drinking and driving, what an idiot."
I grip the steering wheel tighter. "Right? Like, who drives drunk these days? There's literally an app for that."
“God,” she sighs. “Did he ruin your morning?”
My heart skips. "Well, no. Actually..." I take a deep breath. "Sam and I kissed."
The shriek that comes through my phone speaker is so piercing I nearly swerve off the road as her voice blasts off the car speakers.
