Page 9 of The Rancher's Runaway Bride
Hell, it’s been so long since I fell for anyone, I hardly remember what it feels like. But it’s starting to feel like I’m falling for her.
When we’re done, she stands, wiping her hands on my flannel. “See? Not so hard.”
I rise slowly, my knee protesting the movement. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugs, leaning against the stall door. “I wanted to.”
Her eyes meet mine, and the air between us shifts, heavy with something unspoken. I can feel it—the pull, the tension. It’s been there since the day she showed up, but tonight, it’s different. Sharper. More urgent.
“You’re good with him,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “The horse.”
She smiles softly, her gaze steady. “I like animals. They’re easier to read than people.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, looking away. “Guess that’s true.”
Silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable. I should walk away, put some distance between us before this goes too far, but my feet won’t move. Instead, I find myself talking, the words spilling out before I can stop them.
“My sister used to be good with horses,” I say, my voice low. “She was the one who taught me how to handle them. Carson’s mom.”
Layla straightens, her smile fading. “Oh yeah? It seems like you don’t talk about her much.”
I shrug, keeping my gaze on the ground. “Not much to say. She was... struggling for a long time. The pain meds made her a different person. It got bad.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. Something about this woman makes me want to open up, reveal the things I’ve kept locked inside my heart for too long. And her calm and comforting presence makes me think she wouldn’t judge me if I did. She’s dangerous for a guy like me, plain and simple.
“She was lucky to survive the crash,” I continue, the words feeling like stones in my throat. “Carson was still in diapers when it happened–truth be told I took over then–long before she even overdosed. Used to drop him off at daycare everymorning and pick him up at night, make him dinner while she laid on the couch nursing her pain. Life just…broke her. It’s been just him and I for five years now. He doesn’t even remember her, so there’s lots of pictures around the house. Doin’ what I can to keep her memory alive.”
Her hand brushes my arm then, light and tentative, and it’s all I can do not to flinch. “You’ve done an incredible job with him, Cal. Carson’s an amazing little boy.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’ve got much to do with that. He’s just a good kid. Always has been.”
“You’re selling yourself short.”
Her voice is firm, and when I finally look at her, there’s something in her eyes that makes my chest ache. It’s not pity—it’s understanding. Respect. Like she sees me, really sees me, in a way no one else ever has.
The moment stretches, the silence between us humming with unspoken words. I should say something, break the tension, but my throat feels tight, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’m not used to this—being vulnerable, letting someone in. It’s foreign and terrifying, and yet, with her, it feels... right.
“You’re good for him,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Carson. He needs someone like you.”
She blinks, surprised. “Someone like me?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Someone who knows how to make him laugh. A woman who cares about him.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak, and for a moment, I think maybe I’ve said too much. But then she steps closer, her gaze locked on mine, and the air around us feels charged, electric.
“Cal,” she murmurs, her voice soft but steady.
I swallow hard, every instinct screaming at me to back away, to shut this down before it’s too late. But I can’t. Not when she’sstanding there, looking at me like that. Like she’s waiting for me to make the first move.
I take a step forward, closing the distance between us. My hand brushes her cheek, my thumb grazing her jawline, and she doesn’t pull away. Her breath hitches, her eyes searching mine, and in that moment, I know I’m done for.
“Layla,” I whisper, my voice rough with need.
And then, before I can think better of it, I’m kissing her. Slow and deep, like I’m trying to memorize the taste of her, the feel of her. She responds instantly, her hands tangling in my shirt, pulling me closer.
It’s everything I’ve been holding back, all the frustration and longing and unspoken desire spilling over in one perfect, chaotic moment. I lose myself in her, in the way she presses against me, her warmth, her softness. She’s fire and light and everything I didn’t know I was missing.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, our foreheads resting together. She’s smiling, her cheeks flushed, and for the first time in a long time, I feel... whole.
