Page 6 of That Kiss

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he interrupts, standing up and reaching his hand toward me.

“O—okay.” I place my hand in his and he helps me up from the chair, his other hand coming to rest on the small of my back as he leads me down the steps and toward my car. Before I realize it, my keys are in his hand and he’s reaching around me to open the door.

“Thank you,” I laugh slightly, “such a gentleman.” I take the keys from his hands as his smile fades. He looks down at me, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes a step toward me. My shoulders are already against my car, so I have nowhere else to go.

“Not if I can help it.” His eyes are dark, focused on my lips.

My eyes drop to where he’s raising his hands, sliding one into my hair as the other comes to my waist. I’m in complete shock, and my heart thuds in my ears as his cologne hits my nose a second before his lips are on mine.

“Open your mouth for me,” he whispers against my lips. I’m about to ask if I’m dreaming, because finally, after years of imagining what this exact moment would feel like, he’s kissing me.

The kiss is soft, wet—almost sweet—before it suddenly turns hungry. His lips cover mine, his tongue sliding between them as he pulls my body against him, the thick, rigid evidence of his arousal pressing into my lower belly.

I’m drowning in ecstasy from a kiss. One single kiss. My toes curl inside my shoes, my hands still at my sides as my body melts against him. I’m not innocent by any means, but I have never been kissed like this by anyone, and if I had to bet, I’ll never be kissed this way again.

I’m seconds away from climbing his rugged, muscular body when he pulls his tongue from my mouth, his lips caressing mine gently two more times before he steps back, his fingers lingering on my chin as he stares down at me.

“I guess one thing hasn’t changed. Good night, Juniper. Have a safe drive back to Boulder.”

Chapter 3

Decker

Present Day . . .

“You happy here, Son?”

My father, Colton Slade, is a man of few words, always has been. He’s also always been extremely perceptive when it comes to us kids.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You sure about that?” He doesn’t turn to look at me, but he might as well have since it feels like he’s staring right through me. Instead, he takes a long sip of his coffee as he continues to look out the back window of my kitchen.

“I guess I could be happier. Why?” I poured my heart out to Ranger when I was home three months ago, but I know that stayed between us.

“I’m not blind, Son, and neither is your mother.” He turns, putting his coffee down on the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest, the “dad move” he always did when we were kids that signaled he wanted to talk to us “man to man.”

“I guess I didn’t anticipate how hard it would be living away from the family is all, but it’s nothing I can’t work through.”

He nods his head slowly. “There’s no use in staying miserable just to prove a point that doesn’t need to be proven, Deck.” I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up his hand. “Now listen, I know you wanted to prove to me and your brother that you could run this ranch, and you’ve more than proven that, but I need you back home. I need you to run Slade Ranch with your brother and your cousin. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Dad,” I start to protest, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

“I’m not saying this to guilt you into coming home, so get that out of your head right now. I’m saying this as a father who wants to spend more time with his grandkids, and a husband who wants to spend more time with his wife.”

“So was this your plan all along when you retired from running the brewery a few years ago?”

“Honestly, no. I was convinced I had another seven or more years left in me for the ranch, but after this last blood pressure scare, your mother—and my doctor—helped me realize it’s not worth it.”

“Are you taking your meds like you’re supposed to, Dad?”

“Don’t worry about it; your mother has it handled,” he says with a tinge of frustration in his voice. “Listen, with the help of the rest of your cousins, this ranch down here won’t miss a beat. You hired some of the finest cowboys I’ve seen, and they know what they’re doing.”

“Tyler and Ranger have it under control up there, Dad. Come on, there’s no point in me returning home just to be in their way.”

“You know, Deck,” he runs his hand over his jaw, another one of his moves from my childhood that let me know he was about to take a trip down memory lane, “when your uncles and I were younger—just starting to take over the brewery for Dad and really expanding the ranch—we all agreed on something. We decided that among the five of us boys and our kids someday, we wouldn’t have to be tied down to the business like my dad was. We’ve been blessed with a large family, Decker—a large family that values each other. I want you boys to manage the ranch so you can enjoy your kids while they’re young, and you can soak up every second with your future wife.”

I’ve never heard my dad talk this much. He’s a passionate man, having lost his first wife so young. Being a single father made him realize what he was passionate about. He had an auto repair shop for years when we were young. It was something he enjoyed doing, but as the Slade name and empire expanded from just Slade Brewing to Slade Industries International, he let it go to fully focus on the ranch and his board seat.

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