Page 54 of Chasing Home

I smirk. “Surprised?”

“Not at all,” she says, finally drifting her eyes back up to mine. “Three minutes.”

“So little faith in me, Rory,” I tease, swaying even closer.

She rolls her eyes, and damn, I think her attitude turns me on even more. “What do I get when I win the bet?”

“When?” I blow out a long breath and reach behind her to grip the edge of the sink. The move brings us too close to pretend it’s just my heart thumping like crazy. “No, darlin’. If you win.”

“If I win, what do I get?” she corrects herself.

“Name it.”

Her brow curves. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Wanda’s number.” It’s said so gently I wonder if she’s scared of me hearing her properly. “I want Wanda’s number. If you have it. If you don’t, can you ask for it? I don’t want anyone to know that I’m looking for it. For her.”

My chest aches at her nervousness. At the pain that swells in her voice.

“Deal,” I say.

Relief ripples across her expression. “What do you want if you win?”

I don’t need to think about it. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” she echoes, eyes wide.

“That surprises you?”

“Well . . . no. I guess not. But you could have had anything.”

“There’s nothin’ else I want.”

Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink, and my heart thumps in answer. “Better get to it, then.”

With a low laugh, I take a step back and take her hand in mine. Holding her finger up beneath the domed, yellow ceiling light, I find the nearly sliver in the pad of it and abandon the tweezers in the sink.

“Don’t forget the timer,” I remind her when I feel her eyes burying themselves into my face and bring her finger to press between my lips.

She shifts, slipping her phone out and setting a timer as her pink cheeks grow apple red. “Go.”

It only takes me a handful of full breaths to slide her finger into my mouth and suck on the tip, my tongue swiping over the sliver once before it comes out. Far less than a minute. With the sliver on my tongue, I slide her finger free and wink at her.

“How did I do?”

Her glower and red cheeks are answer enough. “Is that how you get slivers out of all the ranch hands’ fingers too?”

“Nah, just you, darlin’. You’re the only one special enough for that treatment. The others get jabbed with tweezers because they don’t know how to stand still and let me work. Stubborn mules, those guys.”

“Are you saying that you aren’t stubborn?”

“Depends,” I say, flashing my best innocent smile, knowing my dimple’s out.

“Right. Well, you won fair and square. I suppose you want to claim your prize?”

I shake my head, bringing her finger to my lips. Goosebumps grow over her skin. With a soft kiss to the red, inflamed skin, I declare, “Not quite yet. I’ve got plans for my prize, and they don’t include claimin’ it just yet.”

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