Page 152 of Burn the Wild

Wyatt scoffs. “Took you that long to figure it out?”

Charlie’s dark gaze lands on me. “No arguments from me.”

My heart burns inside my chest. “That girl might turn around and set my whole life on fire.”

Davis looks amused. “Is that good or bad?”

“I’ll let you know.” I grin, glad we’re finally on the same fucking page. “Now help me change.”

They all sigh but do what I say.

Twenty minutes later, Charlie drops me on the opposite side of the ranch.

My blood roars between my ears as I limp my way up to her chalet. I need Reese.

I need hernow.

Something inside me feels changed. Wrecked. Like it’ll never be the same. I’m alive because of Reese. Through it all, I never doubted her. I trusted her. A level of trust I’ve only had with my brothers.

The tight ball of tension in my gut unknots when I see her on the front porch of her chalet, key in hand. Flour dusts her cheekbones, and she’s in tight jeans and a Huckleberry T-shirt tied at the waist.

“Goin’ somewhere?’

At the sound of my voice, she jumps and drops the key. Surprise and relief flash in her emerald eyes. Instead of coming to me like I ache for her to do, she props her hand on her hip.

“Finally out and about, Country Boy?” She smiles lightheartedly, but I sense an edge. Her guard’s up.

Suddenly I’m pissed. She saved my life, and now she wants to give me a cold shoulder of the highest order. I don’t fucking think so.

“Where’ve you been?” I rasp, hating that she’s keeping her distance. Not now. Not when I fucking know what this is.

“They put me to work in the bakery,” she says with a little smile. “Odd-job queen over here. Looks like you might have some competition on the ranch.”

“That so?”

“Oh, it’s very so.” Her eyes flare with heat, and she crosses her arms like she’s actively stopping herself from reaching out.

I stare at her, heart hammering. “You still got your chickens?”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I love those stupid chickens.”

I take a step closer. “Reese…” My voice cracks.

And so does she.

Suddenly, she flings herself into my arms. Our breaths catch together, shaking us both.Thank god. Thank fucking god.

I squeeze my eyes shut, stroking her wild hair. “’Bout time you dropped the fucking attitude.”

“Tough,” she whispers. “It’s all yours.”

Yeah, it is.

She wraps her arms tighter around my neck, doing her damndest to cut off my air supply. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“Sounds like you were worried about me, Birdie Girl.”

She laughs, her breath a warm pulse against my throat. “You’re hard on the heart, Country Boy.”

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