Page 52 of Burn the Wild

“It’s good with Gavin. At least it was.” Her shoulders sag as if defeated. “Back when I liked my life.”

“Is that what you’re doing here? New life?”

“Something like that. Maybe I’ll be plain Jane, and I’ll matter to someone out there in the wilds of Montana.”

I soften when I glance over at her. She stares out the window, her wild curls fanned out over the passenger seat. “Nothin’ plain about you, honey.”

“I wish there was,” she murmurs. “Sometimes I feel so far from the little girl on that Georgia farm singing country songs with her mama and daddy just to earn a buck. Sometimes I feel so…so…”

“Lonely?”

“Lost,” she says.

My stomach bottoms out. Instinct bellows at me to ask more, to comfort her, but she’s quiet, her eyes closed, so I leave it at that.

I turn toward the ranch at last, my truck rattling down the long gravel road. Despite telling myself she should go back to her chalet, I head for my place.

I park and exit the truck. The night settles around me as I cross to the passenger door, leaning over to unbuckle her seat belt.

She opens her huge green eyes and looks up at me. We’re close. Inches apart. Her long lashes bat, and her gaze lowers to my lips.

“Hi, Country Boy,” she whispers.

I should hate the nickname—hate what it does to me. How it carves me into fucking pieces, making my heart still and sped up at the same time.

“Hi.” I stroke the sweaty hair off her brow.

My chest hitches. Up close, guard down, she’s stunning.

“I’ll carry you,” I say, snapping out of the hungry trance.

She giggles and lifts her arms. “Carry away.” I move closer, an arm wrapping around her slender waist. She smells like petrichor and peaches. Sadness and light. The juxtaposition has me off kilter for a minute.

Then her velvety arms slip around my neck.

I cradle her featherlight form in my arms. The full moon illuminates our trek to the garage. Carefully, I climb the steps up to my apartment. Inside, I set her down gently on my bed. A black shadow scurries across the bedroom. Mouse.

Reese blinks, tilts her head. “Why are we at your place?”

I feel slightly sick to my stomach that it was this easy to get her up here. That anyone could have taken advantage of her.

“I don’t want you alone.” I set a bottle of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand. “See? We got the good stuff.”

With curious eyes, she sniffs the air. “Your place is a garage.”

“I live above it. Makes the working day easier.”

Kneeling, I slip off her heels and do my best to ignore her silky skin, her pink-painted toes. I eye her sequined dress doubtfully. “You want to sleep in something that’s not scratchy as fuck?” I ask, hating myself.

When she arches a suspicious brow, I lift a hand. “Ain’t tryin’ to get you naked, honey, just gettin’ you comfortable.” I grab a clean T-shirt from a drawer. “I won’t look.”

She nods.

“Arms up, baby.”

I reach for the hem of her dress, lifting it off. I avert my eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of her lace panties. The gentle curve of her creamy, full breasts.

Fuck.

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