Page 57 of Burn the Wild

No one like Ford, that’s for sure. He’s handsome, and older than most men I typically date. Masculine and rugged. Unpolished, yet sexy as hell with his cocky attitude and those amber eyes that crinkle at the corners.

Jaw locked tight, Ford asks, “Why do you stay with this guy?”

Because I’m afraid. Because I don’t know anything else.

Instead of that, I say, “I don’t have a choice. I have a contract.” I let out a shaky breath. “I need to go over it. Which means I need to get it.”

Muscles ripple in his cheek. “Let me guess, he has it.”

“He does.” Frustration slams inside of me. I wish I had never told Ford. I feel stupid enough as it is. “I called him last night, and he gave me until the end of the summer to…” I trail off.

“To?” Questions swim in Ford’s eyes.

What do I tell him? To not have a mental breakdown? To reclaim my life? To just fucking be?

“To live,” I say, my gaze drifting longingly toward the window. To a ranch I haven’t even explored. “I need it. I just…really need it, is all.”

I set my fork down and push my plate away. Ford doesn’t look happy. “But I can go somewhere else.” A teasing smile tilts my lips. “I know you have better things to do than babysit a spoiled, pampered, pain-in-the-ass princess.”

Regret widens his eyes. “Listen. I wasn’t nice to you, and we’re gonna start over, okay?”

I shake my head, because I don’t want pity. It’s bad enough he swooped in to save me last night. “Ford, you don’t—”

“Nah.” He folds his muscular arms across his chest and leans back in his chair. “What would my little brother say if I turned you out? Wouldn’t be very cowboy of me.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Cowboy, huh?”

“Tell you what.” His teeth sink into his lush lower lip as he considers something. A low pulse blooms in my core. I hate that it turns me on. “Why don’t you come with me to town this morning?”

“I don’t want to keep you from your job,” I say.

“You are my job, honey,” he drawls. But instead of feeling irritation, all I feel is heat. In my stomach, between my thighs.

He flashes a bright white grin. Those broad shoulders, that swagger—Ford Montgomery’s a charmer. It just won’t work on me.

“I need to head into town to fix a saddle, anyway,” he says, standing and collecting my plate. He takes it to the sink. “Since you’re staying, you need things, don’t you? Can’t feed the chickens in sequins.”

I laugh. “I bet I could.”

He approaches the table, his amber eyes searching my face. “Talked to my brother last night. He said one of the things you need is a hug.”

I bristle. “A hug?”

He takes a step forward. “What do you think?”

I open my mouth to laugh, then stop short at the half-smile on his face.

“You’re serious?”

His Adam’s apple bobs and then bobs again. “One hug never killed anybody.”

“Oh.”

One hug. I can do one hug.

I rise, feeling a bit shaky, and shuffle toward him.

Gaze locked on mine, he steps into me. My palms land on his bare chest and every nerve ending in my body sparks. Ford’s breath hitches.

---