Page 43 of When We Break

I let out a long breath, willing the butterflies in my stomach to calm the hell down.

I can’t help glancing over my shoulder to where Riley’s curled up, already snoring, in the back of the truck.

“I need our guy to be comfy.”

I shake my head. One date. We’ve spent such a short time together, yet he’s gone out of his way to ensure I feel safe. That my dog feels safe and welcome. It’s surreal and so unexpected.

“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. I love how his whiskers feel against my skin as he presses soft kisses on my knuckles.

“Riley and I are buddies,” he says. “We have to look out for each other.”

I let him keep my hand as he drives us out of town to his property, and when he has to put a code in, and we wait for a gate to open, some of the tension leaves my shoulders.

“The Arsehole is back in the States,a stór. And he’s been googling you.”

“You have security.”

“I do,” he says with a nod. “I have quite a lot to protect out here. Does this make you feel more at ease?”

“Honestly, yes.”

“Good. You’re safe out here. Nothing will hurt you.” He drives down a gravel road and pulls up to a stunning farmhouse you’d expect to see in a movie.

The two-story charmer has a deep, wraparound porch complete with hanging swings and furniture that looks like you could nap away an entire summer afternoon in the soft cushions.

“Beckett, this is beautiful. Homey. How many naps have you taken on that porch?”

He blinks over at me. “None.”

“What? That’s criminal. It’s begging for naps.”

He laughs and kisses my hand again. “Do you nap often?”

“No, but I’m telling you right now that this porch was made for lazy summer afternoons, with a cool drink, a book, a breeze, and a refreshing sleep.”

He follows my gaze. “When you put it that way, I can picture it. I’ll give you a tour of the rest of the ranch tomorrow since it’s about to get dark.”

I hop out of the truck. Beck lets Riley out and leads us up the porch steps to the front door. He opens one side of the double door, and I can’t help but grin.

“Are those cows etched in the glass?” I ask, nodding to the frosted glass in the door.

He nods and grins.

“Of course. Welcome,” he says before he picks up my bag and follows us in. “Nothing in this house is off-limits to you, so make yourself at home. I mean that.”

“Thank you.”

He sets my bag at the bottom of the stairs, then takes my hand and leads me back to the kitchen. The house is beautiful, with vintage and modern touches that make it feel like a home.

When I see that Beck not only bought Riley’s food but also bought him a raised feeder with big bowls for food and water, my heart catches.

Across the room, there’s another new bed, similar to the ones in the truck, and Riley stomps over after getting a big drink of water, making a mess on the floor, and curls up on the bed.

“Well, Riley’s made himself at home.” I laugh and grab a towel off the countertop so I can wipe up my dog’s mess.

“Good. That was my plan.” Beckett wraps his arms around me from behind and brushes my hair to the side so he can press his mouth to the crook of my neck. “Thank you for being here.”

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