Page 63 of Every Promise Broken

Like hold him again.

Or kiss him.

I clear my throat and blink away those thoughts. The back of my neck heats, like he can somehow hear what’s floating through my mind. I’ve seen the way he looks at me; I know I’mnot the only one having thoughts like this, but that doesn’t make it any better. I’m fifteen years older than him, and he’s barely eighteen. I shouldn’t be looking at him in that way at all.

We don’t stay in the creek long. After we spend a few minutes cooling off, we climb out and air dry for a minute before getting dressed.. On our way back to the ATV, the air is tense between us, and I wonder if he can feel it too. Neither of us says anything, but I can feel it. Climbing behind the wheel, I turn the key, waiting for Whit to slide in so we can go. It’s been a long, hot day, and a shower sounds nice right about now. Maybe it’ll also tamp down the feelings swirling around inside of me.

It's wrong. I have no business looking at Whit the way I have been. And what’s even more frustrating is I don’t understand where it’s coming from. Being around him has never beenunpleasantper se, but I didn’t exactly look forward to it… until now, that is.

Whit climbs in beside me, and after letting out a frustrated huff, I take off, driving us back to the barn. I need to get away from him and clear my head. Parking on the side of the barn, I climb out and grab the bag of tools from the back, charging into the barn to put them away so I can get the hell inside already.

“Conrad.” I hear him say my name, but I ignore it. I have to.

I toss the tool bag on the shelf in the office, breathing out a sigh when I hear footsteps following me.

“Conrad, hello!”

Spinning on my heel, I come face to face with him. “What, Whit?” I ask exasperatingly, feeling like shit about it, because it’s not his fault.

“Did I do something?” he asks, his voice small as he holds my gaze.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

My heart races, stomach tightening. I need to get out of here.

“Then what’s the matter? You were fine, and then after we left the creek, you tensed up.”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me,” he pushes, then a smile curls his lips. “You made me tell you back there, so now you have to tell me too.”

“Whit.” I scrub a hand over the coarse hair covering my jaw. “I can’t. It’s fine.”

His big green eyes gaze up at me as he takes a step closer. “Please?”

My nostrils flair as I exhale a heavy breath. He takes another step, then one more, putting him right in front of me. With our height difference, he has to crank his head back to look at me, and as he bites down on his bottom lip, I snap. My hand flies up, wrapping around the back of his neck, and as he gasps, I crash my mouth down on his, stealing his breath, feeling it instantly revitalize me. Tongue surging past his parted lips, I greedily taste him, knowing this is wrong but not giving a damn because it also feels so fucking right.

It takes a moment, but eventually he kisses me back. It’s unsure and more than a little awkward, but boy, does he kiss me back. His hands come up, grappling at the shirt on my sides, melting into my touch, and I don’t know how much time passes before we finally pull apart, but when we do, it hits me like a freight train.

I shouldn’t have done that, but I can’t find a single part of me that regrets it.

Kissing Whit felt like waking up, and I’m already thinking about when I can make it happen again, consequences be damned.

24

Whit Bowman

Conrad wasn’t lying about the weather. Between the thick flakes dumping out of the sky and the wind blowing at high speeds, I don’t know how I make it home in one piece. By the time I park outside of the barn, my knuckles are white and my hands ache from gripping the steering wheel so tight.

It’s not quite a blizzard yet, but it looks like it’s headed that way. Wrapping my arms around myself, I jog quickly toward the front door, breathing a sigh of relief when I step inside and feel the warmth surround me. After I shrug out of my coat and kick off my shoes, I walk farther into the house in search of where everyone is.

As I round the corner, I spot Conrad in the kitchen, pulling what looks to be a pizza out of the oven. He must hear me walk in, because he glances up, meeting my gaze.

“Oh, good, you’re home,” he mutters, then releases a breath. “It’s getting nasty out there.”

My chest clenches at how domestic this feels, hownormal. Seeing him in the kitchen as I come from work like we did so many times before. It scares me how much I like it.

“It is. The drive home was dicey.” I grab a wineglass out of the cabinet before finding a bottle of wine. “Where’s your nana?”

---