Page 32 of The Last Dance You Saved
My hand found my lips. They tingled from the force of his, warm and delightfully bruised.
I was grateful for the night sky and that, with the moon behind me, it would be my face that was now cast in shadows so he couldn’t see my embarrassment. Humiliation at my ridiculous thoughts, and how easily I’d responded to his touch, and how he’d once again pushed me away as if I’d stolen the kiss from him.
“That’s twice you’ve started something you didn’t finish, Slick. Either do the job right or don’t bother to do it at all.” I whirled around and continued up the path at a much faster pace.
He kept up damn well for being in those stupid shoes, and we soon left the falls behind, the sound disappearing as the trees thinned and the fields around the house emerged. I sped up, almost jogging in my attempt to get away from him, to shut myself in my room and leave behind the fire burning in me. To forget the absolutewantthat had been replaced with humiliation.
Even if I wanted him, I couldn’t have him. So imagining fates or wee folk having brought us together was just ridiculousness. We had more reasons tonotbe together than simply him not trusting me. Our lives would never line up. I lived in Tennessee, not in Vegas or California or even on the West Coast. I may be scrambling to find my place in this world, but that didn’t mean I’d leave my home permanently in order to find it. I’d always want to keep the people I loved close. I wanted to leave a mark on my community, not run from it to follow a man.
So, whatever this was that burned between Rafe and me, it wasn’t a forever after. It wasn’t the gods sending me a sign. It wasn’t even close to that. It was meaningless. It was nothing.
“Sadie,” he called out to me as I reached the back door, and I ignored it. I swept into the mudroom that led into the laundry before racing into the sea of corridors running from the back to the front of the house. I’d almost reached the stairs before he grabbed me, hauling me to a stop. “Tennessee…”
I looked purposely from his face down to his hand with as much disdain as I could. “Let me go.”
“Nothing good can come of us finishing what we started.” Why did his words hurt even when I agreed with them? “But I won’t deny wanting to.” Astonishment drew my eyes back to his. When I didn’t say anything, couldn’t because I’d lost my voice, he continued in a controlled tone that took away the passion the words might have held. “We’ll both be here for the week. Maybe it’s what we both need. To finish what we started so we can leave it behind us.”
“What—” My voice cracked, and I hated it because I didn’t want to seem weak in front of him. “What are you suggesting?”
“A night. Maybe a few nights. And then you go back to Tennessee, and I go on with my life.”
“You don’t even trust me.”
“I don’t have to trust you to want you. I don’t have to trust you to quench this thirst. You stay out of my life, and I’ll stay out of yours, but we can at least walk away satisfied.”
Would doing what he suggested, spending a night or two wrapped in his arms, be any different than the one-night stand I’d originally planned? We’d have sex, get the relief we both sought, and then I’d, hopefully, leave him and the ranch behind. Was I willing to take the risk I wouldn’t be able to forget him?
“What about”—I waved my hand up the stairs—“the other people here?”
“I’m not staying in the house. There’s a cabin down past the stables that used to belong to our horse trainer. I practically lived there as a kid.” He clamped his lips together as if I’d drawn another truth from him, more revelations of his past, when I’d done nothing but ask a basic question.
He dropped his hand from my arm but didn’t move away, and the heat of him seared through me unrelentingly. My heart rate increased, pulse pounding out a rhythm that was hard to ignore. My body was clearly screaming,say yes, but my brain was telling me to run before things got even more complicated. Before the fae played havoc with my life.
He was the one to move first. He left me at the base of the stairs and strode toward the front door where he picked up a rolling suitcase. He shot me one departing look as he said, “Think about it.”
Then he was gone, leaving me spinning with turbulence. Head and heart and body all fighting to see who’d win.
Chapter Twelve
Rafe
UNDER THE WEIGHT
Performed by Bobby Bazini
What the hell had I justoffered up? What had I gotten myself into?
My pulse was pounding as if I’d just stepped out of a boxing ring as I strode past the barns to the small, single-room cabin tucked behind them that had belonged to Levi, our horse trainer, for as long as I could remember. Like always, it was unlocked, welcoming me in a way that caused more memories to bleed.
The darkness inside was almost blinding after the bright moonlight, and I found the light switch using old muscle memory. A soft glow filled the room from an old, cloth-shaded lamp, revealing little of the cabin had changed in the years I’d been gone. Levi had passed away not long after my father had, and Spencer hadn’t replaced him, saying he could do as good of a job breaking in the horses as the old man. It wasn’t the truth. The only one who’d ever been as good with the horses as Levi was me, but Spencer likely couldn’t have afforded to hire someone new. At the time, I’d thought it had been arrogance.
My forehead throbbed from my attempt at not feeling guilty over it.
A full-sized bed was shoved in one corner of the cabin, the frame made of simple pine logs that matched the two armchairs and side tables sitting in front of a small, river-rock fireplace. A small, two-seater table of cheap metal and green Formica was squeezed in front of a tiny, white refrigerator from the 1950s. The kitchenette had a chipped ceramic sink and a two-burner stovetop. The furniture was basic and worn, the wood floors scuffed from years of boots traveling over them, while an ugly, circular braided rug of mustard and camo green tried to tie the place together without success.
Levi hadn’t cared. He’d rarely been in here. In fact, I’d probably spent more hours of my life in the cabin than he had. The barn and the horses had received the majority of his time, and back when the bunkhouse had been full of ranch hands, he’d eaten his meals with them in the mess hall, mostly using the kitchen to make coffee or pour himself a finger of whiskey.
After I’d stayed here for Spence’s funeral, Lauren must have cleaned the place. It smelled of pine cleaner and bleach now instead of the dusty staleness that had greeted me after burying my brother. It was nowhere near the comfort and elegance I lived in at The Fortress with masterpieces on my walls, top-of-the-line linens welcoming me to bed, and furniture hand-selected by a very expensive interior designer. And yet, I felt a sense of home as I dropped my bag next to the beat-up dresser that had once held all of Levi’s worldly possessions.
