Page 20 of Wait in the Truck
Unfortunately, now I’m stuck mending the fucking mess Casper made when he tore the rails straight from the posts in an attempt to mount Sage’s horse.
Can’t say I blame him.
I should have known better than to leave him unattended with a pretty mare. Apparently, my stallion is more like his owner than I ever knew. When presented with temptation, nothing can stop me from taking what I want either.
Even though Sage scampered away as soon as we split our horses, the proof of what we did was still pinkening her cheeks when she rode away. I don’t think I will ever forget the memory of her bobbing along the surface, her pert rosy nipples teasing the water’s edge, inviting me to suck on them. There was only one way that scene was going to end—with my cock buried in her tight little cunt.I knew it.And the second Sage invited me to join her in the river, she knew it too. Recalling the image of her body melting in my hands as I pumped in and out of her pussy has me harder than fucking steel. It’s been a few hours since she soakedmy cock with her orgasm, and I’m ready for round two. Three, if you count the hand job I gave myself while I was hidden between the trees. It seems when it comes to Sage Everett, I am insatiable.
With thoughts of my wildflower plaguing my mind, I finish patching up the rails as night starts to fall. I really should head back to the ranch and catch up on a few hours of sleep, but when I pack my tools into the saddle bag and climb onto Casper, I lead him toward Lilac Meadows instead, needing one more glimpse of my obsession.
By the time I ride across the acres spanning between the Rivers and Everett family ranches, the sky has faded into a navy sheet blanketed by stars. Once again, I dismount my stallion and tie his reins to a nearby post. “Maybe this time, keep the fuckin’ fence in check.” His chocolate-brown eyes bore into mine as his nostrils flare. “At least there’s no pussy to distract you this time, eh?” My hand strokes down his face, giving him an ounce of attention. “Behave. I’ll be back soon.”
As I hoist myself over the boundary fence, I pray Casper stays quiet. Last thing I need is Sage’s father pointing his rifle at me—or my horse—for trespassing. With any luck, Daddy Everett is drowning in a bottle of his choice.
Each step has my boots leaving soft impressions in the dewy grass as I cross the yard under a shroud of night. My shadow stretches long and furtive as the log house’s silhouettelooms like an old guardian beneath the moonlight. Careful to remain as quiet as possible, I round the side of the house until Sage’s partially open bedroom window comes into view. Assessing the situation, I scan the area for a way up. My eyes fixate on a large oak next to the house.Bingo.
Thanks to a childhood of climbing trees with my brothers, I reach the extended branch that gives a clear path to Sage’s bedroom window in a matter of minutes. It’s slightly ajar, as if daring me to uncover the hidden truths behind the glass pane. With practiced hands, I nudge it open wider and slip into the room, greeted by a silence so profound it feels eerie.
Once inside, my feet greet the hardwood floor with a gentle thud. It’s been years since I’ve stepped foot in the Everett house, not since Jonah died, but I don’t ever recall being in Sage’s room. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, I glance around her sanctuary.
Her space is a time capsule of adolescence, walls adorned with posters of country music bands and Nashville stars, while fairy lights cast a soft glow over the disheveled bed. The comforter lies discarded in a riot of colors, revealing crumpled sheets that bear witness to a restless soul. On the vanity, makeup products are discarded like paint on an artist’s canvas, while a journal lies shut next to the mess. Despite this intimate chaos, the absence of Sage hangs heavy in the air, stirring an unease within me Istruggle to acknowledge. “If I were a pretty wildflower, where would I be?”
My eyes drift to the door where a chair holds it shut from the inside—a makeshift barricade against an unseen threat. “Why would she lock herself away?” I murmur softly to myself, a crease forming between my brows. “What are you hiding?” Consumed by all the reasons Sage would need to protect herself, my blood boils beneath my skin. Is it Toby she’s afraid of, or is it someone else entirely? Struck by the memory of Sage sneaking from the barn in her pj’s, I fear she has more than one demon she’s running from.
Could she be in the barn now, hiding away among the hay and shadows?
Guess there’s only one way to find out. Exiting the room, the cool night air hits me like a bucket of ice water as I step through the window and climb down the tree. When my boots are back on solid ground, I waste no time, sneaking through the night like a phantom. Before I slip inside, I toss a glance over my shoulder, quickly surveying the property to make sure my presence has gone unnoticed. It wouldn’t be unusual for a few ranch hands to be lurking around, especially since it’s calving season.
Satisfied I’ve gone undetected, I push open the rickety wooden door, wincing when it squeaks like a mouse under an owl’s talons as I shut it behind me. My eyes drink in the dim light, adjusting to the gloom. I wait, listening for herpresence. My breathing turns quiet when her voice carries around the space from the open deck of the ceiling loft. Crossing the barn, I conceal myself among the stack of bales in the corner—the same ones I almost kissed Sage behind earlier in the week. I don’t want to alert her of my presence, at least not yet.
From my vantage point, I crane my neck and enjoy the way the moonlight dances over her like some ghostly waltz partner as she paces the wooden floorboards. My gaze narrows at her frantic steps, and it takes everything in me to remain planted in place and not go to her. After a few minutes, she settles onto her makeshift bed—nothing but old blankets and straw—with a sigh so soft it barely stirs the dust.
“What’s got you so frazzled, Sage?” I mutter beneath my breath.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle of movement, and my cat saunters into view. That sly critter knows more about this ranch than any living soul. With feline grace, it leaps up beside Sage, offering warmth and companionship.
“Hey there, trouble,” she whispers to Jinx with an edge of vulnerability that makes me feel like I’m trespassing on sacred ground. “You know, I was with Kade earlier… today by the river… Who’d have thought?” Her chuckle is soft and self-mocking. “Not me.”
Listening in on her private moment feels like I’m stealing from a church plate, but here I am all the same,unable to help myself when it comes to the pretty girl next door. I crave her deepest secrets. I ache to know her every thought, especially when they’re about me.
“I should feel guilty, right?” She pauses, and I hold my fucking breath for what she might say next.
The words are like a spur digging into my side. I remember every second of that sun-soaked tryst—the heat of her skin, the way she arched against me, the rush of the river around us. “I don’t regret it, Wildflower. Neither should you.” I keep my voice low, like a whispered confession between me and the barn walls. Like it or not, Sage has become the current I’m drowning in, and I’m too far gone to swim for shore.
As Sage continues spilling secrets to that cat, all innocent like, as if her words haven’t branded themselves onto me, the desire in me coils tighter. There’s a twist of something else too—knowledge that we’ve begun a game without any clear rules.
Eventually, her voice trails off, and Sage’s eyelids flutter closed, her breathing deepening. My resolve crumbles faster than sunbaked earth beneath my boots. So when I’m convinced she’s down for the count, I move out of the shadows and make my way up to the loft, fulfilling the need to be near her.
Watching Sage sleep is like witnessing a tumbleweed roll across an open prairie; it’s hypnotic in its simplicity.With agonizing care, I inch closer to her, my boots soft against the barn floor.
“Fuckin’ hell, Sage,” I whisper into the dark. “What is it about you that makes me fucking feral?”
Time crawls by slower than molasses as I wrestle with myself. There’s no use denying it—I’m caught up in her, in ways a man shouldn’t be about a woman he knows he can’t keep. I crouch beside her sleeping form, my heart thumping like a drum against my ribs.
I reach out and brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek, the touch featherlight. She doesn’t stir, just keeps on sleeping, innocent to the turmoil she’s stirring within me.
“Dammit, Sage,” I mutter under my breath, the words barely a sound. My mind rolls back to the river, to the pull of her body against mine, the rush of the water mixing with our breath, the heat that consumed us both. It was a fire—blazing hot and impossible to douse. Even now, I’m burning up from the inside, smoldering with want and memories I can’t shake.
As I watch her lying here, lost to dreams, I know this isn’t over. This obsession, it’s got its hooks in deep, and I’m just a man strung out on the very thing that’ll be his ruin. “Obsession,” I breathe out again, letting the word hang in the air, heavy with truth. “You’re a damn wildfire, and I’m standing here with matches in my hand.”
