Page 106 of Boiling Point
He paused, pulling back just enough to search my face. “Are you tired?” he asked softly.
I sighed and let my head fall against his shoulder. “Physically, I’m absolutely exhausted. But mentally, I’m wide awake. It’s weird.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “That’s the time change,” he said, holding me tighter.
We stayed like that for a long, sweet moment—his arms a refuge, the world beyond his heartbeat falling away. The room was hushed, the heavy drapes cutting out the moonlight and leaving us in a soft, woolen dark.
“I know we’re supposed to be in separate rooms,” I whispered against his neck, then pulled back to see his reaction.
He rolled his eyes.
“Are you going to stay?” I asked.
“Try and stop me.”
Chapter 37
Callum
The morning air tasted like memory—clean and sharp—laced with wet grass, turned soil, and distant woodsmoke. Beneath it, the musky sweetness of horse sweat mingled with the earthy tang of leather and hay. Birds rustled in the hedgerow, unseen but singing—thrush, blackbird, maybe a pheasant startled into flight. Hoofbeats, softened by the damp turf, echoed around us, steady and grounding.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. Not Branleigh. Not the house or the bloodlines or the silent judgments served with breakfast. But this—open land uncoiling to the horizon. The steadiness of a good horse beneath me. And the sun, breaking through a veil of cloud, just long enough to gild the fields in gold.
Gabrielle pulled up beside me, cheeks flushed from the ride, eyes alight beneath the brim of her borrowed helmet. Her seat wasn’t perfect, but it was better than I expected. She looked…right. Natural. Like she belonged here in a way that twisted something behind my ribs.
“You’re catching on,” I said, unable to hide the grin tugging at my mouth.
She laughed, winded and triumphant. “My dad put me in lessons as a kid. Western, mostly. But I guess I didn’t forget everything.”
My gaze followed the sway of her hips in the saddle, drifting down the line of her leg and over the borrowed riding boots, polished and dusted with trail grit. “Western, hmm?” I said mildly. “I’d love to see you in cowboy boots.”
She shot me a look—half-amused, half-scandalized. “Would you now?”
I leaned in enough to draw a spark without fanning it. “And nothing else.”
She rolled her eyes and nudged her horse ahead. “That’d make for an uncomfortable ride.”
I followed, smile lingering. “Depends what you’re riding.”
She slowed, letting the horse fall into a gentle walk. “Sorry I missed breakfast. Was it a big deal?”
I came alongside her. “Not at all. You were jet-lagged. I didn’t want to wake you.”
She bit her lip, still uncertain. “I hope your family doesn’t think I’m rude.”
“I handled it. And my father begged off as well, so…”
She glanced at me, worry still lingering. “I just don’t want to make a bad impression.”
I reached for her hand, steadying her reins. “You haven’t. And besides, I don’t care what they think.”
A lull settled. Only the soft snort of horses and the rustle of wind through the trees remained. I waited a beat, then spoke. “You never asked me what James meant last night. Switzerland and scandal.”
She tightened her grip on the reins but didn’t flinch. “I wasn’t going to pry,” she said carefully. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt you needed to.”
The clouds shifted like breath from a snuffed-out flame. I felt Gabrielle’s eyes on me but kept mine fixed ahead.
“Do you remember the first time we drove to Dallas together, and you asked about the last time I was in love?”
