Page 87 of Sassy Love
“Ruby and Reed built this place into the guest ranch. My brothers and father built the cabins and renovated the largest barn, which you’ll see tomorrow night. Rubes has an eye for decorating.”
“That she does,” Carlie says, running a hand over the blankets before she backs up to the side of the bed, her calves hitting the mattress. She flops down starfish-style and waves her arms up and down the covers. “This place is incredible, Lawson.”
“It is. You tired?”
She yawns as the words leave my mouth. I could curl up on this bed and recreate our hours tangled together when she was sick. Less the sick part, that is.
“I’m wiped. What do we do for dinner?” she asks.
“Rubes texted. She’s going to drop a welcome basket off later. Fruit and snacks and the like.”
“Oh, that will be perfect. Maybe I’ll just nap until tomorrow.” She sits up and pats the bed beside her. “Come here.”
It feels like the tension between us has changed. Everything is more familiar. More heightened.
I pad to where she is but don’t sit. Instead, I look down, trying to find the words I’ve been wanting to say for hours. Since the plane landed.
“What?” she says, a rare shy smile gracing her face.
“I—” I study her face. I can’t ruin the working relationship we have. But every day I spend with this woman is more intense, more tortuous than the last. Deciding words won’t cut it, I palm her face. Her lips part as her brown eyes tighten. “How about instead of Princess, I just call you mine?”
Her little gasp has her head jerk back from my hands.
Fuck.
Too much.
Too soon.
You idiot.
I resist the urge to step away. Carlie stands, her hands hanging by her side. “I want to try something,” she whispers.
I stand still, waiting as I swallow against the rock in my throat.
“You’re not needing a distraction, right?” she asks.
“Well, that depends . . .”
The blood racing south says I absolutely do. Anything to take my mind off the stunning woman in front of me.
“I mean, you’re good. This is not just a coping mechanism?”
Fuck.
She means . . .
“I’m good,” I rasp.
Her hands cup my face before dragging my mouth close. Her lips brush over mine. “You sure?”
I nod before pressing my forehead to hers. I couldn’t fight this moment off if I tried. How many weeks have I imagined touching her, kissing her, takin?—
“Stop thinking, Lawson.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Fuck, when you talk like that . . .”
