Page 4 of Made for You
That was the moment I knew—whatever she was doing in Bridger Falls, it wasn’t just sightseeing or playing tourist.
That was okay. I liked a little mystery. But not too much.
“You gonna tell me what you’re doing here in Bridger Falls, Siena?”
She lifted her wine glass again, but didn’t drink. “Does it matter?”
Did it?
I didn’t typically make a habit out of knowing the life stories of the women I hooked up with, so why did I care about hers? I couldn’t say, only that I desperately wanted to know who she was.
She traced the rim of her glass with one finger, her shoulders dropping slightly as her eyes went distant for the first time since we started talking. “I’m here to make something of my own. Something that feels like mine.” Her voice softened on the last words.
“That sounds like a big swing.”
“It is,” she said. “But if I pull it off, it’ll be worth it.”
“Well, now I’m rooting for you, honey.”
She looked at me again, something soft in her gaze. “You’re trouble, Gage.”
“Good trouble, I hope?”
Her lips curved to the side in a seductive smile, the apples of her cheeks lifting. Her green eyes moved between my mouth and my eyes like she was making some kind of decision.
The air between us felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
Finally, she reached for her purse—a sleek black thing that probably cost more than most people’s rent—and slid it onto her shoulder.
“You know what?” she said, setting her glass down and sliding off the stool in one slow, fluid movement that had my pulse jumping. “Let’s find out.”
My brows lifted. “Yeah?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. Part of me had been expecting her to tell me it was nice meeting me before disappearing into the night.
She stepped close enough that I caught another hit of that intoxicating perfume, close enough that I could see the gold flecks in her green eyes. Her hand found my forearm, her fingers trailing down to my wrist in a touch that was barely there but sent heat shooting straight through me.
“I’m staying just up the road,” she said, her mouth brushing the edge of my jaw as she spoke. The warmth of her breathagainst my skin made me suppress a shiver. “Big white farmhouse with the green shutters. You know it?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, and for a split second, I saw something flicker across her face—uncertainty, maybe, or surprise at her boldness. But then that confident mask slipped back into place, and she said, “Give me ten minutes.” Her thumb brushed across my knuckles before she let go of my hand entirely.
She turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the worn wooden floor with each measured step. But halfway to the door, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder, catching me watching her with what was probably a dumbstruck expression.
That earned me a smile—the first genuinely pleased one I’d seen from her all night.
Then she was gone, leaving me staring at the door like an idiot.
Nine minutes later, I threw a twenty-dollar bill down on the bar and followed her like she was the pied fucking piper.
CHAPTER TWO
I pacedthe length of the living room for the third time, my high heels clicking against the hardwood floor, the voice in my head growing louder with each pass.What the hell am I doing?I don’t bring strangers home. And I certainly don’t let handsome men with lazy smiles and whiskey-warm voices completely unravel my composure.
And yet, here I was in the farmhouse I’d rented for the next six months, my heart pounding like I was nineteen again and sneaking a boy into my dorm room at Cornell.
But Gage was no boy; that sexy cowboy wasallman.
“Gage,” I said his name out loud, testing how it felt in my mouth … how it rolled off my tongue.
