Page 57 of Bet The Farm

A frustrated sound reverberated in my throat at her needling. “Chase isn’t just any guy, and you know it.”

“Okay, okay,” she said gently, her hand resting on my bicep. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I grumbled. “But you still haven’t answered me.”

For a second, she was quiet, her attention sliding over to the pastures on either side of the drive where the people wandered.

“He’s easy to be around, and he’s … well, he’s not as bad as you’ve made him up to be in your head.” She seemed to want to add to the thought but let it go. “Plus, it’s nice to be wanted. That’s all.”

A mixture of anticipation and a rush of bravery wrested my heart, my lungs. “You don’t want to be wanted by him. He’ll only ruin you.”

“It’s nice all the same.”

“He’s not the only one who wants you.”

Her face turned to mine. “He’s the only one I know of.”

“Well, I think we can agree there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“You’ve been teaching me everything else. Why stop here?”

The air between us was charged, flecks of hay dancing in the air around us. “Olivia …”

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” she asked quietly, closer to me than before. I didn’t know if she’d moved or if I had.

“I …” My gaze caught on her lips, then my thumb as it tested the cushion. Her jaw was in my hand, I noticed.

“Yes?” It was a whisper.

The tension between us was unbearable, the fight in my chest at an impasse, a pair of locked horns. My mind was a void. Time was a vacuum. I stared at her lips.

“Oh, fuck it,” she breathed, and then she was in my arms.

Our lips met with almost a bounce—hard from surprise, then soft in desire—as I gathered her up, felt the shape of her in my arms. Held her like a delicate thing, a precious thing, a thing to be treasured, this woman who could stop a thunderhead with a word.

I noted every detail of her with the obsession of an artist who’d seen a thing that would disappear. Her lips, soft and sweet—she tasted of sugar, did she taste like this everywhere? I needed to know. I needed to feel the press of our bodies, to mark how she fit against me with a familiarity I shouldn’t possess. I traced her neck with my fingertips as our lips parted, a soft seam. I knew every line of her, knew without knowing the way the curve of her waist would fit my hand. I knew her mouth, not from the clumsy kiss so long ago. I knew it because she was mine.

Mine. The word was a rush of thunder, a roar in my ribs, the knowledge pure. I couldn’t fathom how I hadn’t known. How I’d missed something so plain, so clear.

With a shift, I rolled us, fitting my hips against hers, pinning her with my lips, with my hand on her face. A long flex against her, and she mewled.

You can’t have her.

I broke away with a pop of surprise, staring down at Olivia. Pale skin, eyes closed. Rosy cheeks, lips plump.

You can’t keep her.

I rolled off of her, staring out the window at the oak trees, scrubbing a hand over my lips.

This was a mistake. As right as it felt, I knew it was wrong. We were partners, and if we did this, I’d drive her away. Somehow, I’d lose her too.

“Jake?” she said. Her hand found the small of my back.

“I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” I scrambled to my feet.

She shifted to sit, her face bent with confusion. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t … we can’t …” I raked a hand through my hair and headed for the ladder. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Please, come back and talk to me.”

My feet were four rungs down when I chanced a look at her. “I can’t.”

“Is this about the bet? Is it about the farm?” she asked frantically, moving to crawl in my direction with rejection all over her.

I stopped. “No. Or not exactly. But we can’t do this. You know we can’t. I shouldn’t have kissed you—”

“I kissed you.”

I shook my head and started down the ladder. “It shouldn’t have happened. Goodnight, Olivia.”

“Don’t say goodnight to me, asshole,” she said with a rough voice and tears in her eyes as she threw a handful of hay at me. It rained down on me, sticking in my hair and fluttering down to the floor.

I jumped the last few rungs, hurrying for the back of the barn where I could cut to my house without her seeing me again. I didn’t want to hurt her any worse than I already had. But I couldn’t pretend like if I did what I wanted with her that it’d be casual. And I couldn’t pretend like it wouldn’t kill me when she left me here like anybody with a brain knew she would.

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