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“There’s nothing fun about it, babe,” I mumble, and she falls over laughing, her delicate hand falling to my thigh. The touch takes away some of the pain in my mouth. I don’t bother trying to chew it. Instead, I swallow it like a pill and sit up to find Taylor rounding the bed, cracking open a water bottle. She hands it to me, sliding into the space between my legs. I take a long sip, watching her, watch me.

“Tell me, Browning, do you do this with all the guests?” she asks. I quirk a brow at her, setting the bottle down on the nightstand. “Hang out in their rooms, watch shows, and…”

She trails off as she looks down at where my hand now rests on her waist, my thumb gliding along her exposed skin.

“Just you, Nova.”

We sit side-by-side,propped against the headboard, the TV has been nothing more than background noise to accentuate our never-ending conversation. Taylor moves the discarded candy bag to the bedside table and settles back onto the bed, resting her arm between us. I reach over, finding anyexcuse to touch her, and twist the blue and gold bracelet on her wrist.

“I like this.”

“It’s called an Ojo bracelet. Camila got it for me for my thirteenth birthday.”

“What does it mean?” Her pulse flutters erratically under my fingers.

“It’s…” She pulls her gaze away from where I’m touching her and looks into my eyes. “It’s supposed to protect you from negative energy and bring good luck.”

“Maybe I need one of these, then.”

“Do you need a little help getting lucking, Browning?”

“Mm.” I trail my fingers up her arm to the crease opposite her elbow, and her skin pebbles beneath my touch. My index and middle fingers skate up to her shoulder slowly and she inhales sharply, but never pulls her gaze from mine. I slide the strap of her tank top over, splaying the entirety of my hand across her collarbone. I wait for any sign that she wants to back out but instead, she leans in closer.

I wet my bottom lip, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, and her lashes flutter closed when I dip my chin, closing the last bit of space between us. I tease us both, brushing my nose against hers, holding on to this moment just a second longer.

A startling vibration cuts through the room and her eyes blink open. She twists out of my hold, slamming her hand onto the nightstand to silence her phone.

“Umm.” She clears her throat, scooting up further on the bed.

“I should go.”

I stand and she crawls across the bed, sitting up on her knees. I all but bite my fist in protest at the way she looks right now.

“You don’t have to.” Her voice is nothing more than a throaty whisper.

“I have an early doctor’s appointment in the morning.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth with a nod and I gently wind my hand around the back of her head, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

Taylor

The fresh hintof herbs and the sweet smell of bread fill the kitchen that Isla and I have been working in for the last two hours. I offered to help her in the kitchen mostly because she needed it, but I think I needed it as well. Creating in the kitchen has always been my little anchor—the one thing that brings me joy and a surprising sense of purpose. As I shucked husks of corn, peeled potatoes, and finely diced herbs though, I wondered if Isla needs more help here than she’s letting on.

“We’ll let that sit for about an hour before stirring,” she says, as I move the Dutch oven over the open flame. “I’m going to head down to the barn and see if I can find Ryder. He’s supposed to be helping me with the plans to build a new spice rack.”

She leaves the room, slightly shimmying her shoulders as she goes. I smile at her retreating back as she exits through the Dutch doors in the back.

The door on the opposite side of the kitchen swings open. I do a double take as Knox enters the room with one hand on the door, and the other adjusting the hat on his head.

I bite down on the insides of my cheeks, trying my best to hide the grin I so desperately want to give him.

But not before I mess with him a little.

I pull the apron over my head, loose strands of my hair lifting and falling with it, and I place it on the counter before I glide across the kitchen to where he stands.

“Hey.” I tilt my head up to him. “You look different.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows draw together, but his smirk tells me he’s playing the same game as I am.