Page 87 of The Lilac River

"I'll just call an Uber," I called back, shielding my phone from the rain.

"No one’s coming out here in this weather," he yelled, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the house.

Inside, we were both gasping, drenched. My dress clung to me in all the wrong places.

“Shit.” Wilder was breathless as he slammed the front door. “That came on quick.”

I’d forgotten how quickly summer storms came on around here, and how harsh they could be. “God, I’m soaked.”

“I’ll grab us a couple of towels.” Before Wilder had even walked a step his phone rang, and he held up a finger as he answered. “Gun what’s up? Yep…shit…okay…give me ten to get the quad out…yeah, see you then.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket and grimaced. “Sorry, Lily, I’ve got to go. One of the men’s horses just got spooked and bucked him. Gunner says the guy has dislocated his shoulder and needs me to take the quad and trailer out there to get him while they search for the horse.”

He was already at the door, pausing only to grab a rancher coat from one of the coat hooks. “Can you let Nash know?” He gave me a pleading look, like he knew it might be the last thing I wanted to do. “He’s upstairs washing up. He’ll be down soon. And stay put no one will come out here in this weather.”

He pulled on the coat and headed back into the storm.

Gone.

I stood there awkwardly, dripping, until footsteps creaked on the stairs.

Nash.

He moved down the staircase like gravity didn’t dare rush him, his dark gaze pinned to me, making my breath stutter. Every step was deliberate.

He looked like every dream I’d ever had and every regret I’d ever lived through. Like hope and heartache rolled into one impossible man.

He stopped in front of me, his chest rising and falling slowly.

"Bertie's at Shane’s," he said, voice low. “She won’t be back until after dinner if that’s who you’re looking for.”

"No. It’s…” I pointed toward the front door. “The minibus broke down. The storm came and Wilder…one of your guys horse bucked. He had to leave, something about a dislocated shoulder, the hand not the horse."

Nash’s smirk ghosted across his lips. "I figured that."

We stood there, the storm raging outside, but the real tempest was inside these four walls.

Silence fell and we went back to just watching each other. Unblinking, not breathing, just waiting. The tension was taut, and the only sound was the tick of a clock somewhere close by. I gave way first, my tongue darting out to lick my bottom lip. Nash lifted his hand and tentatively caught a droplet of rain from the end of my hair.

“You really did get caught in the storm didn’t you.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed, my throat hurting from the boulder of emotion lodged there. “Wilder was going to give me a ride home, but then…” I trailed off, watching Nash’s fingertips as he rubbed them together to brush away the raindrop.

“No one is driving in this weather.” His voice was deep and commanding and it had an instant effect on me between my thighs. “I’ll take you later.”

I wanted to argue. To tell him I’d make my own way home, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to drag myself away from his stare. The intimacy of the moment was too addictive, even though I didn’t understand it. Even though I had no clue how we’d gone from bitter words to loaded looks?

“Nash, I can get an?—”

“Not happening.” Without another word, he crossed to the kitchen. “Come in here to get dry.”

I followed on shaky legs, entering as he poured a mug of coffee. His back to me, he pushed it to one side. “Drink that and I’ll get you a towel.”

“Thank you.” Wrapping my hands around the steaming coffee mug he handed me. The heat seeped into my fingers but did nothing for the cold inside me. “You don’t need to get me a towel.”

“I’ll get you a towel.” Dominant. Deep. Unrepentant, daring me to disagree.

“Okay.”

He disappeared and a few seconds later returned with a soft towel, gently patting my wet hair. His fingertips grazed my forehead, lingering like he couldn't help himself.