Page 40 of Saddle and Scent (Saddlebrush Ridge #1)

I take his hand and let him pull me into the middle of the empty road. There are no cars, no witnesses, nothing but us and the rain and the kind of moment that exists outside of normal time.

And then we're dancing.

Barefoot on wet asphalt, spinning and laughing and not caring about anything except the way the rain feels on our skin and the way his hands feel in mine.

It's not elegant dancing— more like controlled flailing with musical intent —but it's perfect. He spins me around until I'm dizzy, then pulls me close, and for a moment we're just swaying together while the rain cascades around us like a curtain.

This is what happiness feels like.

This ridiculous, impractical, completely irresponsible happiness that comes from throwing caution to the wind and embracing whatever chaos the universe decides to serve up.

"You're completely insane," I tell him, but I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

"Only for you," he says, and there's something in his voice that makes my breath catch.

Only for you.

Like this version of him—spontaneous and wild and willing to dance in the rain—only exists when I'm around.

Like I bring out parts of him that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

The rain shows no signs of stopping, and we're both soaked to the bone. My t-shirt is plastered to my body, and his jeans are so wet they look painted on. We should be miserable, should be focused on finding shelter or fixing the moped or at least getting out of the downpour.

Instead, I feel more alive than I have in years.

That's when Callum does something that stops my heart completely.

He strips off his flannel shirt— the one he was wearing over his t-shirt —and wraps it around my shoulders. It's warm from his body heat and smells like him, creating a pocket of intimacy even in the middle of the storm.

"Can't have you catching cold," he says, his voice soft despite the rain drumming around us.

The gesture is so tender, so protective, that it makes my chest ache.

Because this is the Callum I remember from before everything went wrong.

The one who noticed when I was cold or tired or upset.

The one who took care of me without making it feel like pity.

We're standing close now, close enough that I can see the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, close enough to count the different shades of gold in his eyes. His hands are still on my shoulders, keeping the shirt in place, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body despite the cool rain.

The air between us shifts.

Becomes charged with something that has nothing to do with the storm.

His gaze drops to my lips, then back to my eyes, and I can see the question there. The same question that's been hanging between us since yesterday, maybe since the day I came back to Saddlebrush Ridge.

Maybe since we were teenagers and too scared to know what to do with the feelings that were too big for our young hearts.

He leans in slowly, giving me plenty of time to pull away, but I don't. I can't. Because this moment feels inevitable, like something that's been waiting to happen for ten years.

Our faces are inches apart.

His breath is warm against my skin.

His eyes are locked on mine with an intensity that makes everything else fade away.

We're about to kiss.

Finally, after all this time, we're about to ? —

CRACK.

Thunder explodes overhead, so loud and sudden that I jump backward with a startled yelp. The moment shatters like glass, leaving us both standing there blinking in the aftermath.

Callum's lips twitch into a smirk.

"Scared of a little thunder, Bell?"

The teasing tone in his voice sets something competitive on fire in my chest.

Because that's exactly the kind of challenge I can't resist.

"Scared?" I echo, raising an eyebrow. "I'll show you scared."

Before he can react, I reach up and grab him by the collar of his soaked t-shirt, pulling him down until our faces are level. Then I kiss him— hard and deep and with every ounce of frustration and longing I've been carrying for the past decade.

He tastes like rain and surprise and something that's purely him.

His mouth is warm and soft and perfect against mine.

And when he responds—when his arms come around me and he kisses me back with equal fervor—the world tilts on its axis.

This is what I've been missing.

This connection, this perfect fit, this feeling like coming home.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. His eyes are dark and stunned, and there's a flush across his cheekbones that has nothing to do with the cold rain.

"Juniper," he breathes, my name like a prayer on his lips.

I grin up at him, feeling powerful and reckless and completely in control.

"Just so we're clear," I say, my voice steady despite the way my heart is racing, "I'm planning to make you suffer the most out of the three of you."

He blinks, clearly trying to process what I just said.

"What do you mean, suffer?"

My grin widens, taking on a decidedly wicked edge.

"You'll see."

"Juniper," he starts, and I can hear the beginning of an argument in his voice.

But I just give him my most defiant smile— the one that used to drive him crazy when we were kids and still seems to have the same effect —and he stops mid-sentence.

Because he knows that look.

He knows what it means when I set my mind on something.

He knows his fate is sealed.

The rain continues to pour around us, but neither of us moves to seek shelter. We just stand there, staring at each other, the taste of that kiss still lingering between us like a promise of things to come.

And I can see in his eyes that he knows exactly what kind of trouble he's in.

Which is exactly how I want it.