Dakota asks me about the movie, and I tell her about how this week went. Warner’s arm slips behind me, his hand coming to rest on my hip. Dakota interrupts me to ask questions, and I answer them. Mostly it’s basic stuff about how movies are made, and how long scenes really take to shoot, and then she asks, “Did you have to kiss that handsome costar of yours this week? Rough life.”
Warner’s hand tightens on my hip. I look down at him, then back to Dakota. “We’re shooting the big sex scene next week.” Talking about the movie makes me remember what Ari asked me before I left the set this afternoon. “Wes, do you think it would be okay for the crew to fly a drone over some of the Hayden ranch? Just to get some aerial footage? The Circle B obviously isn’t a working ranch, and if it doesn’t come from you guys it may end up being stock footage, which nobody wants. The movie might be a romantic comedy, but it still needs authenticity.”
I steel myself for his response, which I’m positive will be a hell no, but he shocks everyone by agreeing. Warner sips his whiskey, then motions toward Wes with the glass. “Either the whiskey has given you the warm and fuzzies, or you’re high on the pregnancy news.”
Wes doesn’t laugh, but his eyes hold mirth. My response is decidedly different. Instead of Warner’s joke making me laugh, it’s forced a realization that’s been in front of me this whole time and I’ve ignored.
Warner knows what it’s like to be high on pregnancy news, two times over. Warner knows many things I don’t know, all of which suddenly seem like creatures creeping from the shadows. Marriage, pregnancy, birth, infancy… How likely is he to want to do those things again? I don’t want to marry the guy tomorrow, but I can’t ignore the facts. Eventually I’m going to want all those things. But what about Warner?
I start to fake a yawn, but it quickly turns real. Warner looks up at me as I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Tired?” he asks. He uses the outside edge of his palm to lightly rub my thigh. The last sip of amber liquid in his tumbler swirls around, the scent curling up to my nose.
I nod, standing. “I’d better take off. I have an early call time.” False. I’m not due in until noon.
Warner stands also. “Can I drive you back to your cabin?”
I can’t help but smile. “Don’t you mean Wyatt’s cabin?”
Warner bites down on his lower lip. “I’ve come to think of it as yours.”
I wink. “A girl could only be so lucky.”
Dakota chuckles, but Warner sees through my casual tone. His eyes narrow, his gaze turning shrewd.
“Anyway,” I continue. “I drove here. I can drive myself back.”
“Right.” He nods. “Are you up for some fun this weekend? I was under the distinct impression we’re supposed to be letting people see us together.”
I might be confused about what’s happening with me and Warner, but I know my role, and it’s more than the one I’m playing in the movie. Stirring up interest in the movie is tantamount to making a good film. My parents are depending on me.
I place my hand on Warner’s upper arm and give it a light squeeze. “Of course. You just tell me where to be.”
I say goodbye to Wes and Dakota, then duck into the house to thank Beau and Juliette for dinner. When I come back out, Warner is waiting for me on the top step. He leans against the post, arms folded, making his broad chest and shoulders look even bigger.
“Are you walking me the thirty feet to my car?”
He nods once. “Yes ma’am.”
I stop when I reach him. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
Warner’s hand finds the small of my back. “It’s alive out here.”
He guides me down the stairs and around to the other side of his truck, where I’m parked. The lights from the homestead don’t reach this far, and hazy clouds are moving in, making quick work of the moonlight.
He steps closer, one hand gripping my hip. I draw in a surprised breath when he cups my breast with his other hand, his thumb drawing back and forth over the thin material covering my nipple. “So much for chivalry,” I whisper around the sensation. “I think I know why you wanted to walk me out.”
Warner leans in, his lips hovering above mine, and says, “A man can be both chivalrous and want a woman the way I want you.”
“Is that right?” I’m practically panting. How embarrassing.
Warner’s lips brush mine. “Do you doubt me?”
His question throws me off guard, makes me remember my thoughts from earlier. “No, but…”
Warner pulls back slightly. “What?”
I don’t want to tell him. Not right now. Not when he’s pressed against me, when everything feels like it’s where it’s supposed to be. I just want to live in this moment, in this time devoid of previous marriages, of publicity stunts and the fallout from gambling addictions.
I don’t answer. Instead, I wrap my hand around his neck and pull him down to me. He allows it, allows me to slip into him, to kiss him in a way that turns us both inside out.
Finally, I drag my face away, turning my head so I can suck in a deep breath of much-needed air. Warner takes a step away, opening up Pearl’s driver side door. I climb in. “Let me know about this weekend,” I tell him.
He presses a thumb to the center of his lower lip, regarding me with that perceptive gaze of his. Maybe with most men I could get away with hiding my feelings, but Warner is not most men. His sensitivity doesn’t allow for smoke screens.
“You’ll talk when you’re ready?”
I nod. His willingness not to push is another reminder he is practiced in the art of relationships. Anna has taught him not to force a woman to talk when she doesn’t want to.
I turn the car on, Pearl’s engine coming to life with a roar. Warner closes my door, smacking it once with an open palm and striding back to the homestead as I drive away from it. On my way past Cowboy House, I spot Jessie and Wyatt coming out. They pause in the front porch light. She looks irritated. He looks exhausted. Maybe he was up late last night. Maybe he was with the married woman again. Far be it from me to judge.
I grab my phone as I lay down in bed and open up my text app. Just as I hoped, there’s a message from Warner.
Good night, beautiful.
I answer him with Good night, handsome.
24
Tenley
“You said you had an early morning.”
The voice comes from across the room. I open my eyes, blink against the sunlight, and hold back the groan rising up.
Warner has one eyebrow raised. He holds his coffee carafe and a white paper bag.
Sitting up, I pull the comforter up around my middle and push my hair from my face. “What time is it?”
“Nine. I took the kids to school and stopped for a treat”—he raises the white bag— “it’s blueberry muffin day at The Bakery. Thought I’d just be dropping it off for you to have when you returned, but when I drove up and saw Pearl, I went to my house and made coffee, then came over.”
“How did you get in?”
“You didn’t answer my knock, so I used my key.”