West of Forever (Heartstone Ranch #1)(31)

I manage to hit it, and the seat belt loosens while I’m pretty much hanging out of the truck, but still halfway in.

My dignity is partially spared by the fact my feet do hit the side rails and I don’t tumble to the ground, as Tristan is in front of me.

His hands are on my waist, and I hold on to his broad shoulders. “Steady,” he says as he lifts me up slightly and puts me on the ground, my back against the truck.

“I should go,” I whisper.

“I’m not letting you walk drunk. So, whatever idea you had about running off isn’t going to happen.”

I look at the headlight beams, like beacons shining toward the front of the house, where my parents’ room is.

“Shut the truck off then.”

“Lark.”

“Please,” I beg. “I promise, I’ll stay here, but we have to be discreet. I really don’t want to be responsible for anyone killing you. It would be a lot of cleanup.”

He snorts a laugh. “I’d worry more about anyone coming up against me.”

He’s such a guy.

“Yes, I am,” he responds.

“Again with the saying my thoughts aloud!” I grumble.

“Stay put,” he warns.

When he seems to be content that I’m not going anywhere, he walks back to his side of the truck and turns the engine off, killing the lights.

I breathe a sigh of relief for clearing this first hurdle.

Now I have to actually walk, undetected, to the front door and pray no one woke up to the lights. If I somehow manage to make that happen, then I need to hope that my brothers are asleep and not waiting up because I was out drinking and they worry I won’t make it back safe.

I mean, look at me now. I’m just freaking fine.

Sure, I’m with my mortal enemy, dreaming of his face, his body, his mustache scratching me in all the wrong places—or right places, depending on your perspective—and I’m great. I almost puked once and can’t seem to keep my internal thoughts, well, internal. Again, I’m doing great, though.

Remembering that my internal thoughts have been becoming vocal, I look to Tristan, who runs his fingers through his dark hair and sighs. “Can you walk?”

I breathe my own sigh of relief that I didn’t say any of that. There’s no way he would’ve passed on the chance to say something.

“I can walk.”

At least I’m going to force myself to do it—unassisted.

I should really know better.

I take two steps and fall.

Yup. I fall.

Not gracefully either.

More like a sorority girl who did a couple too many keg stands and thought all was well with her balance.

It wasn’t well.

I flop over on my side and start laughing, because really, what else am I going to do? Cry? No way.

Tristan stands above me, arms crossed over his chest, and laughs. “That was…”

“Graceful?” I finish as a question.

“If you were going for the grace of a dead fish.”

I laugh and lift my hands. “Help.”

He does more than that. He squats down and lifts me up into his arms. My arms automatically loop around his neck, holding on to him. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“What do you think? I’m not going to let you fall the entire way down your half-mile-long driveway. This is safer.”

Maybe for him. Not for me.

This close, I can feel his heat, the strength in his arms as he carries me as if I weigh nothing. I can smell his cologne mixed with fresh air and leather.

All of it is too much. Too close. Too—Tristan.









Chapter 10





Tristan




“Ipromise I can walk,” she protests as she’s in my arms. This is a big mistake.

I should’ve never offered to take her home. I should’ve let Jimmy deal with the three of them, or better yet, just taken Mary Lou home.

I don’t sit around thinking about her.

Not that I really think about Lark, since she just keeps showing up everywhere.

“Lark, you couldn’t even take ten steps before flopping over,” I remind her.

“Yes, well, I’m fine now.”

She’s more than fine—she’s fucking stunning. Her long brown hair sways side to side as I carry her, her arms looped around my neck, holding on to me with a trust I don’t deserve.

Lark looks up at me, her green eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

“You’re right. You are fine now,” I croak out and then look forward.

This is absolutely insane. This…thing. Which isn’t even a thing. It’s just lust. After this many years, of course I’m going to desire another woman. I’m not a monk. I’ve had sex in the last nine years.

Not that I ever fucked the same girl twice. I never even want to think about anything serious. I’ve endured more loss than any man should. My focus is directed forward, on the business and my family.

We walk without incident—blessedly.

That is, until she rests her head on my chest.

I lift her a little higher, tucking her closer, and then, like a fool, I brush my lips against her forehead.

Immediately I look ahead, not willing to acknowledge my mistake.