West of Forever (Heartstone Ranch #1)(40)

This is completely different.

I’m not looking for anything from Tristan. I can be myself because we don’t like each other. I don’t have to impress him or worry if I call too much or talk too loudly. If he doesn’t like it…oh fucking well.

This is kind of perfect.

I can focus on helping my family get out of the ridiculous mess we’re in by selling some horses and cattle, work on my current shit show of a life, and also have a little fun.

Tristan’s eyes narrow as if he’s actually debating this. “And we keep this completely to ourselves?”

I lift my palm up. “I solemnly swear I will not tell a soul. First of all, they wouldn’t believe me. Second of all, I really don’t need to start a new reason for our families to go to war.”

He comes closer, stopping right as we’re chest to chest. His hand slides up my arm, then over my shoulder, then to my neck. Each heartbeat that passes, my blood pumps faster.

His touch does something to me that I’ve never felt before.

“I’ll give you five days to rethink this plan. Five days to consider every angle, issue, and consequence. Meet me here in five days if you really want to do this, and then I’ll lay you down and make good on every desire you’ve ever had.”

He brushes his thumb over my cheek and then kisses me softly.

Without another word, he mounts his horse, and I melt, my legs like jelly. I sink to the ground, unsure how I’m going to last five days.





Patience is a virtue that I don’t possess.

It’s been exactly twenty-four hours since Tristan left me at the top of the ridge. Since then, I have been rendered useless.

I’m tired, and I thought that maybe if I got to work, it would take my mind off things. Since sleep surely didn’t.

I thought wrong.

All I think about is his promise.

I don’t need five days.

Hell, I didn’t need five hours.

I grab my phone and text him.

I’m in.





Tristan





Five days, Lark. We’ll talk in four more days.





I groan and toss my phone on the hay bale next to me. Jerk. I’m all spun up, and now I have to wait.

What guy turns down a sure thing?

A dumb one.

Speaking of dumb guys, Jeremy is standing in the doorway of the barn. I haven’t seen him since we broke up. Honestly, I haven’t even thought about him much.

“Hey, Lark,” he says, walking inside.

“Jeremy, hey.”

“Sorry to just drop in.”

“It’s fine, is…everything okay?” I ask.

Jeremy never came by during the day. He worked through lunches, always striving to impress his parents, who own the building company they all work for.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I hadn’t talked to you, and then I heard a rumor, and…”

“A rumor? About me?”

He nods and walks closer. “Yeah, that you’re with someone new.”

There’s no way he could know what Tristan and I talked about. That was a day ago, and I haven’t spoken about it. My stomach drops, and I try to get my racing thoughts under control.

I haven’t spoken about it, but what if he did?

Would he?

Why?

He has nothing to gain…unless…what if he told people so that I’ll look stupid? It’s the perfect play, isn’t it? He tells everyone that I want to sleep with him, that I propositioned him and he refused.

Oh my God. I’m going to kill him!

“Lark?” Jeremy calls my name, and I push down my roiling emotions.

“Sorry, you shocked me for a moment. I’m not with anyone.” It’s the truth. I’m not. I’m not dating anyone or even sleeping with them.

It was a kiss.

One…okay, two, kisses.

With the same guy, so really it should count as one, and he kissed me, as he so proclaimed.

I can’t be at fault for that. What was I going to do? Turn away?

“Really? Because there’s a photo of you from the other night with Tristan Stone that has people talking. I don’t ever hear gossip, but I overheard my assistant,” Jeremy explains. “They’re saying you left together.”

Oh, that’s what he’s talking about.

Crisis averted.

I shake my head with a breathy laugh. “No, I’m not with him. As for leaving with him, yes, he drove me home because Jimmy ended up having to take Mary Lou and Suzanne. It was really that innocent.” I glance at the photo on his phone, a little horrified because, from the angle, we’re both staring at each other, and it’s intense. I clear my throat and do my best to minimize the photo. “And that wasn’t even a dance, really. It was a barn dance, where you go around the room, dance with everyone, you know?”

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know, because Jeremy never went to the Beast or really anywhere that wasn’t dinner or a movie. He doesn’t drink, and even when I tried to get him to come dancing with me, he wasn’t interested.

He liked to keep things simple and reliable. Same restaurant. Same type of movie. Same…everything (if you know what I mean).

As for the dance Tristan cut in on, that wasn’t a dance, and I’ll stand on that until the day I die. It was, like, ten seconds.