Page 36 of Don't Burn Bridges
Like it had been a mistake—even though it hadn’t felt like one that night.
The memory surfaced anyway, whether or not she wanted it to. She remembered the weight of his arm draped over her and the warmth of him at her back. The room had been so quiet she'd heard nothing but the steady rhythm of his breathing. He'd touched her as though he wasn't in a hurry, as though he was learning her instead of simply taking what he wanted. Then there was his voice at her ear—rough and gentle at the same time—whispering words she hadn't expected and hadn't known what to do with.
It had never been like that before. Not with anyone. None of it had felt casual, like something she could walk away from.
Which was exactly what she'd tried to do.
Because it had felt different. And different was dangerous.
Since that morning, Seth had called and texted more times than she wanted to count. Aside from a few brief replies to let him know she was okay, she'd stayed clear of him, the ranch, and anywhere else their paths might cross.
The worst part was that she wasn't entirely sure what she was trying to accomplish. Staying away hadn't stopped her from thinking about him. If anything, it had made things worse.
She pressed the rag harder against the table, her jaw tightening as she forced the thought away.
She hadn't come to Hazard Falls to build a life. She still had Shane to deal with, questions that needed answers, and truths she hadn't told. The longer she stayed, the more complicated everything became. Seth was already proof of that.
“Girl, if you scrub that any harder, you’re gonna take the finish off.” Giselle’s voice carried across the bar, amused and knowing in equal measure.
Shylo glanced up, then nudged a chair back into place with her foot before straightening the others around the table. “It’ll survive.”
“Mm-hmm.” Giselle stepped in beside her, lowering her voice. “You good?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.” She set a hand on Shylo’s arm, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m here if you want to talk. And I don’t repeat things—I’ve been on the wrong end of that before.”
She didn’t respond.
Giselle studied her for a second, then nodded. “I won’t push. Just don’t wear yourself out before we’re done.”
With another quick squeeze, she let go and headed toward the kitchen.
Shylo adjusted the last chair, turned—and froze.
Seth stood inside the entrance, one hand still on the door as his gaze scanned the bar. The neon beer signs cast a low glow across the room, catching on the brim of his straw hat and the line of his shoulders. Snug Wranglers rode low on his hips, paired with a charcoal gray Triple-R T-shirt that fit him a little too well and black boots.
Her stomach dropped. Four days hadn’t changed a damn thing—she was still attracted to him.
And of course he’d come there, the one place she couldn’t easily avoid him.
He spotted her almost immediately, his gaze locking on hers, and something clenched inside her. He didn’t look angry. Didn’t look amused. Just... determined. Like he’d made up his mind about something and wasn’t leaving without seeing it through.
Her first instinct was to turn away. Her second was to pretend she hadn’t seen him. The third—the one that actually took over—had her grabbing a nearby tray, using the motion as an excuse to avoid standing there staring at him.
She didn’t make it far.
“Shylo.” His voice carried enough to reach her without drawing attention.
She slowed as the sound of his boots hitting the wooden floor marked each step behind her. By the time she turned, he was already a few paces away, his stride unhurried but purposeful.
He stopped in front of her. “Hey.”
Up close, he looked a little tired around the edges, but there was nothing uncertain about him. Not in the way he stood. Not in the way he looked at her.
“What can I get you?” she asked, defaulting to routine. “Beer? Something to eat?”
He gave her a quick once-over, as if he were taking in more than just her question. “I’m good.”
