Page 20 of Branded Mine

I stared up at him. “For fourteen years?”

“Yeah. Your father was worthless. When he was gone, I wanted you to still have a place that was yours—to do whatever you wanted with it.” He stepped toward me, not enough to touch but close enough that I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. “It was all I had left of you.”

The air left my lungs, and neither of us moved.

Fourteen years of distance stood between us, filled with every day I had forced myself not to remember this place. Every year I had convinced myself no one in Rootstown Creek had noticed I was gone, that no one cared whether I survived or where I ended up.

But Ryder had stayed. He had kept the ranch standing, not because my father deserved it or because the land belonged to him but because it had belonged to me.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” I whispered.

“Don’t have to do anything.” His voice rumbled out, and I had to reach out and grip the banister for support. “I didn’t do it to get something from you.”

“I know.” My voice broke slightly. “That almost makes it worse.” The corner of his mouth kicked up a fraction. “I don’t know how to accept something that doesn’t come with a price.”

Something in Ryder’s face changed. The hard lines remained, but his eyes softened as he lifted one hand slowly, giving me time to move away. When I didn’t, his fingers brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.

“Nothing I give you comes with a price.”

I looked at the man standing in front of me and saw the boy who had once been my safe haven. He was the teenager who left water and blankets in the barn because he knew I might need them when I had to hide. Ryder was the man who paid debts that weren’t his and repaired a house filled with memories he knew had nearly destroyed me.

All this time, I had thought the ranch belonged to my father, and maybe that was why I hated it. It held hard, painful memories. But it had also held some of the best ones… with the man standing in front of me.

My father had never loved this land. He had used it, neglected it, and nearly destroyed it. Just like he did with me. Ryder was the one who had cared for it and waited.

“I kept waiting for you today,” I admitted. His thumb swept softly over my cheek. “I told myself I didn’t care whether you came by, but I knew it was a lie.”

“Lila.”

“You didn’t come because you thought I might regret kissing you.”

His gaze darkened. “Did you?”

I shook my head and whispered, “No.” I stepped closer until barely an inch remained between us. “I didn’t kiss you because I was confused. I kissed you because I wanted to.”

His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, warm and firm, but he didn’t pull me closer. “You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

“Need you to be more than sure.”

I held his gaze and chuckled softly. “I thought about that kiss all night. I thought about it when I woke up, while I worked, and every time I kept glancing up hoping to see you.” I placed my hand against his chest, feeling the hard beat of his heart beneath my palm. “I came here because I wanted you.”

It was then that the last of his control disappeared. Ryder’s hand tightened at the back of my neck as he lowered his mouth to mine with a harsh groan. The kiss was deeper than the one we had shared last night, but it still carried that same careful restraint. He kissed me like he’d spent fourteen years imagining it and still didn’t trust that this was really happening.

I rose onto my toes and pressed closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting him feel the answer I couldn’t put into words.

A primal sound rumbled in his chest, and his free arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against the hard length of his body and lifting me slightly so my toes barely touched the porch as he held me. Everything seemed to disappear until there was only Ryder’s mouth and tongue and the steady strength of him holding me.

When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathing harder. His forehead rested against mine, and his voice came low and rough. “Tell me to stop.”

I shook my head. “Never. Take me inside.”

Ryder stared at me for one long, heated second before gripping my ass with his big, strong, and calloused palms, lifting me fully off the porch until I wrapped my legs around his waist, then carrying me toward the front door.

I'd spent fourteen years believing I'd escaped Rootstown Creek.

It turned out Ryder had spent those same fourteen years making sure I had something to come home to.