Page 51 of The Lonely Road

Make her come.

But, I don’t. Instead, I put my hands on the steering wheel and grip hard.

This feels wrong.

More than wrong to take advantage of our attraction to one another when I’m here on false pretenses.

For a man who always knew he was morally flexible, this inflexibility is surprising and devastating.

“Mason,” she whispers.

“Go inside,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “Before I forget how this is supposed to go.”

She gives me a measured look and then nods.

“Goodnight, Mr. Brooks.” There’s the tilt of tease in her tone as if she wants to lighten the moment.

“Goodnight, Counselor.”

I want to walk her to her door, but if I do, I don’t know if I can resist the temptation to go all the way into her bedroom and inside of her.

She gets out, walks to the door, and I think she won’t look back.

She does.

She waves, and then she’s gone.

Then I drive back to the Ridgeline and into the canyon’s dark that doesn’t reflect anything.

Jessup’s name is in my phone, and the file on Taya Morningstar is in my encrypted drive, and neither of them has been touched in a couple of days.

That doesn’t usually happen.

My emotions are a muddle, and for a man who is usually emotionless, this is concerning.

CHAPTER 12

taya

April arrives in Wildflower Canyon not with fanfare but with tentative permission, like it’s dipping its toe in the pool to see how cold it really is.

The snow pulls back from the lower slopes.

The creek behind my cottage runs faster and louder.

The mornings still bite, but by noon the sun has real intention behind it, and people emerge from their winter selves blinking and grateful, like they’d forgotten this was possible.

And through all this, there is Mason.

He and I have spent nearly every evening together.

In public.

There have been kisses on my porch, but nothing else.

I don’t mind it.

I’ve always preferred to take it slow in relationships. To wait before getting intimate. I’ve never been profligate with myself—until I’m comfortable, until I feel safe. It’s who I am. I have no beef with people who can maintain a gap between emotions and physicality—but, alas, I am not one of them.