Just friends.
That’s all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been.
Sure, he’s a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take
over his family’s ranch. Yes, I’ve had a secret crush on him since we were
seventeen. And who wouldn’t appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest,
and the way he fills out a pair of Levis?
He makes a girl sweat just looking at him . . . and I look. A
lot.
But I’m a single mom trying to move on with my life, and he’s
running that ranch single-handedly while taking care of his elderly father. We
don’t even live in the same state. I only returned to my hometown of Bellamy
Creek to sell my late mother’s house, and he just invited me and my son to stay
with him because he’s got a big heart.
That’s not the only big thing he’s got--which I discover the
night I finally sneak across the hall to his bedroom and shed my inhibitions
right alongside my pajamas. And once we give into each other, we can’t stop.
The hayloft. The bed of his truck. The dock by the pond.
Nothing has ever felt so right, but his past has taught him
not to believe in happily ever after, and every perfect night I spend in his
arms brings us closer to goodbye.
Like any cowboy, he’s good
with a rope and knows exactly how to tie me up.
But what if I want him to tie
me down?
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Excerpt
When Beckett reached the landing, he
headed for his bedroom.
“Night.”
I opened my mouth to say goodnight—I
swear I did.
But that’s not what came out.
“I need to tell you something,” I
blurted.
He turned and faced me.
“I want to answer your question.” My heart
raced, and my fingers locked over my stomach.
“What question?”
“You asked me—last night—why I always
chose jerks.”
“You said you didn’t know.”
“I lied. I do know.”
He was silent a moment. “So tell me.”
I took a step toward him. “I chose
jerks because they didn’t ask anything of me. They didn’t expect anything of me. They didn’t even want much from me—just
skin.”
Beckett took a deep breath, his chest
expanding.
“That’s why I couldn’t be with you,”
I whispered.
“Because you think I would have
expected perfection?”
“Because you would have deserved it.”
He exhaled and shook his head.
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m sorry. This is stupid.” I
squeezed my eyes shut a moment. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this
right now. It’s not like I can go back and do things differently. I guess I
just wish I would have been brave enough to tell you the truth back then.”
“What’s the truth?”
“That I wish I could have been yours.
I know you would have been good to me.”
He said nothing for ten full seconds,
during which my heart banged painfully against my ribs and I regretted
everything.
“Listen, forget I said anything,” I
said quickly. “I don’t know what Blair puts in that apple pie, but—”
“I have something to tell you too.”
I swallowed. “You do?”
“Yeah. Several things, actually.” He
moved closer to me, so close I could feel his breath on my lips. “First, I’m
glad you finally answered my question. It’s been bothering me for fifteen
years. Second, you’re right. I would have been good to you. And third, no—we
can’t go back and do things differently. The past is past.”
“Yes. Well, goodnight.” Tears of
mortification burning my eyes, I spun away from him, but he grabbed my arm.
“But there’s one more thing.”
“What?” I whispered.
“I sleep with my bedroom door open.
But I want you to think hard before you take advantage of that. Because I’m not
eighteen anymore, and I’m no longer in the mood to be a gentleman.”
Then he let go of my arm and
disappeared across the hall.
With my legs trembling, I slipped
into my room, shut the door and leaned back against it, fanning my face.
Holy. S%&t.
He’d left it up to me.
But his invitation was clear. I
hadn’t imagined it.
And before I thought about it too
hard and blew my chance to be with him, I raced into the bathroom, pulled my
braids out, and brushed my teeth. Back in my bedroom, I whipped off my clothes
and pulled on the pineapple-print tank and matching shorts I’d brought to sleep
in. Not exactly my sexiest lingerie, but in my defense, seduction hadn’t been
on my to-do list when I’d packed my bags.
Then I took a deep breath, opened my
door, and snuck across the hall.
About Melanie Harlow
USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she's not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like Schitt’s Creek, Homeland, and Fleabag. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.
Melanie
is the author of the CLOVERLEIGH FARMS series, the ONE & ONLY series, AFTER
WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy
historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance
readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her
husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.
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