Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“All right,” I say. “Let’s stick with what I can document.”
Rhett’s dark gaze returns to mine, and he nods once. He shifts the conversation to route planning for tomorrow, and I welcome their input, pleased when their suggestions are close to what I was already planning. Whatever they might or might not know, maybe we’ll find more evidence out there tomorrow.
At one point, Rhett presses a spot near the corner of the map to flatten a crease, and the paper slides under my hand. I move to hold it, he reaches for it at the same time, and his hand ends up covering mine.
It’s an innocent touch, but my body doesn’t interpret it that way. The warmth of his skin immediately sets me on fire, heat blazing up my arm, into my chest, and down to my core.
His fingers are heavy over mine, his palm is rough, and my body wants more of his touch in more places. What would his rough palm feel like sliding down my arm, up my leg, or cupping my breast?
He doesn’t move his hand right away. In fact, both of us freeze, and the moment isn’t lost on Cade and Boone, whose eyes drop to where their brother’s hand covers mine.
“Sorry.” Rhett clears his throat and lifts his hand, and I try to act normal.
First, I need to start breathing again.
We spend another half hour reviewing terrain, and the conversation stays focused, but the charged feeling that came with Rhett’s accidental touch never goes away.
Eventually, I close my notebook. “I should go get some sleep.”
Thankfully, they don’t argue.
Boone gets to his feet first. “I’ll walk you out.”
But he’s not the only one. All three of them follow me toward the door.
In the narrow alcove of the entryway, Boone retrieves my coat and holds it out for me. His hands brush my shoulders through the fabric as he helps me into it, and even the light touch through a barrier is enough to provoke the butterflies in my stomach.
Boone opens the door, and all three brothers follow me out.
The porch light is on, but beyond its reach, the forest is black and silent. I don’t need to worry about nocturnal animals, though, because Boone is on one side of me, Rhett on the other, and Cade close behind.
My pulse ticks faster, and I want to tell them I can walk to my vehicle without an escort, much less three, but I don’t want to be rude. Part of me doesn’t even want to leave.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell them as Rhett opens my door.
“Come back, and we’ll feed you again,” Boone says.
“For work reasons?” I ask.
His eyes are warm. “Whatever reason gets you here.”
I get into my truck because continuing the conversation would be reckless in ways I don’t want to fully think about.
In my rearview mirror, I see all three of them watching me go. Same height, same dark good looks, same eyes that seem to follow me even after trees come between us. I tell myself I’m imagining that part, and as I drive back to my motel, I tell myself the dinner was professional, and the routes we planned matter more than the way Rhett’s hand felt on mine.
I’m not remembering Boone’s voice and replaying the way he said whatever gets you here, and I’m absolutely not thinking about Cade’s restraint and wondering what would happen if it broke.
I lie to myself during the whole drive back, and once I’m in bed, I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, still buzzing with electricity. It’s been a long, full day, and I’m tired enough that sleep should come quickly, but it doesn’t.
I’ve only known the Wilder brothers for three days, and I’m lying awake thinking about them. All three of them.
It’s wild. Wilder, an unhelpful part of my brain supplies.
I press the heel of my hand against my forehead. The problem isn’t that they’re attractive. That would be manageable.
What’s worse is the way Rhett leads effortlessly, the way Cade moves through the trees, and the way Boone explains local geography like he’s telling me a story instead of giving directions.
And beneath the men’s differences, their sameness keeps pulling at me. The way they stop as a unit and communicate with silent glances. The way they’re separate until something matters and they become one force with three bodies. The way they surrounded me on the way out to my truck …
Tomorrow, I’ll fully focus on my work. I’ll reposition cameras, collect better data, and avoid careless conclusions. Tomorrow night, I won’t let myself lie in bed thinking about three former Army Rangers who live in a cabin that feels more like an animal den.
But tonight, in the dark, I slip a hand into my pajamas and beneath the band of my underwear, where my flesh is sensitive and wet. It grows hotter and wetter when I imagine Rhett’s hand covering mine again, pressing, heavy and rough.