Page 102 of One Wild Chance

“But we never even dated.”

“I know. But secretly I wanted to.” I drag a hand through my hair. “You were so smart, and I loved your sass. You knew the horses better than me, too. Guess that’s why I was so intimidated by you⁠—”

“You were?”

“Every time you walked in the barn,” I say with a grin.

“But I always thought you…didn’t like me.”

“At first, I didn’t,” I admit with a chuckle. “I hated when you beat me at things. But over time, I wanted to lose to you, because it meant I got to spend more time with you.” My voice drops low. “I waited fourteen years to kiss you, Wildflower.” I let my palm stay on that door, hoping to hold on to this memory a little longer. “I’ve always been waiting for you.”

Then I back away, knowing that standing here will only leave me wanting something I can’t have.

“I should probably go now,” I say.

“Jaxon…don’t.”

Don’t? There’s a pause on the other side of the door that makes me think she’s reconsidering this whole “let’s take it slow” agreement.

“I was wondering—” She stops. “Do you have any pajamas I could borrow? I’ll wash whatever you give me.”

“Uh, sure,” I say, clearing my throat. “Obviously, you need pajamas.”

“Sorry, I know that’s probably not what you—” She pauses again. “I just didn’t realize I’d be staying over.”

“It’s okay,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. I already know that Summer wearing my shirt is going to wreck me. But she can’t sleep in dirty clothes. “Give me a second to find something.”

I come back with an old Carolina Crushers jersey and a pair of joggers I hope she can cinch tight enough to stay around her waist, and set them on the floor outside the door.

It isn’t until I’m sitting on the edge of my bed that I let myself admit how much I want to be part of Summer’s life every day, and not just for the next two years.

I want to make her food and laugh with her, sit on the porch swing and watch the sun set. I want to ride horses together and let her borrow my clothes so I can catch her floral scent on them.

I don’t want just parts of her; I crave all of her. And that means one thing: I refuse to share her with anyone else.

A soft knock pulls my attention to the door.

She steps inside, wearing my old team jersey—way too big on her, with sleeves past her elbows—and my joggers tied at the waist, the fabric pooling around her ankles.

Whoa.

I’ve seen a lot of facets of Summer since I arrived. But this version, in my jersey with my name on the back, might be the one I’m least prepared for. My heart immediately punches against my rib cage.

“Hey,” she says shyly, totally unaware of the power she holds over me in that shirt.

“Hey.” I stand, unsure if I should stay where I am or close the gap between us. I know which choice I’d make if she’d let me. And I’d choose it for the rest of my life if I knew she was ready.

“I wanted to say thank you for everything tonight.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“You don’t have to…”

Before I can finish, she crosses the room and presses a kiss to my cheek, lingering there a beat longer than what I’d expect from a simple thank-you.

I close my eyes, letting the sensation of her lips hit me like a drug. Everything in me wants to turn my head a few inches and find her mouth instead, to slip my fingers across the small of her back and pull her body toward mine. Then cup her face and stroke my thumb over her mouth before covering her lips with my own.

But after everything we’ve said tonight, I know it’s not the right time.

“Good night,” she says, turning to go.