Page 164 of That Rush

His gaze drifts toward the shelves. “They could hold records.”

“Do ranch records require floor-to-ceiling storage?”

“We keep thorough records.”

I walk to the mountain-facing window. The old latch opens without a fight. I look down at the floorboards, solid and new, then at the clean line of new wiring along the wall. “You didn’t just fix the door.”

“It was all overdue.” He gestures toward the shelves. “Dangerous wiring, rotten floor. The place needed a use.”

“For ranch records?” I run my fingers over the sanded edge of the built-in desk he’s refinished, stripping away years of damage to find the dark grain beneath.

“You’ve done all this since we came in here?”

“I had help with the floor and electrical work.”

I turn toward the empty corner. A new outlet sits low on the wall beside it.

“For a lamp?”

“You said the reading chair should go there.”

My gaze returns to him. “I said that once.”

“You were specific.”

“I was joking about hiding in here with books and snacks.”

“You weren’t joking about the books.”

No, I wasn’t. I described the room I would make if someone handed me four walls, a door, and permission to disappear. Aiden listened closely enough to remember where I put the chair.

My throat tightens around a smile. He took a detail I’d forgotten saying and built from it like a set of measurements worth keeping.

“Why?” My voice is quieter than I intended.

His gaze moves over my face. “The building needed a use.”

“That explains the repair. It doesn’t explain why you remembered every part of my imaginary library.”

“You like books.”

“Excellent work, Detective Slade.”

He steps closer. “And quiet. Mountain views. A door you can close when you’re tired of people.”

“Specific people?”

“Civilization, apparently.”

“And you?”

“I’ll knock.”

The answer lands differently, bypassing the defenses his certainty usually raises. I catch the front of his shirt and pull him down.

His mouth meets mine hard enough to steal the next smart remark. One hand closes around my hip while the other braces against the unfinished shelves behind me. He draws the kiss out until I open for him, his tongue stroking mine as his grip on my hip tightens.

My shoulders touch smooth pine. Aiden immediately slides his palm behind my back, protecting me from the rougher frame as he presses his body along mine. His thigh settles between my legs, and the pressure makes my fingers tighten in his shirt.