Page 41 of Saddle Storm

“It’s no iPhone 7, but it’ll do.” He pauses. “Hey can we get a picture soon?”

I grin back at him. “Thought you’d never ask. Bring that camera with you to the wedding this weekend. I look pretty damn good in a suit. Come on, help me with those pillows.”

“Max? Are you dressed? I’ll be ready in a—” Storm shrieks, the sound sharp and startled as she emerges from the hallway.

I look up in time to see her frozen, a wrapped towel clutched tight against her chest, blonde, darkened hair dripping down shoulders. And for half a second all I can do is stare. Her legs are bare, skin flushed from the heat of the shower, freckles on more parts of her than I ever allowed myself to imagine.

“Jesus Christ, Silas,” she breathes.

Water still clings to her arms, sliding over impressively muscular arms, curves. The towel barely doing its job. I drag my eyes up, forcing myself to meet her gaze, but the damage is done. Every inch of her feels real, vivid, and undeniable.

Jesus Christ is right.

I hold up my hands, blinking away what I know I won’t soon forget. Then immediately cover my eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I came up to see if you needed any help. I didn’t . . . see anything.”

I hear her huff and run into the bedroom, the door shutting.

Max giggles and winces at the same time. “At least we made up the sofa. Mom never lets anyone come by because there’s no place to sit. We hardly fold it up.”

I frown in his direction. “Didn’t seem that heavy.”

“Mom’s just too tired. And there’s too much to do at night. I was able to shower last night, but the hot water ran out, so we’re running late today.”

I nod. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you to school on time. Here, let’s try and be ready to head out by the time she is.” I grab his jacket and backpack. “Is this it?” I ask, my eyes scanning for anything he might need.

“Yep,” he answers, grabbing a bottle of water from the cupboard. “Ready.”

I hear the door open and Storm racing out, brush mid-stroke in her hair. Her cheeks are still flushed but she avoids my eyes as she mutters something about rudeness and privacy.

“To be fair, you did come out to your living room dripping wet in a towel.” I lift the paper cup from the counter and her cowboy hat off the hook by the front door. Then stride back toward her, setting the hat on her head.

She glares at me. “Because I heard voices, and—” Her eyes drop to the hot cup in my other hand. “Is that for me?”

I smirk. “Yes it is.”

She groans appreciatively and takes it. “Never mind, I’m ready.”

We pull in through the gates of my brothers’ ranch and I head straight toward the stables.

“Oh wait. I need to clock in at the ranch office. Can you drop me there?” She gathers her things and sighs, checking the time again. “I’m so late.”

“Ginger already did that,” I tell her, driving ahead without daring a glance at her when she turns a hard glare.

“What do you mean Ginger already did that?”

“I mean she was told forty-five minutes ago you were running late and to clock you in.”

She smacks my knee and I’m relieved it wasn’t my arm—not sure Storm would spare me pain. “Silas. You can’t do that. Ginger can’t do that. You’re gonna get us both fired.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh no. Does she think we were together—like all night?”

My grin is wide. “No. I texted Wilder and he told her to clock you in.”

“Wilder? So, he thinks we were together all night?” She shrieks.

“Will you calm down? I’m staying at his house, he saw me come home last night.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “Right. Still, I don’t like it. And I wish you used my truck to pick us up.” She glances back. “Max got coffee cake crumbs all over your back seat.”

I’m not about to tell her I noticed it as it was happening because that won’t do anyone any good.