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“That,” he said low against her hair, “is exactly why I can’t stay away.”

Chapter Eight

Wyatt dropped the last of his gear inside the door and looked around the room he’d been assigned to the veteran’s lodge. Plain, functional. A bed, a dresser and a window looking over the community garden that the whole ranch was invited to tend.

Not a bad view for a vagabond, but best of all, it was across the hall from Whitley’s, close enough to go to her if she needed him.

He still felt the warmth of her tucked against his chest those nights while she was in the infirmary. Slowly her fever had broken and her skin had returned to a healthier tone, warm and golden.

He placed his bag on the bed and began unpacking the few possessions he’d brought to the Black Heart. A few changes of clothes for when he wasn’t in uniform. Toiletries. And a special rock he’d picked up on the mountain before he discovered Whitley hiding on it.

He’d carried it in his pocket ever since. It was smooth, with a depression perfect for rubbing his thumb against. The swirls of brown and gray held some shinier mineral that caught the sunlight.

He rubbed his thumb across it now, thinking back to the night he found Whitley. Two weeks ago now. The days in between brought a lot of changes to their lives. She had her health back. He’d lost his place in the training program.

Still holding the rock, he drifted to the open door and started with surprise to see Whitley leaning in her own doorframe.

A stupid smile spread over his face before he thought to stop it.

“You’re my neighbor now?”

“Guess so.” He leaned a shoulder into his own doorframe, drinking in the sight of her.

Her arms were folded across her chest, and his smile spread wider to see her wearing a T-shirt with the Black Heart Ranch logo. Apparently the ladies around here had hooked her up with a wardrobe, which was necessary since she arrived here with only a daypack filled with essentials and the clothes on her back—which they’d cut off.

During the past two weeks, he still wasn’t used to Whitley’s striking beauty. Clear skin, long lashes, a graceful arch to her neck that only seemed sexier with those dreadlocks skating across her skin.

After so many nights with her in the infirmary—many spent with her tucked against his side after nightmares woke her—he knew the way she felt in his arms. Knew the smell of her skin.

Right now his body ached with how badly he wanted to feel her against him again. Those few kisses they’d shared had confused and excited the hell out of him. He didn’t know where any of this was going—where it could go. He only knew he didn’t like being away from her when work pulled him back to the security office.

His stare lingered for another beat on her plump lips, then he fixed his gaze on hers. “Since I’m off the training roster for this cycle, they kicked me out of the barracks. Gabe offered me a room here.”

“Lucky me.” She said it without any edge to it and maybe even a lilt of relief in her voice. “I was starting to think I’d be haunting this hallway alone. Willow said this new addition on the lodge isn’t yet at full capacity.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for several heartbeats. What he’d learned over the past couple weeks was that silence between them could be thoughtful or charged with that invisible hum that never seemed to fade. But it was never uncomfortable.

She had a ready smile for him that brightened her whole face. One glance had his chest tightening and desire stirring low in his body.

“Well,” she said. “Welcome to the lodge.”

“Thanks.” He scrubbed a knuckle over his jaw for something to do besides cross the hallway and take her in his arms.

She pushed off the doorframe. “See ya around.” Her gaze flicked up to his Stetson. “Cowboy.”

He issued a low grunt and watched her turn back into her room, hips twitching in the lounge pants she wore.

She didn’t close her door. In fact, both of their doors had remained open ever since he began moving in.

The friendship came easier than he expected, given the situation weighing on both of them. Her recovery, her safety, the investigation he was working closely on with the team. Somehow, none of that seeped into the hours they spent together. Mornings and lunches and the occasional evening on the lodge deck never included talk about those worries.

A week or so later, he found her at their usual table in the dining hall, already sawing into a steak with enthusiasm. Brussels sprouts were pushed to the far edge of her plate, untouched.

“You’re not going to eat those?” He set his own tray next to hers and slipped into a seat at the round table.

“I ate my body weight in foraged plants for two months.” She didn’t look up. “I’ve earned the right to never eat another vegetable.”

He huffed out a laugh. Any time the lodge chef prepared steak, Whitley was here waiting for the largest cut.