Chapter 4

4

I should be showering, but I'm watching the guys hose off in my backyard instead. Being the tallest, Sammy is the one holding the hose. The guys strip down to their skivvies, yelling as they step under the cold water, goosebumps immediately breaking out over their bodies. Spencer must make a crude remark because Sammy sticks his thumb over the end of the hose and directs the spray at his face. I can't tear my eyes away as he tips his head back and laughs, his teeth nearly blinding in the sunlight. He's so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him. All that taut, dark skin painted over thick muscles?—

"Darlin', if you're going to stand there watching them, do you mind if I use the shower?" Liam asks, poking his head through the crack in the bathroom door.

I startle, pressing my hand against my heart as I turn toward him, cheeks flaming. I peek at him through my eyelashes, then squeeze my eyes closed when my gaze catches on a bead of water sliding down his chest.

"Sorry. They just look like they're having so much fun. Give me five minutes, and the bathroom will be all yours. "

"Fun, hey?" he asks, biting his lip and winking before pulling the door closed, leaving me to wallow in embarrassment.

I take the quickest shower of my life, towel off, pull on my robe, and call down to Liam before crossing the hallway to my bedroom. The bed creaks as I sit down and towel-dry my hair before raking through an air-dry serum. I get lost in thought, and the next thing I know, Liam opens the bathroom door, clenching a towel around his hips, steam clinging to his skin. He looks up and sees me sitting right there, in full view of the bathroom door, as if I was waiting for him like some peeping Tom.

"Sorry," I croak, ducking my head, but not before I get a good eyeful. My mouth dries up like the Sahara Desert.

"Sorry for what?" he asks, shaking the water from his shaggy brown hair, droplets raining down over his chest.

"I wasn't planning on sitting here like a creep when you walked out of the bathroom. You deserve privacy."

"I don't even know what the word privacy means anymore," he chuckles. "Thank you for letting me use your shower."

"You're welcome," I whisper as he turns to walk down the hallway, trying not to notice the way his muscles taper down his back or the gnarly mark on his shoulder blade.

"What is that?" I ask, walking over to him without realizing what I'm doing, tracing my finger over the bumpy skin.

He shivers under my touch, going preternaturally still. "It's my family's ranch brand," he says softly. "Everyone in my family has one. It's the mark we give the cattle on our ranch."

"Did it hurt?" I ask, running my finger over it again, fascinated.

"Yes," he says, his voice hoarse.

*Liam POV*

I swallow hard, refusing to say what's on the tip of my tongue—that I would gladly re-live the pain every single fucking day if it meant she would be standing close to me like this, running her fingers over my skin .

I've made it three years. Three years of pretending not to notice the glances she casts my way. Three years of not returning them. Three years of flushing cheeks. Three years of wondering what other places might flush.

This is going to be the year that breaks me.

When I opened the bathroom door and saw her sitting on her bed, practically drowning in that fluffy white robe, those wide hazel doe eyes drawing me in, I almost fell to my knees and confessed right there. I don't move a single muscle while she examines my shoulder, terrified I won't be able to control myself if I turn and meet her gaze, that I won't be able to resist those rosebud lips for one single goddamned second longer.

As badly as I want her, I know I can't ruin this—whatever this is. I can't risk losing her. Yes, she's my boss, but she's become so much fucking more than that. I would sell my soul for this woman without a second thought.

"Did you use my body wash?" she asks, leaning closer, her nose skimming my neck. "You smell good."

Fuck. Me. I take a deep breath, then curse myself when it's only her I can smell. "Yeah," I say roughly, "We'll have to grab some regular soap when we go grocery shopping."

"You don't like the smell?" she asks, a hitch in her voice.

I steel my shoulders, clenching my jaw before I turn and plow my hand between her legs to find out what she really smells like. I bet it's cotton candy. Or peaches.

The second she lifts her hand from my shoulder, I stalk down the hallway without looking back. I know without a shadow of a doubt that if she sees my face right now, she would know exactly what I'm thinking. She'd see it in my eyes...and other places. Once I'm out of view, I press my back against the wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths as I try to wrangle my body under control. There's no room for mistakes in this house, no way to hide the effect she has on me. At least in the bunkhouse, there were multiple showers, so I had plenty of time to tug one out when I needed to. That's not going to be so easy here .

Sam passes me on his way to the bathroom, flashing a sympathetic smile. "It isn't going to be easy, man."

He can say that again. Pen's tinkling laugh floats down the hallway, and jealousy pricks at my heart. I immediately slam the door closed on that emotion. There's no place for jealousy in this house. Groaning, I scrub my hands over my face. I'm so fucking screwed.

Twenty minutes later, I'm sitting on the couch dressed in the only clean clothes I have. I hear Penny's faltering step on the stairs, and when she starts talking to herself, I get up to see if she needs help. My heart stops in my chest. Gone is the Penny that wears gaudy coveralls and chicken print wellies. This is Penelope .

"Is this too much?" she asks, smoothing her hands over a cream-colored dress with tiny yellow flowers, billowy sleeves extending just past her elbow.

When I just stare at her, she lowers her gaze and starts fiddling nervously with the charms on her chunky necklace. I clear my throat and try to talk, but nothing comes out. I try again.

"You look—fuck." My voice cracks, and I drag my hand over my face, mortified.

Her dark eyebrows almost hit her hairline and she giggles, her eyes sparkling as she pads down the stairs on bare feet, her cute little toes painted a peachy pink.

"You forgot to put your earrings back in." She holds out her hand, three earrings nestled in her palm. "Want me to help?"

"Yes, please," I croak, nearly choking as she stops on the last stair, a cloud of her scent enveloping me. I try to hold my breath while she puts my earrings in, but instead, I find myself inhaling deeply through my nose, trying to breathe in as much of her as possible.

"You look nice," she murmurs, her gaze sliding down over my crisp white t-shirt and jeans.

"I'm glad you think so because this is all I have." I grab my hat from the table by the stairs, worrying the brim, keeping my hands busy so I don't do something stupid like touch her.

"We'll have to fix that. I can take you guys shopping this weekend— it'll be like a reverse Pretty Woman!" She jumps up and down excitedly, her hair bouncing just above her shoulders.

"You need to save your money, Penny."

"Insurance will pay me something eventually, and you guys need to replace the possessions you lost. I know the living situation sucks, but you at least need some autonomy." She tucks her knuckle under my chin, lifting it, running her fingertips over my two-day-old stubble. "Maybe some razors, too? God knows I could use one, too. I don't know the last time I shaved." She pats my cheek, smiling at me before heading into the kitchen.

I sag against the wall, letting my head thump against it as I close my eyes and will my heartbeat to calm the fuck down. It's difficult when she put the image of her shaving into my head. I don't even care, honestly. She could turn into a hairy beast at night, and it wouldn't change how I feel. But now I can't stop thinking about lathering her up with shaving cream and—I ram my hat on my head and walk outside. I need to get my head on straight before we go out tonight, or I'm liable to trap her in dark corner and ask her what I am to her. I need to get a fucking grip.