A protective growl rumbles in my throat. It guts me that she’s still carrying this around. Bending her entire life around it.

She gives me a thin smile, eyes dropping to my mouth for a beat before lifting to meet my gaze. “The real kicker is that you, Emmett Brandt, might be the only man in the world I’d trust not to take advantage of me, even at my most vulnerable. So, I guess the reason I haven’t been out with anyone else is because none of them are you.”

A sharp pain hits me in the chest as her words land like arrows in the heart. She laughs it off, but there’s no humor in the sound.

None of them are you.

“Jules,” I whisper as I drink her in. The way she’s looking at me? The sentiment?

It all leaves me shaken.

In my life, I have been wanted. I have been fought over. Hell, I’ve been hated. But I don’t know if I’ve ever been admired for my morals. Put on a pedestal. Revered as inherently good.

Not like this. Not by someone like her. And it fucking terrifies me. I’m a good man underneath all my faults, but I’m also really good at letting women down, so this admission is all new. It makes my heart race, and my skin go hot. My entire body feels like it’s vibrating—energized by the way she sees me.

But my brain? My brain is freaking out. On one hand, everything feels so fucking right. On the other… this is the path I swore I would never go down. And the level of responsibility that comes with being this person for her feels like a heavy burden to bear.

“Listen,” I say, drawing away slightly. I need some breathing room between us before I push her away. It will make it easier on me, keep me from yanking her in and kissing her senseless.

But when I straighten, my gaze catches on a new group of people pulling up stools at the bar. People I recognize immediately because they are the day crew for Romance Ranch. Out for drinks after a long day of work.

My alarm must register because Julia turns to see what’s caught my attention. Within moments, she puts the pieces together and steps away from me, cheeks flushed.

Her lips part as though she’s about to say something, but before she can, I attempt to ease the discomfort flickering in her eyes. “We should go. There’s a back exit,” I say, trying to ignore the way she winces before nodding her agreement. “I just don’t want to—”

“Definitely,” she says, voice squeaking as she turns and walks away from me without another word.

I follow her down the darkened hallway into the stillness of the just-fallen night. She gets into my truck before I can open the door and lift her in. I don’t look at her thighs, and she barely glances at me when I slide into the driver’s seat.

Clearly the reality check of almost having been caught out together is a rude awakening for us both.

“Well, it’s a great spot. I can see why you’d want to take the girls there,” she says, keeping her tone bright while completely avoiding addressing the tension between us. “I’ll write up a brief for Richard and reach out to management about filming.”

I nod, silent, because the first words on the tip of my tongue are: I don’t want to bring anyone else there.

She fills the space with chatter about spots to set cameras, having taken more stock of the space than I realized.

It forces my brain to face the reality of our situation. Her budding career, my contract, all that money for the farm.

I drive through the streets of Emerald Lake, listening but not really hearing. Because in my head I’m still on that dance floor. Her arms around my neck, her hips pressed against mine, her confession hanging heavy and heartfelt between us.

When we get back to her condo, she scoots out of my truck fast. She offers me a parting wave, and a forced “Thanks for the drink!” before scurrying back into her building.

In any other situation like this, I’d feel like I dodged a bullet. But tonight, it feels like I took one square in the chest.

Guilt racks me because I should have said something. She poured her heart out to me, and I took the easy way out. Letting the moment slip through my fingers like the finest grains of sand.

And for once it wasn’t because a woman was telling me things I didn’t want to hear.

It was exactly what I wanted to hear.

And that terrifies me.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 23

Julia

Emmett

Hey, are you around today?

Emmett

What about today? I need to talk to you about the bar.

Emmett

Jules. Stop avoiding me.

“Honestly, Julia, you can’t just go rogue like this. It’s unprofessional,” Richard scolds me.

My mouth gapes as I stare back at him, his harsh delivery rendering me speechless. But more than that, I am just plain confused by the fact that Emmett has changed his answer regarding which bar we should film at.

I’ve been ignoring Emmett’s texts in the name of professionalism—we have nothing to talk about. We almost got busted out together and that was enough to scare me straight.

But today he’s going to get a fucking earful of unprofessionalism. Because I have things to say.

If his wishy-washy bullshit costs me that reference, I’ll kill him before he gets to pick a wife.

Dick Wad sits at his desk in the utility trailer, shuffling paper. He isn’t furious, but he’s definitely talking to me like I’m an idiot. Sunlight streams through the open door, highlighting his coiffed hair and pale eyes.

All I know is that I don’t want to be added to his blacklist.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, or are you just going to stand there gaping at me?”

I snap my mouth shut. “Sorry, I just… this was the bar that…”

Emmett took me to?

How do I explain this to my boss without getting one of us in trouble? Because as much as Emmett’s deer-in-the-headlights reaction to my confession on that ancient dance floor after a couple sips of liquor rankles me, I don’t want to get him in trouble with the boss.

There’s too much on the line for him and his family, and I can’t let my pride get in the way of that.

I straighten and stare back at the older man, refusing to cower. “You told me to find a good country bar. Someone recommended it to me.”

“Well, how about more due diligence next time? When I showed Emmett the pitch for this scene, he said he’d never take the girls there. It looks like a fucking dive. And I need Casanova on board because he’s proving to be a frigid pain in my ass.”

My molars clamp together as I let myself daydream about pushing Emmett down the slopes of Prickle Point.

Because why the hell is he changing his pick for a bar and throwing me under the bus like this?

“Yes, sir, of course. I apologize.” I bite the words out, but Richard doesn’t seem to notice or care about the edge to my tone. He’s too busy… filing his nails?

My nose wrinkles as I realize the file is what he was looking for among the sheets on his desk. Fine white powder scatters over the papers, and I cringe.

The guy has no fucking boundaries.

“Good. Now you can put all that fancy education to use today and fix this. I want to record at The Ranch on Saturday for the elimination ceremony. It looks like the perfect place to give viewers a taste of country life with our bull rider playboy.”

I bite my tongue and focus on not exploding or running from this trailer in horror.