heard Chase behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, turning to face him.
But her words were cut off by what he did next. He took one step toward her, closing the distance between them as he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her up against his chest. Then, before she could protest, before she could say anything, he was kissing her again.
This was different than the kiss at the restaurant. This was different than...well, than any kiss in the whole history of the world.
His kiss tasted of the familiarity of Chase and the strangeness of his anger. Of heat and lust and rage all rolled into one.
She knew him better than she knew almost anyone. Knew the shape of his face, knew his scent, knew his voice. But his scent surrounding her like this, the feel of his face beneath her hands, the sound of that voice—transformed into a feral, passionate growl as he continued to ravish her—was an unknown. Was something else entirely.
Then, suddenly—just as suddenly as he had initiated it—the kiss was over. He released his hold on her, pushing her back. There was nothing but air between them now. Air and a whole lot of feelings. He was standing there, his hands planted on his lean hips, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. “Six point five?” he asked, his tone challenging. “That sure as hell was no six point five, Anna Brown, and if you’re honest with yourself, you have to admit that.”
She sucked in a harsh, unsteady breath, trying to keep the shock from showing on her face. “I don’t have to admit any such thing.”
“You’re a little liar.”
“What does it matter?” she asked, scowling.
“How would you like it if I told you that you were only average compared to other women I’ve kissed?”
“I’d shut your head in the truck door.”
“Exactly.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So don’t think I’m going to let the same insults stand, honey.”
“Don’t babe me,” she spat. “Don’t honey me.”
Triumph glittered in his dark eyes. The smugness so certain it was visible even in the moonlight. “Then don’t kiss me again.”
“You were the one who kissed me!” she shouted, throwing her arms wide.
“This time. But you started it. Don’t do it again.” He turned around, heading back toward his truck. All she could do was stand there and stare as he drove away.
Something had changed tonight. Something inside of her. She didn’t think she liked it at all.
“Now, I don’t want to be insensitive or hurt your feelings, princess, but why are you being such an asshole today?”
Chase looked over at Sam, who was staring at him from his position by the forge. The fire was going hot and they were pounding out iron, doing some repairs on equipment. By hand. Just the way both of them liked to work.
“I’m not,” Chase said.
“Right. Look, there’s only room for one of us to be a grumpy cuss, and I pretty much have that position filled. So I would appreciate it if you can get your act together.”
“Sorry, Sam, are you unable to take what you dish out every day?”
“What’s going on with you and Anna?”
Chase bristled at the mention of the woman he’d kissed last night. Then he winced when he remembered the kiss. Well, remembered was the wrong word. He’d never forgotten it. But right now he was mentally replaying it, moment by moment. “What did you hear?”
Sam laughed. An honest-to-God laugh. “Do I look like I’m on the gossip chain? I haven’t talked to anybody. It’s just that I saw her leaving your house last night wearing a red dress and sneakers, and then saw her this morning when she went into the shop. She was pissier than you are.”
“Anna is always pissy.” Sam treated his statement to a prolonged stare. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just that her brothers bet her that she couldn’t get a date. I figured I would help her out with that.”
“How?”
“Well...” he said, hesitating about telling his brother the whole story. Sam wasn’t looking to change the business on the ranch. He didn’t care about their family legacy. Not like Chase did. But Chase had made promises to tombstones and he wasn’t about to break them.
It was one of their main sources of contention. So he wasn’t exactly looking forward to having this conversation with his older brother.
But it wasn’t like he could hide it forever. He’d just sort of been hoping he could hide it until he’d shown up with investment money.
“That’s an awfully long pause,” Sam said. “I’m willing to bet that whatever you’re about to say, I’m not going to like it.”
“You know me well. Anna got invited to go to the big community charity event that the West family hosts every year. Now I want to make sure that we can extend our contract with them. Plus...doing horseshoes and gates isn’t cutting it. We can move into doing details on custom homes. To doing art pieces and selling our work across the country, not just locally. To do that we need investors. And the West fund-raiser’s a great place to find them. Plus, if I only have to wear a suit once and can speak to everyone in town that might be interested in a single shot? Well, I can’t beat that.”
“Dammit, Chase, you know I don’t want to commit to something like that.”
“Right. You want to continue on the way we always have. You want to shoe horses when we can, pound metal when the opportunity presents itself, build gates, or whatever else might need doing, then go off and work on sculptures and things in your spare time. But that’s not going to be enough. Less and less is done by hand, and people aren’t willing to pay for handcrafted materials. Machines can build cheaper stuff than we can.
“But the thing is, you can make it look special. You can turn it into something amazing. Like you did with my house. It’s the details that make a house expensive. We can have the sort of clients who don’t want work off an assembly line. The kind who will pay for one of a kind pieces. From art on down to the handles on their kitchen cabinets. We could get into some serious custom work. Vacation homes are starting to spring up around here, plus people are renovating to make rentals thanks to the tourism increase. But we need some investors if we’re really going to get into this.”
“You know I hate this. I don’t like the idea of charging a ton of money for a...for a gate with an elk on it.”
“You’re an artist, Sam,” he said, watching his brother wince as he said the words. “I know you hate that. But it’s true.”
“I hate that, too.”
“You’re talented.”
“I hit metal with a hammer. Sometimes I shape it
