Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(15)

Harley was sure that Camille was speaking about how well Wyatt broke the horses, and not any future with the fire department. But she also knew Wyatt heard what he wanted to hear, that this dream to dance with fire was his.

“I don’t fear it either,” Truman said.

Wyatt grinned and reached to ruffle Truman’s wavy, dark hair. Ava was called away by Kate. They’d turned on a movie in the main room of the house and were gearing up to camp out in that room.

“Where is the pocket?” Truman asked, now staring at the fire.

“Ah, now you’re going to have to get Easton to teach you that. He’s the flame whisperer.”

Truman made it to his feet and around the fire to sit next to Easton and Memphis. Wyatt casually moved to his side, only barely, making it seem like he only wanted to sit more so on the blanket that they all had been sharing.

It had taken him hours, hours of gazing at Harley through the flames to make his way around the fire to her side. Even now, he was still a few feet away from her, but no one was close to them, so in a way they had found a safe place, their momentary pocket.

He wasn’t sure what to say to her, if he should bring up what she talked about at the creek or if he should just wait until the moment was breathing down their necks. Before he could even weigh his options, she spoke in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t mean to make it weird. I mean, I didn’t mean to sound so forward.”

He bit his lip before he spoke, knowing a shy smile was daring to surface. “Have you been thinking about it for a while?” His voice was husky, his mouth dry. He hated this barrier, these invisible chains around him. He wanted to hold her as he said those words, he wanted to cradle her face in his hand, let his thumb graze across her cheekbone, look deep inside those eyes that the fire was dancing within.

A flush kissed her cheeks as she tilted her head and her strawberry blonde hair fell over her shoulders. That was her silent ‘yes.’ He had learned to read her body long ago, her gestures. They spoke a thousand words a day without saying a word.

“I have, too,” he admitted in a deep whisper.

Her eyes flicked to him as a cautious smile dangled on her lips.

“We’ll know when it’s right. We’ll make it perfect,” he promised, letting his eyes connect with hers, daring not to care that his family, his mother, was just across the fire.

That night, Harley couldn’t sleep; her heart hurt. She hated knowing that each day brought her to an end, at least for now, that she didn’t want to face. Her mind raced through every avenue she could take, every bold move she could make. No matter what, someone would be in pain.

If she dared to be reckless and leave behind her family the moment she turned eighteen, threw everything away, it would destroy her father, break him. She couldn’t handle that.

If she walked the line a while longer, if she kept the seas of her life calm and promised herself she would find her way back to Wyatt, the awareness of that absence between one point to the next seemed so vast that it tore her heart.

All she wanted was Wyatt and her father’s blessing; the money truly meant nothing to her. In fact, she was sure that her life would be more peaceful without the weight of it. The closest she came to an answer was to convince Camille and her father somehow to let Wyatt travel to her and train Danny Boy. Even that solution didn’t sit well with her, knowing it would cause Wyatt to put his life on hold, trash his dreams.

There seemed to be no way out, which made the moments she wanted to stretch on forever move as fast as the speed of light.





Chapter Four



It didn’t rain the next day—it poured—which kept everyone including the horses inside, meaning there were no stolen moments; there were barely any private ones beyond sleep.

Harley woke before the sun the day after, wanting to steal any second she could with Wyatt, wanting somehow to make up for the day Mother Nature had so wantonly stolen from them.

Just as she approached the barn, the lights clicked on, beaming in the dark dawn of the day; it was Wyatt, waiting for her. Together, they always fed the horses that rode in the first lessons, walked the barn all alone before the farm hands showed up and brought the farm to life.

Just as they dropped the last feed bucket, Wyatt pulled her into a stall, his hands cradling her face as he moved her against the wall. Their breaths were already racing; it was always like this, this intense when they had gone a day without the slightest stolen moment. She lunged forward, capturing his lips. He deepened that kiss, devouring her lips as his hands slid down her face, her neck. When they reached her chest, she gasped and arched her back into his touch. His grip tightened for a second before he lost control and reached down for her legs, picking them up and wrapping them around him as he pressed her into the wall. Her hands rushed through his hair as they swallowed each other’s near silent moans and he rocked into her. He reached back to her knee, then slid forward; she held him tighter, wanting him closer, wanting to savor every sensation. Just as his hand reached the warmth of her, as she let out a gasp, they heard the distant rumble of laughter, a few of the horses grunting and neighing in response.

The staff was showing up. Silently, their kiss ended. He lowered her feet to the stall floor, careful not to make a sound, then nodded for her to leave the stall with the bucket they walked in with. By the time she had stepped out of the stall and grabbed the wheelbarrow, Wyatt was walking in the barn from behind the staff. He’d crawled up through the hayloft and made his way around.