Done and Dusted (Rebel Blue Ranch, #1)

by Lyla Sage

It made me wonder how she’d look wrapped up in bedsheets. But not just any bedsheets–my bedsheets.

Emmy Ryder had burrowed her way under my skin in a way I was not expecting. What the hell was I supposed to do about that?

When it came to Emmy, I was playing with fire, but I would happily walk into the flames for her. And I’d have a smile on my face the whole damn time.

You are weak, Clementine Ryder, I thought to myself. One backward baseball cap, and I was throwing all my opinions on muscle tees out the window.

Any sort of reservation I had about doing this flew out the window. I wasn’t just crossing the line–I wanted to blow that line the fuck up.

“I’m serious, Emmy. I don’t know when it happened, but I like you. I like you a lot more than I fucking should, and I know we shouldn’t do this because a million things could go wrong, but you feel so right.”

Being an adult with sensory issues was a weird thing. How could I tell someone that if I touched a piece of chicken while the music was too loud and I could hear somebody breathing, it would send me into a spiral?

It was hard to feel good enough when you never celebrated what you’d achieved.

“Sugar, you deserve to go out on your own terms. Just because you got dusted doesn’t mean you’re done.”

You know in the action movies, when the hero and heroine kiss right before the battle, and all of the sudden they’re ready to take on the aliens or the mutated monster or whatever? I understood that now.

“Some love stories burn hot and fast, but you two are more low and slow,” she said. “It’s a strong and steady kind of love.”

“I love you, Clementine Ryder,” he said earnestly. My breath caught in my throat. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Luke gave me one of my favorite smiles, the one that brought out the crinkles around his eyes, and I fell into his arms once again. Home sweet home.

I thought back to the first night I saw her at The Devil’s Boot. I didn’t know it then, but my girl was struggling. Back then, she was the shell of the woman who I now loved more than anything. All she’d needed was a little fire.