A Photo Finish (Gold Rush Ranch, #2)

by Elsie Silver

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them. As much as it makes me roll my eyes to admit it, they’re kind of sweet together. And Billie is good for my little brother. But the two of them are just so much fucking sunshine and rainbows that you almost need sunglasses to be in their presence. And ear plugs. The talking never stops.

This time, I groan and look up at the ceiling. I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. Working in the spare office down the hall will be fine. “You’re right. That’s not it . . . Oh! I know . . . ” From the corner of my eye I can see him lean forward on his elbows and steeple his hands in front of his mouth. “You missed Violet.” Suddenly, the sound of my heart beats loud, like an overbearing drum pounding in my ears. It thumps through my entire body. Why the fuck would he guess that?

“Have you run into the girl yet?” “What girl?” I’m intentionally playing stupid. She laughs again. “The one you can’t stop talking about.”

The inky hair, the gray eyes, the square shoulders, the sad tilt to his mouth. He crosses his arms under my gaze, and I roll my lips together at the sight. Just the way he moves, so sure and so calculated, drives me to distraction. There’s so much power coiled in every inch of his body. A soldier’s body.

“I’m not everyone,” he says plainly. I hiss as I suck air in, trying not to sound like I’m gasping for it. Trying not to give away the fact that he’s just winded me with his words. Blood rushes in my ears and pools in my cheeks—like it always does. You look so fucking pretty in pink. He’d told me that once, and now it takes every ounce of my strength not to let my mind and body wander back to that day. “What do you want, Cole?”

It’s why I moved on. It’s why I disappeared without a word. It’s why this awkwardness between us now is on him, not me. My head knows exactly what choices to make where Cole Harding is concerned. But my heart? It’s not so sure.

“Like some sort of veteran pen pal thing?”

“Hey! It’s Butterface!” I growl as I reach into the truck. “Violet. Shut up.” She throws her head back and bursts out laughing again.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asks quietly from where she’s sprawled, her voice not so giddy anymore. “I’m not,” I grumble, jumping back into action, not wanting to talk. I pull a pillow from the headboard and prop it under her braced knee.

Golddigger85: I’m looking for someone I can pay to send me exclusive photos (like the one you posted) or do live videos with. I’ll send you $2,000 USD every two weeks and we’ll talk 2-3 times a week for 20-30 minutes. I’ll give you directions, and you follow them, within reason, of course. But I stay completely anonymous. Take your time to think about it. No pressure. Your photo is lovely.

That night she told me to take over, to tell her what to do, it had been hot. So fucking hot. Hotter than any other time I’d done it, probably because we’d gotten to know each other. Her trust meant something to me in that moment. I was feeling things for Violet that I couldn’t put my finger on. But

“Why’d you pick . . . your name?” I ask, not wanting to say the name out loud. She flushes and looks away at the stores as we roll past them. “Purple is just kind of my color.” I only look at her for a moment. It’s all I can stand before blood rushes between my legs. But as I turn my eyes back to the road, my mind fixates on that blush. The memory of the way she blushed for me. More like pretty in pink. My god. I need to get the hell out of this truck.

Her body still haunts me. “Do I need to?” She nods. I groan inwardly, while outwardly smiling in a way I’m sure looks more like a wild dog showing its teeth, as I turn back to the woman at the table. “Good morning,” I say clearly before turning back to Violet, whose eyes are dancing with amusement. She rolls her lips together like she’s holding back a laugh before she hits me with a full, blinding smile. A genuine smile. “Was that really so bad?” All I can think is that I can’t remember the last time someone looked at me like that.

Pretty_in_Purple: Even a butterface looks good in a hat. Golddigger85: You saying I look good?

I wince. Sounds like my brother when he came back from Afghanistan.

“Violet.” “Yes?” I bat my eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. “Calling me old and grumpy is your plan to make me happy?” Okay, jokes really fall flat around here. “Come on! I want a drink and to be around some other humans rather than locked up on the ranch. I’m feeling a bit squirrelly. If you don’t come, I’ll go on my own.” “Yeah? You going to drive with a big walking cast on your right foot?” “No.” I smile slyly. “I’m going to walk.” Cole groans and looks up at the sky like he’s hoping some aliens will come whizzing by and beam him up out of this conversation. If they needed a magnificent male specimen, I could see why they’d choose him. “Give me five minutes.” “For what?” I quirk my head. “To change into something appropriate.” I bark out a laugh. “Cole, have you been to Neighbor’s Pub before?” “No,” he says with a slight wrinkle in his nose.

My brow wrinkles as I hear him confirm what Billie and Mira guessed. “I thought you hated horses?” “I don’t hate horses.” Pippy snorts and bats her eyelashes at him. Another one down, apparently. “Okay. You said you don’t like horses.” “Yup.” He grunts as he turns his back on me and crouches down to line up two boards. “But I like you.” And then he silently gets to work while I stand there watching him. Dumbstruck.

My response sounds resolute. But I’m feeling anything but. I’m confused. Tempted. Horny. Instead of giving in, I pull my favorite toy out of my bedside table and pretend I said yes.

But a dangerous voice takes over my train of thought from behind me. “Nobody enjoys fucking you, Patrick. Now move your arm before I remove it completely.” I turn my head to look over my shoulder and find Cole standing at the top of the stairs like some sort of dark, avenging angel. He often looks grumpy, but right now, he looks downright deadly. All those years in the military have scored every hard line in the body that stands over us. He looks relaxed. Too relaxed. Like this is an easy default mode for him. And Patrick, idiot that he is, doesn’t pick up on the danger at all. He laughs. “Harding Senior. Nice to see ya, buddy.”

“Touch her, and I’ll kill you.” Cole’s voice is downright arctic.

Golddigger85: Does he know about me? Pretty_in_Purple: I don’t know. Does he?

That’s right. It’s been one week since Cole Harding called me his friend and kissed me on the cheek, and I’m a bumbling mess around the man. One week since I crawled into his bed and held his hand in mine like I had a right to. Every touch, every look, every gentle word, it’s like a slow-motion reel that won’t stop playing through my mind. I’m so far gone, it’s not even funny.

“Violet.” “Yeah?” My voice is weak, breathy. Cole leans closer, inhaling deeply, as his mouth hovers near my throat. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.” My heart stops. Lurches. Freezes. I look up into his eyes, so full of uncertainty and longing. So tortured. So pained. I search his face. Looking for some clue as to what he really wants me to do here. A hint, a tell, something. But that military training is shining through, so I opt for the truth. “I’m not a very good liar.”

“Tell me,” he whispers into my ear. “Don’t stop,” is my pleading reply. His teeth trail across the line of my jaw, his lips hovering close to mine. So, so close. I can’t tear my eyes from them. I want to watch this all and commit it to memory. “What are you doing to me?” I can feel his breath on my lips, smell the mint on his breath. I want to taste it too.

“Okay,” I huff out. “Why?” “Because I don’t do this.” I’m breathing like I just ran a hundred-meter dash. “Do what?” “Physical contact. Relationships. Any of it.” My eyebrows knit together. “Like . . . at all? Ever?” “Not for . . . a long time. Years.” He trails off as he stands, and the enormity of his confession hits me like a wrecking ball. Years? “Not since . . .” He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. I already know he means since Hilary. My throat burns with jealousy. Sad, pathetic jealousy. Such a wasteful and pointless emotion. “I’m sorry,” he adds as he turns to walk away stiffly toward the kitchen. I stay here on the mat, trying to get my bearings and figure out what the hell just happened. He didn’t seem hung up enough on Hilary to be pining for her to this extent. In fact, he didn’t seem to like her at all. But . . . years? What the hell am I missing?

“Do it,” I whisper, taunting him. “Please,” I add, begging him. And this time he doesn’t deny me. “Fuck it,” he rasps right as his lips descend onto mine. Hard and fast, strong and relentless—just like him.

Which is probably why I don’t miss his quiet whisper several minutes later. “What I was going to say is that this is perfect.”

But right now, I ache to go back. A hug from my dad, a noogie from Rhett, an easy smile from Beau, and some deep, poetic advice from Cade. Good men, all four of them.

He turns, jaw popping and veins in his arms pulsing with tension, all highlighted by shadow with only a floor lamp shedding dim light in the corner. His hands fist and then let go as he raises his voice right back, shouting, “What do you want me to tell you? I never open up to anyone. You think everything between us just started and finished with a photo for me? Like it was easy for me to lose you? To not know if you were okay? To miss you so much it physically hurt? You broke me!”

Her voice is small, and her cheeks are pink. “What if I want you to lose it?” It’s hard to catch my breath when she talks like that. So effortlessly sexy. So innocent. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” “Don’t I?” she muses with a quirked head. “It’s like being small and quiet gives people the impression I’m a prude.” She nibbles on her lip, eyes raking down over my body like I’m her favorite snack. “Would it shock you to know I’ve closed my eyes and imagined being fucked by you for two whole years? You’re my go-to fantasy, Cole.” “Violet.” She’s not dissuaded. Another step forward. “With my hands. With my toy. With other m—” “Violet,” I bite out. “I don’t want to hear about that.” “Jealous?”

I saw her truck there out of the corner of my eye, and it seemed like the simplest solution. We are an us, right?” When she says us, she peeks up at me from under thick lashes, shyly. I blink at her, scanning her face for some sign that she might be joking. Because in what universe does this woman want me to be an us with her. I literally shake my head and count my lucky fucking stars. And then I kiss her hard, hold her to me tight, and show her how badly I want to be an us. “We are definitely an us.”

What I see in you? So much strength. So much love. But I can’t make you embrace it. That’s on you. I don’t believe for one second that you don’t want us. But you’re stuck, Cole. You can’t see past one moment of your life. One terrible moment. And you’re letting it define your entire existence.”

“If you’re asking if Violet told me, the answer is no. But I watch people and horses for a living. I think I see things that other people don’t. Body language. Ticks. Clues. Is a horse scared? Uncomfortable? Where can I diagnose a problem? I’m constantly assessing. And you . . . you hide it well. But your gait is just a little off. You always wear long pants and high socks, no matter the temperature. You massage your leg without even noticing. I put it together a while ago.” “And you just haven’t said anything?”

Win or lose. She’s always smiling out there. Smiling right at me. Lighting me up. Because she’s my fucking sunshine.