A Photo Finish (Gold Rush Ranch, #2)

by Elsie Silver

Murderous and delicious.

I even crack a small smile when I see the way Billie has turned down the covers and left a chocolate on my pillow. She is truly ridiculous.

It’s been way too long, you old perv. You’re getting hard just imagining touching a woman’s lips. The ones on her face, no less.

“Is someone lying in your back seat?” I ask. She glances over her shoulder. “Oh. Yeah.” My eyes shift back to hers. “I don’t like you enough to help you bury a body.”

Nevermind the fact that I’ve been pining for her—a girl I’ve basically never met—for the last couple years. Nothing good can come from this kind of forced proximity.

the days I spent messaging with her were some of my brightest in recent memory.

Life courses through her so vividly and almost tangibly—like I could reach out and touch it, bottle it up and drink it, or just keep it. Possess it, knowing I have the option to consume it whenever I want. Money can’t buy this brand of vitality. This is bone deep—soul deep. She shines like the sun, golden and bright.

I live in the shadows, and she’s like this ray of light that brightens my day. I’m so fucking greedy.

“You . . . you just laughed. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.” My head quirks as I lean in a bit. “I laugh.” Violet crosses her arms and leans closer across the small table. “Did it hurt?”

I stare back at her, trying to look unimpressed, even though her amusement is contagious. Even though she’s so fucking beautiful that it hurts.

“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.

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

I should tell her she’s so much more. The thing that got me out of bed most mornings. My bright spot. My sunshine.

Cole devours me like a man starved—like an expert. His lips dust kisses over each collar bone as the tips of his teeth scrape against my skin, followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue. “Tell me to stop.” His voice vibrates across my skin, spraying goosebumps out in its wake.

“Hi, Butterface.” A small smile touches her mouth, and her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. I love that. She’s genuine. She’s brave. She’s fucking beautiful. The kind of beauty that makes you stop and stare. The kind of beauty you want to study. I don’t draw, but suddenly I’m overcome by the need to sketch her face.

“Yeah, but I laugh with you more than I’ve laughed in years.”

A sigh that leads him to pulling up his pant leg roughly, angrily, to show me the black prosthetic hidden beneath his pants. A sock covers his knee and disappears down into the plastic leg.

But not like this—this is unnerving. This is . . . He looks downright edible like this. All dark hair and glowing eyes.

“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.”

The one thing I actually looked forward to in a monotonous, lonely fucking day. Because she was right all those months ago. I am lonely. Actually, I don’t even know if lonely really covers it. I’m numb. By choice.

My misery grows with every passing day that she doesn’t respond. I feel pathetic continuing to message her. But I can’t stop. Talking to Pretty_in_Purple has become part of who I am, a thread leading me back to the man I want to be. A thread I decide I will not let go of. I’ll keep going even if she’s not here to partake.

Kissing Violet last night was fucking everything. It really was perfect.

In the middle of a forest, in a shitty little shelter, I’m the most relaxed I’ve been in years. All because Violet is here in my arms.

I admired that about her. Envied it. When life didn’t go my way, I retreated, but Violet? She kept on trudging. With a smile. Eternal sunshine.

Tears spring up in my eyes just reading them all. Each one like a pin in my heart. The most aloof, closed-off man in the world turned my heart into a fucking pin cushion with his words, and I don’t even know how to tell him. I am well and truly speechless.

I know you don’t need me. But I want to be there for you. Let me care for you in the only ways that I can.”

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!”

“You’re not broken. You’re perfect. And I’m a shitty fucking patchwork quilt. I’ve spent years picking up the tattered pieces of myself, every life event, every heartbreak, and slowly stitched it all back together. But I’m not good at sewing, Violet.”

“Evening the playing field. You need to know what this is between us? It’s fucking everything.”

I feel so fucking vulnerable. So far out of my element. She knows about me, about everything—that I’m messy—and she’s not running.

If Hilary was the poison, Violet is the antidote.

Because if I’ve learned anything in the last month, it’s that Cole Harding is a good man. Broken, and sensitive, and so fucking good.

“You stuck around when you knew nothing about me. Like you enjoyed my company or something—and no one enjoys my company. Not anymore. But you were like a moth to flame that knew it would burn them, eventually. Beautiful and innocent. And

strong. And I was so fucking scared of letting you get too close, of opening up. But you never forced my hand. You just quietly made me need you . . . ” He scrubs at his stubble with one hand. “And then you left, and I told myself I was right all along—that everyone leaves me. Until the universe laughed in my face and shoved you right back into my life.”

It’s like you’ve seen all my darkest corners and don’t give a shit about them. You’re not scared. You don’t look at me like I’m tragic. You look at me like we’re inevitable.”

Even this morning, I feel like I should pinch myself. A woman like Violet wants me. And I can’t wrap my head around it.

I realize she might be everything. The light at the end of the dark tunnel. The sunshine my dark existence so desperately needs. I can’t stop myself from brushing my lips across her temple. She feels so precious wrapped up in my arms right now.

All I want to do is see Violet. I realize in this moment how badly I need her—want her. I want to run my hands all over her body. I need to feel her. To know she’s okay.

When I see Cole marching out of the barn, I can’t help but smile. When I get close enough to him, I look away. He’s so beautiful it hurts.

That I’m here for him. Just the way he is.

I’m definitely in love with Violet Eaton.

She’s practically glowing in the golden morning light. She looks like an angel—my angel.

We are an us, right?”

“We are definitely an us.”

But I can’t focus on that right now. My mind is reeling with two thoughts: I need to be alone.

I can’t be with someone who does this for a living.

“You and me. Us. I can’t do it.”

I wish you could see it in yourself. 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.”