The Bluff (Love Stories in Sheet Cake, Texas, #2)

by Emma St. Clair

When he walks outside, Winnie and I are left simmering in an electric tension. We stare for a few long seconds, and it feels dangerous to hold her gaze for this long. She must feel the same way, because she looks away as she steps forward, holding out my gloves. Call me selfish, call me a total Neanderthal, but I want those blue eyes on ME. I grab the gloves but take Winnie’s hand too. She jolts a little, then blinks up at me. Her confusion is evident, and well-warranted. I’ve been careful not to touch her today, even casually, because the attraction I feel without touching Winnie is bad enough. And yet … I want her close like this. I want her closer. It’s a terrible one, but before I can convince my thumb of that, it traces a line up the inside of her wrist. Winnie’s lips part, and she releases a soft exhale. Something I don’t want to name hangs between us, or maybe it passes between us like a signal or current. For the moment, my headache is gone, replaced by a heady and heavy sense of want. It’s deeper than just a physical connection, though it’s absolutely that too. I feel like some invisible thread has wound its way through me, tethering us together.