Page 20 of August’s Cowboy Braxton

"I was sixteen. It was my first big appearance at state finals. There was an older guy who kept showing up wherever I was. He'd leave flowers at my trailer. Wait by my truck. Ask questions about my schedule."

"What did Evie do?"

"She told me smiling through it was part of the job. That if I made a scene, sponsors would worry I couldn't handle pressure. That rodeo queens who fall apart in public don't get invited back."

"So you learned to hide it."

"I learned that admitting I'm scared makes people uncomfortable. Someone always steps in. Cancels things. Changes schedules. Decides I'm not capable. And suddenly the problem isn't the guy following me, it's me for noticing." She said it so matter-of-factly, like she was telling me something simple instead of sharing something that had shaped her entire life.

"So I smiled. And I kept smiling. Because that's what you do when you wear the crown."

I sat down across from her. "I knew you were scared the first time I saw you."

Her smile appeared in an instant.

I leaned forward and touched her mouth with my thumb. "Don't."

She froze.

"Don't smile at me like that. Don't perform. Not here. Not with me."

Her lips parted under my thumb, and her breathing changed. I should have pulled back. I didn't. She leaned in. I met her halfway.

The kiss was gentle but honest in a way that scared the hell out of me because I'd built my entire life around control and distance and never getting involved with clients. And Addison Blake tasted like everything I'd always told myself I couldn't have.

She made a sound low in her throat and her hands came up to my shoulders, gripping hard enough to hurt.

I pulled her closer.

She climbed into my lap without breaking contact and kissed me like she'd been holding back for days.

Maybe she had. Maybe I had too.

Her fingers tangled in my hair. Her body pressed against mine. Her mouth opened and I was gone—completely, dangerously gone.

I pulled away before I couldn't.

Her breathing was ragged. Her pupils blown wide. Her lips swollen. "Braxton⁠—"

"I don't get involved with clients."

"You just did."

"That was a mistake."

"Was it?" She stayed in my lap, her hands still on my shoulders, her green eyes holding mine without flinching.

"I don't do this, Addison."

"Do what? Kiss people? Feel things? Let someone in?"

"All of it."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't protect you if I'm distracted."

"I'm not asking you to stop protecting me. I'm asking you to stop pretending you don't want to kiss me again."