The Bluff: A Sweet Small-Town Romantic Comedy (Graham Brothers Sweet Rom Com Series Book 2)

“Winchester Boyd, you’re my everything. My fire, my tender warrior, my brilliant partner.”

“Aw, I love it when you go all mushy on me.”

“I’m not mushy,” I say, putting the deep growl in my voice I know she loves. “Okay. Only a little. Only for you.”

You aren’t allowed to apologize for loving me so well.”

I swallow. “Who said anything about love?”

James leans closer, his brown eyes darkening as his pupils dilate. “I did. I am. I love you, Winchester. Maybe you’re not ready to say it in words because this is fast, but I feel it.” James removes his hand from the wall and taps his chest, right over his heart. “I feel your love in all the things you’ve done for me.”

James drops his gaze to my lips. “Especially that. I want to wake up every morning and kiss that smart mouth of yours. And I want to go to sleep the same way.”

My heart has decided to stop doing its job and is now beating erratically, making me feel short of breath. “What about the middle of the day?”

James’s nostrils flare, and he puts one hand on the garage beside my head, caging me in. “All. Day. Long.” His gaze trails from my eyes to my lips and right back up. “I want this, Winnie. This back-and-forth. This … thing we have. It’s life to me. It’s everything.

I want to go back to my solitary life—living alone, brewing small batches to distribute on a small scale. Alone.

Only … Winnie has ruined alone for me. Because I’ve seen what life is like when I’m not alone. I’ve gotten a taste of being with Winnie, and already, her absence feels like a festering wound.

Gross analogy, but I said what I said.

“You’re a big softy under all these layers of grump, James Graham,” she says.

“False. I am not a softy.”

I’m really not. That said, I would do just about anything Jo asked. I’m beginning to worry the same might be true of Winnie.

I almost fall over as James pauses in front of me. With eyes bright and one corner of his mouth kicked up, he cups my cheeks and places a tender, lingering kiss on my lips. When he pulls back, that smirk is firmly in place again.

Meanwhile, I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

James drops his heavy hands to my shoulders and glances over at Chevy. “This is happening,” he says. Firm. No question.

I’ve moved firmly into the land of Who Cares If It’s a Good Idea. Maybe it’s the darkness or Winnie’s vulnerability activating my protective side, but whatever hesitations and objections I’ve had are gone.

Winnie is mine.

Mine to protect. Mine to care for. Mine to …

I swallow hard again, my mind dizzy in reaction to the word I wanted to use there. Love. Mine to love.

There are educational programs in schools across the country warning about the dangers of drugs. But there should absolutely be a similar program about the dangers of men’s body products. Aftershave, bodywash, cologne—all of them need warning labels. Maybe prescriptions or age restrictions.

May cause infatuation, wild bouts of lust, obsession, or addiction. Please use responsibly.

But I don’t want to see a photo of James with another woman. Let’s not discuss WHY the idea makes me stabby, because I’m pretending it doesn’t.

I want to eat my pie, and I want to go home. I’ve had enough people for one day. For several days. Maybe for a week.