Semua Bab Reclaiming Aria : Bab 81 - Bab 89

Aria – POV The air smells like cinnamon rolls, saddle leather, and fresh-cut hay. It’s barely 8 a.m. but the farmers market is already alive—stalls popping with color, people calling out greetings, toddlers tugging on parents’ hands while someone in the distance strums an out-of-tune guitar. It’s loud, chaotic, and perfect. Kade’s fingers are wrapped around mine, thumb brushing the back of my hand as we weave through the gravel paths between booths. His hat’s low over his brow, boots dusted from this morning’s chores, and that damn faded tee clings to his arms in a way that should be illegal. I’m in one of his flannels again—sleeves rolled up, the hem hitting just below my shorts—and I can feel the stares. We’re passing the Calloway Ranch stall, where two of the ranch hands are manning the table—burlap sacks of fertilizer stacked in neat rows, bundles of hay, raw wool, fence nails, and mason jars full of beeswax saddle balm. One of the boys holds up a jug of fresh milk, grin

Kades POV Sun’s high, heat thick and humming as I step out across the yard. Boots crunch gravel. Shirt still clings faintly to the sweat cooling on my back. My hair’s damp, curls stubborn at the edges—Aria’s fault. All of it. She’d kissed me on the porch, lips swollen, grinning like an angel in tight blue jeans and a soft white shirt. “Get to work, boss man,” she’d teased, handing me my coffee like I hadn’t just made her come twice and ruined my sheets. Then she’d headed off to the library like a damn angel. And me? I’m walking into the stables looking like I barely survived heaven. “Look what the cat dragged in!” Benny shouts from inside, leaning over a stack of feed bags with a shit-eating grin. “Afternoon, lover boy,” Tommy hollers from the loft above. I roll my eyes, lips twitching. “Y’all don’t got better things to do?” “Not when you stroll in looking like that,” Benny whistles, giving me the once-over. “That’s the strut of a man who didn’t even bother pretending

Aria – POV We’re still breathless from laughter when my phone buzzes. Sloane’s mid-rant about the tragedy of low-rise jeans making a comeback, but I’ve already glanced down at the screen—and I freeze. Kade [Thinking about how you tasted this morning.] [Thinking about how I didn’t get to finish.] [Thinking about bending you over the next available surface.] [You still sore, baby? Or do I need to remind you how good it gets?] Heat floods my spine like molten honey. My thighs clench. And I may or may not make a noise that sounds like I choked on my own soul. Sloane smirks. “Tell me he didn’t just send a dick pic.” “No,” I squeak. “Worse.” She grabs the phone, reads, and whistles low. “Well. Someone’s feral.” I slide it back into my bag with trembling fingers. “We need a task. A mission. A distraction before I end up dragging him into the back seat of his truck in broad daylight.” Sloane grins wide. “Perfect. Let’s find you a place.” I blink. “Today?” “There

Sloane – POVThe sun’s warm but not punishing, the gravel crunching under my heels as I lean against the hood of Henry’s car, arms crossed, trying real hard not to keep looking at him.Spoiler: I’m failing.Henry Nichols. Used to be all knobby elbows and oversized glasses. Ran track like a deer on Red Bull and stammered every time I looked at him.This? This is not that boy.This Henry is tall. Calm. Lean in a deliberate kind of way. Built like he doesn’t advertise it—strength tucked beneath his fitted button-up and easy smile. He smells like cedar and clean soap, and I hate how aware I am of that.“Well,” I say, trying to keep the smirk out of my voice as I watch Aria and Kade disappear behind the screen door like they’re about to turn that old house into a fuckin’ crime scene, “you didn’t tell me this listing came with live-action porn.”Henry chuckles low in his throat. “I figured the view would sell itself.”“Mmm. You mean them or the kitchen?”“Depends,” he shoots back smoothly.