I gasped and scrabbled to my feet, wiping the red sauce off with my fingers.

"Oh my God," I said, beginning to tremble. "I'm so sorry."

I looked around me for something to dab at the shirt, and something to wipe my fingers with. Settling on the straw for my hands, I couldn't help the panic starting to take over me as the reality of this expensive material now being ruined started to sink in.

"Sophie," he said. "It's fine. Stop panicking."

I glanced up at him, and then back at the shirt, and then back at him. "Have you not seen this? Do you know how hard grease is to get out of clothes?"

A soft chuckle sounded through the air as he stepped towards me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and locked our eye contact.

"I don't care," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's only a shirt."

"But—"

"No buts. It's a thing, Sophie, a material object. It's never as important as a person."

Tears welled up in my eyes. What was I supposed to say to that?

"Here," he said, grasping my hand. "Let's get you sorted out."

My whole body was on fire from having his hand wrapped around mine. As much as I probably didn't want to admit it, this guy affected me in ways I'd never yet experienced. Walking through the throng of people back to his truck, it was hard to ignore the admiring glances he received from every woman we walked past. Just the thought of him with one of them had the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head inside me. For just a minute, I allowed myself the fantasy of pretending we were a couple and he was taking me home for a night of untold passion.

We reached his truck, which unfortunately meant he broke our skin tingling connection. Rifling through the back seats in an old leather duffel bag, he pulled out a lemon coloured shirt and handed it to me.

"Hop in the back and swap them over."

My thoughts must have crossed over my face, as he started chuckling at me.

"Don't worry—the windows are tinted, and I won't peek."

I blushed and climbed in the back with his clean shirt. As I peeled his sister's shirt from my body, I found myself staring at his shadowed form outside the window. He was leaning back against the door, watching the area around us. I bit my lip, lost in the notion that here I was, topless, save for my lacy bra, and there he was—inches away from me. We were only separated by a piece of glass...

Shaking my head as if bringing myself back to reality, I pulled his clean shirt on, and opened the door. It was huge and hung off me as if I was a coat hanger—it absolutely drowned me.

He smiled when he saw me. "I think that suits you even better."

I glanced down at the length of it hanging around my mid-thigh area. "It's huge. I could make a parachute out of it."

Laughing, he held his hand out towards me and motioned towards the barn. "Fancy another drink?"

I nodded and placed my hand in his. My heart was working as hard as a jack hammer. My ribs were beginning to hurt from the incessant pounding against them. Before we entered the barn, I pulled us to a halt, so I could sort out the baggy shirt I was now wearing.

"What's up?" he said, still holding my hand.

I broke our connection and lifted the ends of the shirt up. "I need to sort this out."

Pulling the material tight around my waist, I took the remaining length and twisted it into a knot that rested just above my jeans. A hint of my belly was on show, but I could live with that.

Brady looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to give Randy a heart attack?"

I laughed, heat flooding my cheeks. On instinct, I started tugging at the sides, trying to inch it down over the miniscule part of flesh on show.

"You look fine, Sophie. I was joking."

He grasped my hand and led me back inside. He ordered us two beers and we indulged in small talk as we watched the people on the floor line dancing the night away. After an impressive show of what looked like perfect choreography, the band mellowed the tone to a slow, soothing melody.

Brady leaned into me, his hot breath skipping across my skin and sending goose bumps shooting all over me.

"Fancy a dance?" he said.

His body heat was radiating through me, sending me into a whole new spin. And now, now he wanted us to dance? Press our bodies close together in an intimate few moments of already bubbling tension, make me crave him even more? How was I supposed to rationalise anything when he was having this effect on me?

"Sure," I replied, my heart rate spiking even more.

He took the bottle from my hands and led me to the dancefloor. Couples were already snuggled up against one another— from old married folk to youngsters fresh in love. But where exactly did we fit in?

Picking out a spot in the middle, he slid his arms around my waist and pulled me in close. Trying not to focus too much on his hands being on my lower back, I dared myself to rest my arms around his neck. The spicy scent of his aftershave circled around me, drawing me further inside his embrace.

He took the last few inches between us, bumping our hips together. With our faces so close, a volcano of heat erupted inside me. The anticipation of what might happen next consumed me to such an extent that when his lips brushed against my ear, I gasped and shuddered inside his arms.

"You look stunning tonight," he said, his voice barely even a whisper.

I murmured a thank you back, praying he couldn't feel my body overheating. I glanced over his shoulder and found my attention captured by an elderly couple a few feet away. They were cuddled against one another as if it was their last dance. The woman's head was nestled against her husband's chest, and he rested his cheek against her grey hair. Both of their eyes were closed with contentment, warm smiles enveloping both of their wrinkled, happy faces.

A deep ache tore through me as I gazed upon them. That was what I wanted. I wanted a true love, a love that stands the test of time, and is still with me in my golden years. Who would be the man holding me so tenderly? Ben? Brady? Or someone I was yet to meet?

I squeezed my eyes shut as if it would rid my mind of the thoughts, but it didn't. An image of Ben floated before me. His bright green eyes were dancing with joy, and his familiar face creased into that lop-sided smile I'd come to adore over the years. And then came the memory. The one single vision which I'd burn my eyes out for if it would remove it from my mind.

That wasn't the Ben I knew. That wasn't my childhood sweetheart, the man who more or less owned every part of me. I didn't know anything but him. Could I really close the door on a decade of my life, our lives? What was this with Brady? Was it just a holiday romance attraction? Some deep desire for revenge? Or something more?

I suddenly understood what John meant about dragging Brady into my problems. I was such a confused mess, how could I expect him to step into this? Despite the profound longing I had for him to press his lips to my skin, ease the physical ache growing within me, I had to listen to my head, not my heart.

The hypnotising rhythm of the song blended into the start of another waltz, and I couldn't take any more. The constant carousel of thoughts whirring around and around my mind were driving me crazy, along with the desperate fight to not react to the gorgeous man with his arms wrapped around me.

I drew back, taking just a second to feel his muscled shoulders beneath my fingertips. Like butter on hot toast, I liquefied into nothing. I couldn't do this. I had to go.

"I need some air," I said, before all but running for the door.

As I left the safety of his hold, I suddenly felt very bare, naked almost. My body was screaming for his contact the second he released me.

I headed for the safety of the corral, needing the sturdy fence to help support me. The comforting scent of horses and leather calmed me as I leaned against the top rail. I rested my arms on top and flopped my head down on them, closing my eyes. Why was nothing simple in life? Why did everything have to be such a life changing decision?

Then it hit me.

Ben had literally changed our lives the moment he even considered my sister in that way. He had obviously thrown all caution to the wind and not given another care, yet here I was, in a quandary because I'd done...nothing?

Even though we were stuck in a limbo, neither together nor apart, he still had this hold over me, yet I clearly had no hold over him. He claimed he thought of me, felt guilty and all the rest of it, but which is worse? Thinking of me and doing it anyway, or just doing it without a second thought?

I sighed and glanced up into the clear night sky. Watching the stars glowing against their contrasting background, I found myself a little lost, but also a little more found. This was my life. It was mine to do with as I wished, to share in whatever way I deemed fit, with whoever I thought worthy.

Hearing footsteps crossing the dirt, I turned to see Brady striding towards me. My heart burst into a new life, pumping adrenaline through me at a rate of knots. I admitted to myself then that I wanted him. I wanted Brady Lancaster. And I wanted him to want me.

"Brady, I'm sorry. I just—"

I don't think he heard my words. His purposeful march never faltered once. Those alluring dark eyes of his locked onto me, pulling me back into his world. He cupped my face, and melted his soft lips to mine.