Exclusive Excerpt: A Risk Worth Taking by Heather Hildenbrand

Chapter Twelve

Twilight had fallen over the edges of the treetops. Cicadas sang. The breeze picked up, lifting my hair off the back of my neck and making the mid-June evening heat bearable as I walked between the greenhouses. It should’ve been relaxing, but instead my guts felt filled with dancing elephants. Driving go-carts. Singing White Snake.

And this was calm.

For the past week, I’d almost pulled my hair out avoiding Ford and resisting the little voice in my head that whispered any and everything that rationalized a fling. I’d managed to block it out at first. But then, he’d shown up for dinner a few days ago all sweaty and dirty from some overturned planter boxes he’d hauled out front for Mazie, and all I could think about was what his skin would look like in the stream of the shower. My shower. With low lighting. And the ripple of my fingers over those six-pack abs. Even the angle of his damned elbow as he forked food into his mouth turned me on.

In no time, that little voice in my head started to make sense. I began to argue with it to make it shut up. I’d moved home to figure myself out: what I wanted out of life, out of relationships, what I wasn’t willing to settle for, and most importantly, to figure out if passion was worth it. Less than a month in and I was ready to throw all of that to the devil for sex. Granted, if the sex was anything like that kiss, it might be worth it—

But no, I’d told myself all week, I wasn’t going there.

And then I remembered Casey’s challenge at our race last weekend. If I could man up and cross this off my list—one date with Ford should be enough “evidence”—Casey would let me have a do-over on that rope swing. I told myself that was the reason I was currently on my way to Ford’s greenhouse on a Friday afternoon at quittin’ time. I was finishing that damned list and then shoving it down Casey’s throat. So why were the contents of my stomach roiling and shifting and threatening to part like the Red Sea?

This is stupid, I decided as I marched closer to Ford’s greenhouse. I was grown. An adult, making an adult decision to experience the freedom of a good lay. God, I sounded like a man. Devoid of emotion.

No, that wasn’t right. Ford O’Neal made me feel plenty. It just didn’t fit into any of the boxes I’d created in my mind when it came to the opposite sex. I shook my head, disgusted at myself. Boxes. Logic. Opposite sex. I sounded like a complete nerd. Something like this was better accomplished without overthinking—or any thinking at all.

I paused outside the door and took a deep breath. Don’t think. Just act. Take a risk. Life’s more fun when it’s spontaneous, Ford had said. I was about to find out.

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