He eyed her. She wasn’t sloppy drunk. He’d seen her that way before and knew what that looked like. She got overly handsy and silly. But he also wasn’t going to risk letting her get behind the wheel, especially this late at night. “I’ll drop you off at your house and take your car to my place. I can swing by and get you in the morning,” he said. “I’d say I’d take an Uber back tonight, but I’m thinking pickings might be slim in Long Acre.”

She lolled her head toward him with a sardonic look. “You’d have better luck calling for a horse and buggy.” She pressed a button on the dash. “Directions to home, please.”

The GPS pulled up the location, and Ash headed toward Lake Wilder. Kincaid closed her eyes, giving him the chance to look at her without her noticing. Even a little tipsy and undone from the night out, she still looked beautiful in a way that only she could. She was more than pretty. Lots of women were pretty. But add that inner spark that seemed to light every part of her, and she became like a tractor beam, pulling people in without effort. That was what made her a straight-up knockout. She never tried to be anyone but herself, and that take-it-or-leave-it bravado never failed to make him want to take, take, take.

He’d let his guard slip at the bar. He’d been so goddamned angry when that dumb cowboy had insulted her, and he’d seen red when the guy had dared raise his hand to her. Ash hadn’t felt that kind of primal rage in a long damn time. Rage and something else he didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t deny—jealousy. The emotion had burned bright and hot that some idiot like the cowboy had been with Kincaid.

He didn’t want to feel that. He had no right to feel anything about who she did or didn’t sleep with. But he’d felt it nonetheless. He’d also wanted to question her about the choice—another thing that was none of his business—since he couldn’t help wondering why someone like Kincaid would even give a guy like that a second of her time. Was it because he had money? She had her own now, so Ash didn’t see how that could be a factor.

Ash flexed his hand, his knuckles stiff from the punch, and turned onto a darkened road. Kincaid dozed as he made his way through Long Acre and into Wilder. The houses became more upscale rustic and spaced out. The black lake came into view, the moonlight shimmering off the surface. This was prime property in this part of the world. Open space. Gorgeous views. Privacy. In high school, everyone had wanted invites to the parties hosted at the lake. Well, everyone except him. Others saw the tangle of trees as a perfect place to sneak off and hook up, the lake a perfect place to skinny-dip. His writer mind had always thought the area looked like the perfect setting for a horror movie. A guy in a hockey mask would fit right in. No way was he getting naked out there. Not that he would’ve had anyone back then to get naked with.