His nostrils flare. “You said no?”
“Of course I said no. I’ve been turning him down most of my life. He used to try to spy on us on the bleachers.” I give him a deadpan look. “He used to try to look up ourshorts.”
He snorts. “You realize those three stooges from the bar work out there?”
No, I didn’t think of that. Anxiety ripples through my stomach, but I pretend like it doesn’t bother me. “Stooges? How old are you?”
“Older than you. My dad used to love them.”Surprise flickers through his gaze before there’s a distance back in his eyes.
“Yeah?” I like this side of Durban. The one who acts like he wants me, and that he can’t help himself from showing me the real him. “I bet he was nicer than Chester Baldwin.”
A second ticks by. “He was. A lot nicer.”
“Did our dads know each other?” My fingers tingle to run through the soft strands of his hair. I grip the edge of the counter.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Dad would’ve been older than William. Dad met my mom when he was twenty. Had Iverson not long after.”
“Then you and Haven?”
He swallows and looks down, which happens to be at my lap. “There’s six years between Iverson and Haven. She left not long after Haven was born.”
“Oh, Durban. I’m so sorry.”
His gaze shoots up to me. “Don’t be. We were better off without her.”
“Did you live with her?”
“Yes. After Dad died, we had to. We would’ve been better off if they’d left us alone in the old house.”
I can’t resist touching him anymore. I cup his face. Whiskers tickle my palm. “Is that Haven’s place?”
“Yes. Our mother hated that she couldn’t take all this away from us. We haven’t talked to her since we moved out.” He clasps my wrist and turns into my touch, kissing my sensitive skin. Then he puts his mouth against the inside of my wrist.
Shivers trace through my body, and I widen my legs. He steps closer and places another kiss farther down the inside of my arm.
“Feeling more comfortable, Belle?” he whispers.
“Yes.” So many feelings cascade through my chest. Desire. Anticipation. Giddiness. Since when have I looked forward to a kiss like this?
He drops his head, ever so slowly. Weren’t we going to fool around? This feels deeper. But I’m also not panicking and drinking straight from the bottle like I was last time.
The faintest touch of his mustache hits my lips.
“I know we’re early, January, but the light’s on,” Stanford says way too close to the door.
“Motherfucker,” Durban growls and steps to the side. My knee brushes against a hard-as-steel bulge behind his zipper.
I blink, my head spinning while I try to remember what the hell I’m doing here. Horses. Riding. I’m not in the tack room to make out.
Stanford charges in and stops, looking left. Then right. He spots us and the corner of his lip curls into a sneer.
January stops behind him, putting her hands on his back. “What’s wrong— Oh. Campbell. Durban? Are you riding with us?”
I don’t like the way her eyes light up. “We’re going over the setup for the reception since there’s a chance of rain.” I haven’t looked at the forecast, and we’re way too far out for it to be accurate.
Stanford’s sneer hasn’t let up. “I would think you’ve covered that already.”
“We have,” Durban says. “I like to be thorough.” He ends with a heavy note of suggestion.
