I don’t want him stressed every time I’m in the room.
“He’s addicted, that kid. Can’t even count the days he’s woken up the whole house.” He shakes his head affectionately as he comes back into the kitchen. “But I guess it’s a good thing. Music builds discipline and it keeps him out of trouble.”
“Yeah. I played the oboe and I was pretty awful,” I confess, wincing. “I’d like to think it helped me with school, though. Chemistry was a breeze after squeaking my way through an hour of sheet music with the band teacher turning red.”
“Margot Blackthorn, defeated by a damn reed? I can’t see it.” He chuckles.
“Be glad!” I say back brightly.
We fall into this companionable silence, wrapping up breakfast and brewing coffee before the kids come tearing downstairs.
A girl could get very used to this, and I can’t let that happen.
“We should head into town later to follow up on the stalker,” he says while he’s plating the food.
My stomach drops.
Stalker. Right-o.
Here in the happy golden morning with delicious food waiting, nothing feels scary. But I can’t shake that feelingof being watched, beingviolated, and how I may never feel comfortable here again come nightfall.
“You’re right,” I whisper, grabbing a plate to carry to the table. “The sooner we get this done, the better.”
10
LOOK HOMEWARD (KANE)
If there’s a cardinal rule I’ve learned after nearly a decade of being a dad, it’s when your kid has a shot at a pony ride, you’d be a fool to stand in their way.
Which is why I’m following in their tracks as we ride down Sully Bay’s red cobblestone streets, gently curling up and down small hills.
Horseback riding’s a great way to see more of the town. The kids were too excited to say no when they saw the place offering rides.
Margot was a little more hesitant with the horses, especially when the attendant said we’d have to share one.
Better that than having her ride alone.
She’s not a horse girl.
She’s a city girl to the core who never developed a taste for pricey equestrian outings, and she’s only ridden a few times in her life.
“Mostly on lead rein,” she confessed, half-embarrassed, as the attendant led the horse over to us.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “I can handle a horse. Used to go riding on my uncle’s farm in Wyoming back in the day.”
Her eyes sparkled.
I did my damnedest not to think about the fact that she’d be sitting right in front of me.
With her delectable ass now lodged against my cock, it’s a lot harder not to remember that with every movement.
“Oh my God! I forgot this can be so warm.” She laughs, her back brushing my chest and her fingers half an inch from mine on the reins.
The horse or me?
“What did you expect, duchess?”
“Don’t know. Like I said, it’s been a while.” She leans forward, wedging her ass even more firmly against me, patting his neck. “But you’re a good boy, aren’t you, Thorin?”
