“… you’re thinking positively, which tells me you’re going to be okay. Sam is?—”
I interrupt Rosie as soon as I realize he’s within hearing distance now.
“Sam is here now, yes. He just walked up. Say hi,” I rush out, grabbing the phone and holding it up in the air, my thumb hovering over the red button that will end the call in an emergency.
“Hi, Sam,” Rosie says, a smile in her voice.
“Hey, Rosie,” he replies, looking out over the backyard.
The thin fabric of his shirt drapes over his shoulder muscles beautifully. I squeeze my thighs together and make a mental note to check the app that’s documenting my cycle. I must be ovulating this week.
“I’ve got to strap the twins into their swing set. But you two have a great day. And good luck with the dating app, Dolly.You should add a bikini picture from the lake weekend to your profile!”
With that, she ends our call. I lick my lips, bringing the coffee mug to my mouth as the awkward silence envelops us. Sam’s gaze moves over me, revealing nothing.
“How do you like your coffee?” he finally says.
“Whatever this is, it’s amazing. I didn’t know you were such a java connoisseur.”
He’s fiddling with the rope, looping and unlooping it in different patterns. Sam has always been an exceptional roper. He competed in rodeos when he was younger. When they work cattle at Redford Ranch, if there’s ever a calf that’s trying to escape, Sam is always the one who rides after them and effectively loops their hind legs on the first try.
I try not to let my mind wander down into the gutter as I study his fingers and the way they skillfully tie and untie the knots. My nipples are already poking through my pajama shirt. I’m starting to regret the no-bra decision.
“I meant, do you like it brewed stronger or weaker?”
“Oh, um, the way you made it today is perfect.”
He nods. I look down at my phone screen and answer a few more questions, expecting him to go inside or back out to the barn. After a few minutes, I look up and see that he’s still standing there, fidgeting with the rope.
He must sense my eyes on him because his gaze rises to mine. He clears his throat. “So, I think we should discuss what’s going to happen during your time here.”
I chew my bottom lip, studying him.
His eyes focus on the movement before dipping over me briefly. He looks up at the ceiling of the porch. “I think we should set a few boundaries. Establish some ground rules.”
I quirk an eyebrow. It’s like he’s trying to fulfill all my fantasies.
Childhood crush? Check.
Dirty, sweaty cowboy? Check.
Rules made to break? Check.
Getting tied up?In my dreams.
I wiggle on the rocking chair, trying to ignore the arousal pooling in my lower belly.
Over it, over it, over it. I’m moving on. I’m unaffected.
The self-gaslighting attempt is a continual chant in my head as I peel my eyes away from his hands on the rope.
“Are you going to give me a chore list?” I catch a stray drip of coffee on the rim of my mug with my tongue.
Sam shifts his boots. “I have ranch hands in and out all day. I can’t have you walking out to the fields or the barn, dressed like … that.”
I look down at myself. My nipples are very much still poking through the thin fabric of my pajamas. It has little rainbows and four-leaf clovers on them. The shorts are barely more than underwear, and a sliver of my stomach is out. Overall, it’s much more modest than a swimsuit.
“Anything else?” I ask, cheeks heating when I realize he’s noticing my body.
