Maisey blinks at her daughter. “Oh, baby, no. Shh. No, sweetie, I wouldn’t give your father the satisfaction.”
I don’t realize my own heart is in my throat until that exact moment, when I realize Maisey Spencer is 100 percent okay, and 100 percent on my shit list now.
I don’t know if I should yell at her for doing all this by herself, or if I should hug her and tell her I’m glad she’s okay and ask if she needs help cleaning up.
The ideas a filthy, dirty Maisey Spencer is giving me ...
I settle for scowling at her.
It’s the safest option.
“I thought youdied,” June repeats, this time through a sob.
“Oh, baby.” Maisey reaches for her.
June rears back. “You moved me here and I hate it and then you missed theonlygame I’ve gotten to play in and you didn’t answer my calls and I thought a bear ate you and I’d be all alone because I know Dad doesn’t want me, and now you’re allOh, no, this is fine, and it isnot fine, andstop looking at me. Just stop looking at me.”
She turns around, stares in horror at me and Opal like she forgot we were here, and then takes off at another dead run, this time straight to the house.
Maisey gets three steps before Opal intercepts her.
“Sweetie,” Opal says, reaching out like she wants to pat Maisey on the shoulder but also doesn’t want to get dirty, “why don’t you go find a garden hose? I have a little experience with teenagers who hate you because you’ve made them live here. I’ve got her.”
I don’t call Opal on the lie.
I loved living here with her, even if I never found where I fit in at school and avoided coming back out of fear that she’d taken me in out of obligation.
But the reassurance from my aunt has Maisey’s entire body deflating.
She’s like an empty sack formerly known as a human, coated in mud and the weight of the world.
“Thank you.” The only thing worse than her dull voice is the shine starting in her eyes.
Dammit.
Not the tears.
And the utter defeat.
And the knowledge that my aunt is leaving me here to hose off a woman that I’m currently having unwelcome fantasies about that involve naked mud wrestling.
She’s newly divorced with a teenager who needs all her attention. She’s the mother of one of my students. She has her hands full on this ranch—even if shecanhandle more than I initially gave her credit for—and I don’t have time or patience for any more drama in my life.
Already spend my days with teenagers, and while I love it, I have my limits.
She isnotnext-fling material.
No matter what my dick thinks.
“C’mon.” I jerk my head toward the house, knowing my voice is gruff and hoping it’s gruff enough to telegraphStay awayrather thanI’m seriously looking forward to this. “I’ll hose you off, and then we can talk about the people you can hire around town to be out here with you while you’re working so you don’t do something dumb, like dropping a log on yourself and turning into wolf food, whichanyonecan sometimes do no matter how much experience they have.”
Those wounded baby blues study me long enough to make my stomach churn.
Can she see right through me?
Does she know I’d love to have my hands all over her right now?
“You’re seriously going to enjoy this, aren’t you?” she mutters.
