“God, I need to shower. I reek.”
I snort. She smells like a hard day’s work. It’s all relative. She doesn’t smell any worse than a pasture full of cattle shit.
“You don’t smellthatbad.”
“Such a charmer,” she mumbles. “Thanks, Casanova.”
Before I can stop the words, they spill past my lips. “You should come over to my place.”
“What?”
“I mean—after you shower,” I add quickly. “I’ll cook us something for supper.”
She looks like she’s about to tell me no, so I add the cherry on top.
“I’ve got a hot tub. Thought you might want to soak those sore muscles.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh my God, that sounds like heaven.”
My lips tug up at the corners. “Great. I’ll text you the address.”
“I almost forgot you don't live with your mom anymore.”
I snort. “Don’t say it like that. It’s not like I was living with her until I was thirty.”
She rolls her eyes. “Being back in Cottonwood Creek just feels the same as it used to. I forget we’re all grown up now.”
“Yeah, but some things never change.”
Like how I’m still sitting here trying to keep myself from wanting her after all these years.
Her drunken suggestion from last night echoes through my head, and I start to wonder if this hot tub invitation is more about testing the waters with her than offering her a way to relax.
Fuck me.
Mi Casa
Quinn
The earthy scent of manure seeps through my car windows, but it hardly fazes me anymore. As a veterinarian, I’ve smelled worse. I’ve never been squeamish, and being in frilly dresses never kept me from getting covered in all kinds of unpleasant things while tagging along with Wes and Tripp at Dawson Ranch—to my mother’s dismay.
Being a girly girl and getting my hands dirty were never mutually exclusive.
My car kicks up dirt as my GPS directs me to turn onto another gravel road. My body aches from a full day in the saddle, and I can’t wait to climb into the soothing heat of the hot tub.
The idea of being alone with him sends a sudden flutter of anticipation through me. My mind keeps circling back to the conversation we had last night.
I was tired of being constantly disappointed in my relationships, of my needs and desires being brushed aside, or even laughed at. I wanted more.I wanted to try everything, like a kid eyeing every dessert on the table. But more than that, I wanted to try it all with someone I trusted to take care of me.
And Tripp? He was exactly the kind of man who could help me taste-test every single one of my fantasies.
Some people might worry about keeping things casual with someone they have a history with, but I’m an expert at compartmentalizing. It’s how I can operate on my favorite patients, deliver bad news with compassion, and still work beside my cheating asshole of an ex these last several months.
I pull up the long driveway toward a house that looks like a giant luxury cabin—rugged and impressive. The house is built from rich-colored wood. It looks warm and inviting with a huge oak tree in the front and a serviceberry tree in full bloom. The smell of the sweet blossoms permeates the air as my car comes to a stop, drowning out every other scent.
“Wow,” I whisper, impressed despite myself.
Gravel crunches under my shoes as I step out of the car, my stomach twisting with nerves.
