“I’m serious. Anywhere but here. The neighbors to the west have a nice pond. The Johnson place has that pretty creek. But no, you head straight for the one place that’s going to get us both in trouble.”
She responds by jerking free and belly-flopping into the trough.
“Perfect,” I mutter, watching her wallow in the dirty water like it’s some kind of goat spa. “Just perfect.”
By the time she’s done with her impromptu bath, Rita looks like she’s been dipped in chocolate. Wet, sticky chocolate that’s going to be impossible to get off without a proper wash. The dirty clings to her coat, and somehow, I end up with it splattered on my top, now clinging to my curves in a way that’s not exactly ladylike.
“You can’t go home like that,” I tell her. “Dad will have a stroke.”
Rita shakes herself, sending muddy droplets flying and making my top even more transparent.
I glance around the McCoy ranch, looking for options. There’s a hose coiled next to the barn, attached to a spigot that’s definitely on their property. My pulse quickens at the thought of them catching me here. It’s anxiety. Pure anxiety.
“This is a terrible idea,” I announce to no one in particular.
But Rita’s not getting any cleaner standing there, and I’m not dragging a mud-covered goat across the pasture to get home. Plus, I’m now covered in enough mud that Dad will ask questions.
“Five minutes,” I tell myself, jogging toward the hose. “I’ll rinse her off and get out of here before anyone notices.”
The water comes out in a steady stream, cold enough to make me gasp when it splashes back on me. My nipples harden beneath my wet shirt, and I curse under my breath. Rita, surprisingly, stands still for her impromptu bath. Maybe she realizes she’s in trouble, or maybe she actually likes being clean. Or, maybe she’s just sprung a brain tumor and has morphed into a cooperative animal.
I’m bent over, working the worst of the mud out of her coat, when I hear footsteps behind me. My body recognizes them before my brain does. Three sets, three different gaits. My skin prickles with awareness.
“Well, well,” Jesse’s voice drawls, and the sound goes straight through me. “What do we have here?”
I freeze, water still running, Rita dripping beside me. The cold water has made everything worse, or better, depending on one’s perspective, and there are three sets of eyes burning into me.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I say without turning around, because if I turn around right now, they’ll see exactly how wet I am. How my body is responding to their presence.
“Looks like you’re stealing our water,” Wyatt says, his voice is rough. The sound sends heat spiraling through me despite the cold water.
I turn to face them while still holding the hose, and immediately wish I hadn’t. All three are standing there with their arms crossed, but their eyes... their eyes are dark, hungry, taking in every detail of my soaked appearance.
Jesse’s gaze drops to my chest, where my top has become basically see-through. Wyatt’s jaw clenches as his eyes track the water droplets rolling down my neck. Boone’s trying to look anywhere but at me and failing, big-time. Which I kind of get a kick out of. I’m not going to lie.
“I don’t need to steal water. Give me a break.”
“Oh, really? Because it looks like you’re stealing to me,” Jesse says, his grin infuriating me.
“I’m borrowing it. I’ll give it back.”
“Used? Used borrowed water?” Wyatt asks, and the way he says “used” makes it sound dirty.
“New. Clean. I’ll return it in gallon jugs. Will that work for you?” My voice comes out breathier than intended.
“How long will it take for you to make good on this promise?” he continues, stepping closer.
“I’ll… I’ll get back to you on that.”
Jesse moves closer too, his sleeves rolled up, showing off forearms that have no business looking that good. His muscles flex as he reaches to push his hair back, a movement I helplessly watch.
“You know,” he says, his eyes doing a slow sweep down my body, “most people who want to spy on us at least try to be subtle about it.”
“Spy?” I sputter, shifting and accidentally spraying water on myself again. “I’m not spying. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m washing a goat.”
“On our property.” Jesse’s stepped close enough now that I can see his pupils are dilated.
“Because your property is where she got dirty.”
