“Well, I agree with you there. Fornow,” I add. “But in a few years? She could be just what he needs.”
Logan stands up. “How about we go for a ride together? Then, we’ll get breakfast.”
I stand with him, but I put my hand on his arm and angle him in the direction of the main house. “Can we flip those two things? I’m starved.”
“How about we compromise?” Logan says. “We’ll grab food from the house and bring it with us on our ride.”
* * *
I sit atop Queen, the “lady” of the stables as Logan’s dad likes to call her, while Logan mounts Dexter. Thanks to Mrs. Wild, we’ve got a picnic breakfast tucked into the bag on Logan’s lap.
It’s already ridiculously hot out, despite it not being close to midday, and I wipe the sweat off my forehead as Queen breaks into a canter.
I’ve got one of Logan’s spare cowboy hats on my head, thank God, so my face is shielded from the sun, but I’m still hotter than I would be sitting inside an air-conditioned bar right now.
And yet, there’s no place I’d rather be than riding next to my best friend as we head through his family’s massive acreage toward our favorite overlook.
“Whoa.” Logan barely has to pull on the reins, and Dexter slows to a stop.
I call out to Queen, and she slows to a walk and then stops when we reach Logan at the top of the hill.
“Look at that.” I point to the scattering of green and gold and purple below. “It’s like you can see all of Hill Country from here.”
“I love this spot,” Logan agrees.
I jump off Queen, and Logan and I tie up the horses over by a small spring-fed pool tucked in the shade beneath some oak trees. We set down our bag on the flat rock a few feet away.
We sit and eat our breakfast of bacon strips and fried egg English muffin sandwiches, and I use my phone to take pictures of the wildflower beds below.
“Wildflowers would look nice in a wedding bouquet,” I say randomly.
Logan jerks his head to me. “What did you just say?”
I shake off the heat filling my cheeks.It’s just the sun. “Nothing,” I say. “Don’t know where that came from.”
“It sounded like Macey Henwood was talking about a wedding fantasy,” he says in his slow drawl.
“I must still be caught up in last night,” I say.
He puts his large, callused hand on my cheek. “Fantasies are fun to play around with.”
He brushes my skin gently, and before I realize what’s happening, his lips are on mine. Hard and soft at the same time. Only Logan can pull off that erotic-as-hell combination. His tongue slips between my lips. And then, he tastes me. Every damn inch of my mouth until I’m moaning.
He abruptly breaks away, and it takes every ounce of willpower inside of me not to grab him back and kiss him myself.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
His eyes are filled with an intensity that I literally watch him blink away until all I can see is his calm, rebellious expression.
“Shit. I think last night messed with our heads,” he says in a hoarse tone.
“I think it did.” I turn away from him and stare out at the rolling hills.
