“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
He said it simply. No charm, no agenda. Just a man who wanted to be near me and wasn’t pretending otherwise.
We worked side by side. Hay nets first. I pulled the bales from the stack while Graham cut the twine and shook the flakes loose. His forearms flexed with every motion, and I was furious at myself for noticing, because I’d seen a thousand people handle hay bales and not once had the sight made my mouth go dry.
Cassie watched us from her stall with the knowing expression of a horse who’d seen everything and judged most of it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered to her as I passed.
Graham glanced over. “Talking to the horses again?”
“She started it.”
He grinned. That real one. The one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made his whole face go warm, and I had to look away because looking at it did something dangerous to my chest.
We moved to the water buckets. I crouched to check Starlight’s trough and Graham was right there, kneeling beside me, and the proximity was suddenly unbearable. His knee against mine. The smell of him: soap, coffee, something underneath that was justhim, warm skin and outdoors and the faint ghost of the flannel he wore every morning.
Our hands collided on the bucket rim.
Neither of us pulled back.
“Rose.” His voice was low. Not a question. Just my name, said like he was testing whether he was still allowed to use it.
I looked at him. This close, I could see the flecks of gold in the gray-green of his eyes. Could see the exact moment his attention dropped to my mouth and stayed there.
“We’re in my barn,” I said.
“Aye.”
“The door isn’t locked.”
“I noticed.”
“Anyone could walk in.”
“They could.”
I should have stood up. Checked the trough. Made a comment about water levels. Done literally anything that a rational, responsible ranch owner would do when kneeling next to a man who made her forget that rational and responsible were words.
Instead I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward me.
The kiss was immediate and filthy. Not the slow-building tension of the lounge, not the urgency of last night in my cabin. This was broad daylight, middle of the morning, horses ten feet away, and I didn’t care. His hand went into my hair and his mouth opened against mine and I made a sound that would’ve embarrassed me if I’d had any pride left.
I didn’t. He’d burned through it.
Graham pulled back just enough to breathe. “Here?”
“Here.”
“Rose, if Kaya walks in?—”
“Then she’ll have a really good story.” I pulled him back by the collar. “Shut up and kiss me.”
He kissed me. Harder this time, one hand at the base of my skull, the other sliding around my waist and pulling me flush against him. I could feel him through his jeans, hard already, and the knowledge that I did that to him, that just kissing me in a barn in the middle of the afternoon had him like this, sent a hot wave of want straight through my center.
We were still on our knees. The position was ridiculous. I didn’t care.
