Is this what I want?
I did last night.
Trying to imagine sitting and watching a movie together, or going out to eat, afterthat?
What would it be like if he went slow? Gently?
Would it be the same?
Or better?
The thought of his lips touching every part of my body makes my skin tingle in the cool morning as I pull on my clothes.
I want there to be a next time.
He said he does too.
There’s a crazy urge in me to text and ask if he can come back.
But the tiny part of my rational mind still working is telling me to wait. Give it a few days.
I have to get my horse loaded and head home anyways.
My thighs burn as I follow the familiar path past the campers. Are they sore from him, or the rigorous hours of training I’ve been putting myself through the last few days?
Fuck, so many more questions than answers.
Biggie.
Will I ever know his name?
“Oliver Brookes! What the hell are you doing?” I turn the corner in time to see him and his brother pulling out the bales of my hay from the bunk behind the stalls.
He freezes, his jaw clenching under his short auburn beard to stare at me.
“Just helping get these out where you can reach them,” the younger of the two pipes up.
But when he looks up at me, he swallows hard, then jerks his thumb towards Oliver. “It was his idea.”
I try to take a steadying breath to tamp down the irritation raging through me. “Thanks. Except now it’s in the mud.” I glower at both of them.
“Give me some credit,” Oliver mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.
I think he’s doing that just to make his biceps bulge. Well, he won’t intimidate me.
“I used some of our old shit to put down first.” He points with his worn leather glove. “Weallknow how particular you are about your alfalfa.”
The jerk has the audacity to smirk at me.
“Which is why I don’t want anyone messing with it.” I raise my chin, glaring down my nose at him.
His eyes drop to my neck and his nostrils flare ever so slightly.
“Fine. Come on Brent.” He peels off his gloves and shoves them into the back pocket of his tight jeans.
When he steps past me, he pauses. “But you might want to get one of your boyfriends to help you. There’s still four more bales.”
My knuckles dig into my hips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can get them on my own.”
