He smirks.
“You’re definitely more Daphne than Velma.”
“Whew, thank goodness,” I say. Then, I bite my lip. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he says, tugging me onto his chest. “At least you I get to spank.”
“Hmm,” I hum. “I’ll have to let you catch me again. I kinda like angry boss man.”
His eyes heat.
“He’s almost as sexy as just Porter.”
He chuckles. Then he goes quiet, his hand running up and down my back.
“What are you thinking?” I whisper.
“That I have no idea what to do about us.”
I lift my head and bring my eyes to his.
“Is there an us?”
He lets the question linger in the air between us, and I can hear my heart slamming against my chest as I wait for him to speak.
He lifts a hand and gently swipes a loose curl behind my ear before he finally speaks.
“I think it’s pointless anymore to try and pretend there isn’t an us. Don’t you agree?”
I nod slowly.
“What are we going to do about this nonfraternization thing?” I ask.
“That’s easy,” he says. “You’re fired.”
I pick up a pillow and whack him over the head with it. “I’m serious.”
He wrestles the pillow from my hands and flips me on my back, covering me with his body.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Iease my SUV to a stop along the long row of vehicles lining the drive into Wildhaven Storm Ranch.
I sit there, engine idling, staring out over the property.
I’ve been here a handful of times now, but I’ve never seen it like this.
Today, the ranch looks less like a working horse operation and more like the county fair relocated to its front yard.
White tents dot the fields. Banners flap in the breeze. Rows of folding chairs face a makeshift stage near the arena. Food trucks and vendor booths stretch along the dirt road leading toward the barns. Kids run past, carrying balloons shaped like horses and bulls.
Country music blares from speakers mounted on tall poles.
And people are everywhere.
