“There.” His voice dropped to that gravelly register that made my toes curl in my boots. “Keep it there. It’s safer than waving it at the clouds. Wouldn’t want you losing your only link to civilization.”
He straightened up, withdrawing his heat and leaving me feeling suddenly, jarringly cold in the morning sun. He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, looking entirely too comfortable with the way he’d just undone me.
“See you later, City Girl.”
He turned and disappeared the way he’d come.
“I hate him,” I whispered to the empty air. Then, after a pause, I added, “I really, really hate that I don’t hate him.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Slade
Walking away from her was the hardest eight seconds of my life.
I didn’t look back, but I could feel her eyes on me, hot and confused. My hand was still tingling from where my knuckles had grazed the denim of her back pocket. It had been a split-second touch, a calculated risk, but the jolt that had gone through my arm was stronger than any hit I’d taken from an angry bull.
“Get it together, Everett,” I muttered as I walked into the barn housing my stallion, Whirlwind. I had to keep him away from the other horses because he was too high strung. I’d had him since he was a colt, and he traveled with me everywhere. I even loaned him out to some of the riders—
the ones I trusted.
I’d spent my whole career being the one in control. You don’t stay on the back of a beast named Widowmaker for eight seconds by being indecisive. You have to be the boss. You have to dictate the terms.
The bull that had won me the title this year was the same one that had destroyed my shoulder, so I wasn’t naive about fate’s twists and turns.
And Jamie was a twist I certainly had never expected.
She was a variable I had never accounted for before. She was sharp, she was sassy, and she looked at me the way I used to look at a rank bull—calculating the danger and wondering if the ride was worth the risk. I was going to make sure she decided it was, even if I had to take every piece of her armor off, piece by piece.
After I fed my horse and made sure he was comfortable for the day, I threw myself into the grunt work of the ranch, earning my keep, and hoping the physical labor would burn off the restless energy that had been building since she’d stepped into my cabin. I mucked out the stalls, hauled hay bales, and checked the fencing on the north pasture.
My busted shoulder screamed at me, a sharp, biting reminder of the night in Vegas when the world had turned upside down, but I welcomed the pain. It was better than thinking about the heat of Jamie’s body pressed against mine for just a split second.
In my world, a split second could feel like eternity.
I kept catching glimpses of her throughout the afternoon. I saw her sitting on the porch of her cabin, a thick book in her lap, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looked peaceful, but every time a horse whinnied or a truck shifted gears, her head would snap up, her eyes searching the grounds. She was searching for me.
She wouldn’t admit it, not even under oath, but she was looking for me.
And I was watching her.
Imagining striding over and throwing her over my shoulder and carrying back to my cabin—to finish what she’d been too afraid to start.
Late that afternoon, I went to the paddock to get Buttercup for Jamie’s riding lesson. Lucinda had told me she’d finally signed up for an activity, and I planned to take full advantage of the fact.
Buttercup was a buckskin mare and steady as a rock—the perfect horse for a beginner. I doubted Jamie had ever been near a horse.
I couldn’t wait to see her in that saddle. Just the thought of those soft thighs spread wide across the leather was enough to make my blood run thick. She’d be nervous and off-balance, looking for an anchor.
That meant I’d have every excuse to step right between her legs and put my hands on her. Grip her waist, adjust her hip. I wanted her to know who was keeping her safe. It was a dirty, underhanded, dominant move, and I wasn’t even slightly ashamed of it.
“You’re gonna help me break in a librarian, Buttercup,” I whispered, stroking the mare’s velvet nose. “Try to be on your best behavior. She’s got a sting like a hornet, but I think she’s got a heart of gold under all that snark.”
The sun began its slow descent, turning the Texas sky into a bruised palette of purple and deep gold. The Golden Hour. It was the time of day when everything looked softer, more forgiving. It was also the time of day when a man’s thoughts turned toward things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Like the way Jamie’s mouth had parted this morning, silent and begging.
I saddled Buttercup and put her into the corral, the leather creaking under my hands—a sound that usually settled my nerves, but today it just felt like a countdown. I’d told Lucinda to start the lesson, and then I’d come and take over. I didn’t want Jamie to take one look at me and walk away before her foot even touched the stirrup. She was stubborn enough to do just that, and I wasn’t about to let my city girl retreat behind her cabin door again.
I knew I was lying to myself. I wasn’t there just to teach her to ride.
