At least I made it through the night this time. I still haven’t worked out in the middle of the night again, even though Santos now lives in the house. I’m too afraid—what if he actually saw me?
Part of me wishes he had.
And that’s the fucking problem.
I lift the bar with my feet, my thighs and calves quaking as I do the last rep before dropping the weight with a clank. The horses snort from their stalls, not yet let out into the pastures for the day.
If I knew how to take care of them, I might be able to do it myself. But I don’t and I won’t.
“Sorry guys.” I shrug, standing and wiping the towel on the nape of my neck. “I don’t know shit about horses. I’m not about to let you out and have you run my stupid ass over.”
“Probably smart.” I jump, whirling on Santos.
“Quit doing that.” I scowl, fumbling over my feet.
His lips tip into a small smile, and he crosses his arms. As he does, I take note of his clothing—a t-shirt and pair of tattered gym shorts, matched by a pair of extremely worn sneakers, the sole separating from the frame. I almost feel sorry for him…almost.
“Quit doing what? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”I think he’s a damn liar.
“Sneaking up on me?” I wave at the workout equipment. “While I work out.”
His little grin turns savage, eyes twinkling as he saunters into the barn, far too close to my personal space. “I’ve never snuck up on you while you were working out.”
I glare at him, afraid of what he’s not saying, but I don’t mention it—I can’t.
“Have at it, I guess.” I wipe down the seat and mockingly bow.
“Don’t leave on my account. Maybe you can spot for me, and me for you.”
I just stare at him. McCrae’s never once offered to work out with me. He’s always liked to keep our free time separate—says it’s good for me to have the quiet time. But I hate the silence—I hate the voices that fill my head when there’s no one there to fill it.
“Okay.” I don’t know why I agree. I’m a private person—I like my privacy in everything. But this doesn’t feel like an invasion.
His smile widens, impossibly so. “What were you working on?”
“Core. And stamina. I’m feeling a little weak.”
He eyes me before nodding toward the machine. “Weak? Are you planning to run a marathon or something?”
“No? I just?—”
“You know what’s an even better work out for your core and stamina?” His grin drops to a half smile, a slutty look that has my toes curling in my sneakers.
I blink at him. I refuse to give in to his banter—I don’t do banter.
He shrugs. “Riding horses. It’s awesome for your core and stamina.”
“Oh.” My eyes widen in surprise.
“What’d you think I was going to say?” His eyes sharpen in challenge. I’m backed into a corner. As I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, or something to that effect, the barn door slides open.
“Fucking. She thought you were going to sayfucking.”
“Faith!” I hiss, glaring at her.
“What?” She walks in, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, her top not especially tight.
“Eavesdropping is fucking rude,” I bite out. I don’t mean it, of course, but the other option would be a lie, and I’m horrible at lying.
