“I horseback ride… Actually, I used to horseback ride… back home.”
His eyes narrow. “In California?”
I nod.
“They have horseback riding in Central Park. New York is your home now.”
Something shivers in my chest. The way he said that… it felt non-negotiable.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” I mutter. “So, what are you going to do with your break?”
“I’m going to buy you coffee.”
“What, now? I’m wearing loaned breeches and boots that smell of yard.”
“We’re in the country, Erin. And you look…” he swallows, “the part.”
“Oh well, in that case,” I gesture to the offending footwear, “let’s take these stinky bad boys for a spin!”
Augusto
And she has no idea what that short sentence has just done to my dick.
Those boots might smell of yard—they don’t, for the record—but seeing her dressed in knee high leather and tight beige pants has messed with my head and everything south of my stomach.
I thought this gig would be easy—the wife part of it, anyway. The meetings, less so. I still need to figure who these people really are. Some are telling the truth, some have exceptional covers. Only one man I’ve identified so far is a dead cert Russian. All either have money, have the means to clean it, move it or spend it, or have something to sell. It’s like a regular old mini mart, except we’re not moving cookies, we’re moving military grade guns.
But as it’s turning out, the meetings are the easy part. It’s keeping my eyes from roaming over Erin that’s proving to be the biggest challenge.
We head to the café and sit at a small table by a window overlooking the grounds.
“Where did you go?” I ask, after placing our order with a waitress.
“Through a gorgeous pine forest. It was so beautiful and atmospheric with the spring light filtering through the trees.”
I try not to imagine Erin cantering through the forest, the leather saddle bumping rhythmically against her inner thighs, and steer the conversation back to why we’re here.
“Did you talk to anyone?”
The smile on her face falls a little. “Not really. The other wives were nervous so they weren’t up for conversation.” She flicks her lashes. “I did try.”
Her earnest expression makes something in my chest lurch and I cover her hand with mine.
“I know you did. It’s fine. It’s as useful to me to know if they’re talking to each other, not just to you. It helps me understand if there are any… pre-existing affiliations.”
Her shoulders soften. “No, they didn’t say a great deal to each other either. But we agreed to have lunch so I’m sure I’ll have more to report back on after that.”
A heaviness appears in my gut. “I won’t be able to meet this afternoon—the briefings are likely to go on all day, but you can fill me in after dinner.”
“Okay,” she nods. A long but comfortable silence follows while we both sip our coffees, then she tips her head to one side, the corners of her eyes narrowed curiously.
“Do you have any family waiting for you back home?”
The change in topic surprises me, then I remember my cover. “If you mean a wife and kids, no.”
She laughs a little nervously. “What other family would I mean?”
It’s a good point. Thankfully, she doesn’t labor it.
