Page 52 of Hats off to Love

“Let’s check on Ace one last time before we leave,” he says as we watch the film crew drive away.

“Okay,” I tell him, wanting to spend just a few more minutes with him. He links his fingers through mine and then redirects us toward his barn. It isn’t the closest to the house, but it isn’t the furthest either. At this point I’ll take as much time with him as I can get.

As we walk in, a few of the horses pop their heads out of their stall to see who is coming. They are such pretty animals and all vary in their markings and coloring. If I wasn’t so afraid of them, it would be easy to love them.

“Ace was on his best behavior today,” Stokes says as we come to a stop in front of him, and he smiles fondly at him. Ace is currently occupied with a fresh hanging kabob treat that’s loaded with apples, vegetables, and a salt lick. Ace has dark espresso coloring with nearly black hair for his mane and tail, and right on his forehead is a white patch that looks like an upside down heart or a spade.

“Are you surprised? Because I’m not. Of all the horses you’ve had over the years, he is definitely the friendliest. He loves people. In fact, it’s quite possible he thinks he is one.” I chuckle as Ace looks over at us. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he understood what I said.

“I can definitely see that,” Stokes says affectionately as he wraps his arm around me again. Mine slips under his jacket and around his waist.

“Do you think he’s going to win this year?” I ask, looking up at Stokes.

He tilts his head a tiny bit as he watches Ace and thinks about my question. “It’s possible. He has a good chance. This morning, Grayson and I reviewed the others who qualified to run, and although some of the top contender farms have been removed, there are a few who will still make it a great race. He could do it, but we’ll see.”

That’s what I love about watching the historic race at Churchill Downs—you just never know. It usually isn’t who they predict it’s going to be. While oftentimes it does end up being one of the featured farms, every now and then it’s a longshot underdog, a low-dollar-claims horse who surprises the world and wins it all.

“Well, I’d bet on him.”

Stokes looks back down at me. “Would you now?” One corner of his mouth rises as his eyes lock onto mine.

“Every time,” I tell him, just barely over a whisper.

Does he understand what I’m saying? Does he realize I’m talking about him?

His smile grows, and with his hands moving to my hips, he turns us, backs me up against the wall next to Ace’s stall, and steps directly in front of me. My palms flatten to his chest, the warmth from his skin pushing its way out from under the suit jacket and his shirt.

“I’d bet on you, too,” he says as he leans down, leaving his lips only about an inch from mine.

Oh my.

Any hope I had of being able to keep him at arm’s distance from my heart just vanished. Poof, gone.

Bending, he grabs both of my thighs and picks me right up off the ground. My skirt slides up, and my legs wrap around his very muscular waist. He leans further into me, using the wall to help anchor my weight, and my arms drape over his shoulders.

“There, that’s better,” he says, his gaze, which is now almost level with mine, narrowing in on my lips.

Involuntarily, my tongue slips out to wet them, and he groans. The vibration from his chest seeps into mine and causes my stomach to tighten. This guy, this man . . . he turns my insides upside down. Feelings, cravings, wants, things I’ve never known—he’s bringing them all out in me, and I am completely on board with wherever he wants to take us.

“Pandora’s box,” he says, his lips now brushing against mine.

“What?” I ask, sharing his breath.

“You . . . you are the box to me. You’re curiosity and temptation, and now that I’ve experienced a peek inside, it’s not enough.”

“Tell me,” I state, taking his bottom lip between my teeth and gently biting. His body pushes into me a little more.

“Oh, sweetheart, if I told you all the things I’ve been curious about, I’m certain you’d cut off my balls and feed them to me,” he teases.

At the mention of his balls, my legs tighten around him even more, and he settles right where we both want him.

“Quite frankly, you’re lucky you’ve made it this long with them.” I play along, running my fingers along the inside of his shirt collar and around his neck.

He smirks. “Long being the correct word here.” He pushes against me again, his hardest parts pushing against my softest.

A small gasp escapes as heat climbs up my neck and into my cheeks. He notices the blush and runs his thumb over my skin, from my cheek down to my neck, over my collarbone and to the swell of my breast.

I watch his gaze as he watches his thumb. With each second, his eyes are getting darker, and my heart beats faster in my chest.