Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
She’s also in leggings and a hoodie. Her hair is pulled up into a tiny, messy ponytail at the back of her head. Tendrils work their way loose and fall down the milky-white skin of her nape.
“Right. So I hold the reins”—she practices with both hands—“and I sit up straight, pressing my heels down into the stirrups. Don’t grip with my legs…”
My body seizes. Pulse goes haywire.
She’s teaching herself how to ride a horse, isn’t she?
She looks ridiculous sitting there on the stand, knees bunched up because the stirrups aren’t long enough for her legs.
But yeah, she’s also really fucking pretty. Especially when she furrows her brow and chews on her lip, deep in concentration.
The clueless, entitled waste of space I want her to be wouldn’t be interested in learning how to ride. But here Lainey is, sneaking out on a Saturday night not to hang with friends or get wasted but to try out something new.
Try out something I love.
Remember you hate her. She is entitled. She is wasting your family’s hard-earned dollars.
Lainey must hear me because she glances over her shoulder and her eyes go wide when they lock on mine.
She screams, dropping her phone. Then her body lurches to the left and she screams again. Her arms and legs flail as she falls and falls. And falls.
But she doesn’t hit the ground because I lunge forward, my saddlebag falling to the floor. I loop one arm around her waist. I grab her arm with my free hand. Then I use the bulk of my body to push her back upright in the saddle, her back to my front.
Searing awareness spreads through me at the sudden rush of contact. My other hand is splayed over her belly, and I can feel how hard she’s breathing.
She’s panicking. We both are.
My breath moves the hair tucked behind her ear. “I got you.”
“Jesus Christ, Colton.” She reaches up to pluck the earbud out of her ear, but I notice she doesn’t pull away from me. “What the hell are you—”
“Was out for a ride. Better question, what the hell are you doing out here?”
“Nash let me take some videos of him explaining how to ride a horse. I figured I’d, um”—she blushes—“try out his tips.”
She smells so fucking good. Her skin is warm. I can see the frantic thump of her pulse in the hollow beneath her ear.
“You shouldn’t be here alone.” It’s the only thing my short-circuiting brain can think to say.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
“I don’t sneak.”
“Yes, you do. It’s almost like you wanted me to fall off this thing.”
“Would you leave if that happened? I’d never wish an injury on anyone, but…”
“Even in a cast, I’d stay. Just to spite you.”
I’m fighting a grin. “Sorry, the only butt I’m wiping is my son’s.”
Lainey grabs my hand and tries to pry it off her body. “You’re such an asshole. Let me go.”
“Only if you stay outta my way. We talked about this, remember?”
She cuts me a withering glare over her shoulder. “You were the one creeping on me, Colton. I’m innocent in all this.”
Fuck, she’s quick.
She’s calling me out. And now her eyes flick to my mouth and flash with something like…
Like hunger.
A surge of heat hits me squarely between my legs. I hate not being in control of my body. My thoughts.
I hate her.
“I was just doing my job,” I bite out. “Which requires me to—”
“Whatever.” She’s clawing at my hand now. “Let me go, or I’ll scream. I can get off by myself—”
“Of course you can. I saw evidence of that the other day.”
“Fuck you.”
“Thanks but no thanks. Now turn around and put your hands on my shoulders.”
Her eyes glitter. The anger I see there—damn it, I’m curious to know what it’s about. Doesn’t make sense for a perfectly put-together princess like Lainey Brown to be pissed at the world.
“No,” she spits out.
“You’d best listen, Dallas. I got handcuffs on me.”
That makes her laugh. “Stop. You don’t have—”
“Wanna bet?”
“So you’re the sheriff now too? In addition to being the foreman and an asshole?” Finally breaking eye contact, she shakes her head. “Where do you find the time?”
“Don’t need much sleep. I will throw you over my shoulder if you don’t start listening, Dallas.”
“Will you cuff me before or after that happens?”
Now I’m the one laughing. “Before, probably. But knowing you…hell, you’d still find a way to hurt me, wouldn’t you?”
“Getting punched would be your kink.”
“What an inappropriate thing to say while on the job.”
“You know what’s inappropriate? The fact that you won’t take your hands off me—”
“Because I’m tryin’ to do my job here. Let me.” I use my foreman voice. The one that brooks no argument, except from my son. But that’s neither here nor there. “Put your hands on my shoulders so I can get you down and then I can get the fuck out of here.”