Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“We might be here until Christmas,” I whisper, and I can see him smile out of the corner of my eye. Tucker Hendrix has a great smile. “What do you plant in the flower boxes on the house?”
“Is this your way of distracting yourself?”
“Yep.” I chance looking down at him and then squeak and look up again. “Just talk to me, Hotshot.”
“I haven’t planted anything in them. When I was little, my mom put things in there, and when Ava was in high school she planted black-eyed Susans because she liked the name.”
“Black-eyed Susans are considered a noxious weed,” I inform him, shifting in the saddle. Okay, this isn’t so bad. “They’ll take over everything. But they’re pretty. You should plant something in there this summer. Do you have a vegetable garden?”
“No, I don’t.”
Now I do look down at him and find him watching me with the calmest green eyes. So patient. So freaking good.
“You have the space,” I inform him. There’s so much space out here. It’s a shame he doesn’t have gardens.
“I’m going to lead Ellie in a slow walk. Are you okay with that?”
I nod and then do my best not to yelp when Ellie starts to walk.
Jesus, who’s idea was this?
“So, you think I should plant a garden?”
“Sure. You could do raised beds, but you’d have to do an enclosure of some kind to keep the deer out. Or, you could have a greenhouse. Both, really.”
“What kind of vegetables would you plant?” he asks, as if we’re sitting on the porch, having a normal conversation. As if I’m not forty feet in the air, riding around on a beast that could take off running at any second and throw me to the hard ground, breaking my leg in the process.
“Oh, the usual things. Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers. Potatoes for sure. Maybe some lettuce and squash. You could do onions and jalapeños, and then you could make your own salsa.”
“Do you make your own salsa?” he asks me and steers Ellie to the left.
“Shit, I’m going to fall off.”
“No, you won’t. Whoa, girl.” Ellie comes to a stop, and then Tucker takes my hand in his and presses it to the horse’s neck. “Just pet her. Enjoy her. Ellie loves being out here with someone on her back. She loves the attention.”
I brush my hand back and forth and soak in the warmth of the horse and feel myself relax a little. I love horses. “She’s a good girl.”
“Yes, she is. You’ll get used to this. Now, you take the reins.”
“I should not be in charge of any of this, Tucker.”
He chuckles and presses the leather into my hands. “Yes, you should. I’ll tell you what to do, and this horse will mind her manners.”
I want his hands on me again.
And that never happens.
He talks me through riding this gorgeous animal on my own, and when we make our way back to the barn, he helps me slide off her, and I turn in his arms and high-five him.
Tucker looks surprised as he slaps his hand against mine, and then he laughs.
“Did you actually enjoy that?” he asks.
“Holy shit, it was great. I mean, my ass is gonna be sore”—his eyes darken—“and I’ll never win at a rodeo, but yeah. That was fun.”
“We’ll get you back on her tomorrow.”
I blink up at him. Does that mean he’ll touch me again? “Tomorrow?”
“Yep. And every day until you’re a natural. Now, let’s go find that other herd so we can make sure everyone’s healthy.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
I need to get laid. That’s my whole issue. It’s been a long time, and I have an itch to scratch, and that’s why I can’t be within twenty yards of Tucker Hendrix without wanting to climb him like a damn tree.
The vibrating, silicone kind of partner isn’t helping. Trust me. I tried.
I’m not a relationship person, never have been. I prefer to meet someone the old-fashioned way—a.k.a. in a bar—and enjoy one night with them, then go about my life until it’s time to scratch the itch again. This means less drama, fewer complications, and everyone is happy in the end. No, I don’t love to be touched, and strangers aren’t my vibe, but a girl still has needs. I can suck it up and grit my teeth to fulfill those needs. I’m just picky in who I choose, and I want someone who wants to get off pretty fast, no snuggling—yikes—and then go our own way.
So, after taking a shower, blowing my hair dry, and putting on a little makeup, I dress in clean jeans with a simple black sweater and head into town. I’ve heard Ava talk about Lucky’s Bar in downtown Silver Springs, and since it’s a Friday night, I’ll give it a shot.
The bar is exactly what I expected. Dim lighting inside, with pool tables in the back, a long bar, and several tables. There’s a stage with a dance floor on one side, where I assume a live band must play once in a while, but it’s empty now. Instead, music spills out through invisible speakers, and I recognize this song as a classic country hit from the ’90s.