Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.
“I’m glad you agree.” I flash her the debutant smile I perfected during my years in front of the camera. “The tack you had delivered has been sorted and arranged in lockers with the corresponding horse, and there’s coffee in the lounge.”
With that, I leave Equestrian Barbie standing in the aisle of my family’s barn, choking on her own rudeness.
ELEVEN-EIGHTEEN.
I was hoping to arrive earlier than this to surprise my girl with our first date, but the break-in at the office had stolen most of my time this morning. It was a particularly odd break in—although not our first, given that the location of the office is in downtown Edmonton—but nothing was taken. Just a weak attempt at hacking our client records, e-mails, and personal information. After a three-hour meeting, I was assured that the system was secure and the faults in the security system were being rectified immediately.
As I come up the driveway, I can see why her father would entertain almost any option to keep this place. Given my profession, I harbor a deep love and appreciation for not only a good piece of land, but also the structures on its grounds. Willow Bay Stables is among some of the most gorgeous farms in Alberta. Pride tugs at me for being able to help this family afford to keep it. I am deeply invested in earning a blessing from Larry Daniels, but I would proceed without one if that were my only option.
Just as I pull the truck up outside the main entrance of the barn, I see her. Wild, blonde hair is being tossed around by the wind, and she seems indignant, muttering under her breath. She’s sporting the same cut-off shorts as yesterday, her mile-long legs tucked into faded cowboy boots.
Perfection.
Her head swings up at the sound of my door slamming, and the frown on her face fades a little. “Good morning.”
“Mornin.’”
Her body quivers as my hand settles over her hip.
“You look lovely,” I praise before kissing her on the cheek.
I know she hates it, but I’ll admit I’m inclined to torture her a little after the show she put on last night. Her brazen behavior caught me off guard, but only further showcased the fire under her otherwise settled demeanor. Nonetheless, all of it left me with a raging hard-on and a long drive back home.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as I spread my hand across the small of her back.
Feigning sadness, I playfully growl at her. “Not happy to see me?”
She rolls her eyes, placing a palm on my chest. “I didn’t say that.”
Her fingers graze my heart as if there’s no barrier between her and it. She’s simply able to touch it whenever she pleases.
“I’m here for our first date.”
“Oh.” Her head tilts up, excited, blue eyes finding mine. “And what might that entail?”
I skim the edge of her denim shorts with my fingers. “Well, after last night, I was thinking we’d start off by getting you”—I tug on one of her belt loops—“wet.”
“This is not exactly what I had in mind,” London pouts, looking at the ground between her feet and back up at me for the third time in a minute.
After tying the slipknot on Street’s lead rope, I bend under his neck and come to stand behind her. “Is that so?” My voice is intentionally a husky whisper, and I’m rewarded with the small goose bumps that pebble her fair skin. “What was it you had in mind?”
She involuntarily sways back against my chest when I wrap my arm around her. “You know . . .”
“I’m not so sure I do.” My lips trail over her shoulder. The devil himself surely would be proud of the tease I’m giving her.
As if reading my mind, she grumbles and straightens her body. “You’re the devil.”
“I was entirely chivalrous, Miss Daniels.” I reach to take the hose from her hand. “I believe it was you who started this particular facet of our relationship.”
After snatching the hose back from me, she aims it into the soapy buckets at her feet, mumbling under her breath.
A chuckle rumbles from somewhere in my chest as I pull my shirt over my head in time to hear what sounds like a growl come from the woman now standing out of my line of vision.
“Do you enjoy teasing me?”
Not turning around, I toss my shirt onto the railing next to where Achilles and Street have been tied up so we can give them the horse equivalent of a bath before the weather gets too cold. “Yes, and you like it.”
My girl took a hit to her confidence where riding is concerned, and it makes me want to wage a war on Hell itself for making her feel that way. Or more so on a particular pompous asshole. I know she’s not able to ride, at least not for another two months—provided she sustains no further aggravation to her back. But I desperately want her to find some of her strength again. Which is why today is going to be about her and the horses. And, of course, me.
When she doesn’t answer, I begin to worry that I pushed her too far or upset her. So I turn around, but she’s smirking at me.
“You didn’t answer me.” I frown.
“Momma said if you don’t have anything nice to say, best not to say anything at all.”
I have only a split second to be confused before the cold spray from the hose hits my chest, and it’s followed by the sweetest giggle angels have ever heard.
Running a hand over my face and up into my hair, I shake some of the water off my body. “You did not just spray me with the hose,” I rumble.
Cocking her perfectly arched eyebrow at me, she fights against the smile tugging her full lips. “I thought you could use a cold shower.”
My boots, soaked and heavy, are stalking towards her before the sane part of my brain is able to keep up.
“Uh-uh,” she stammers, backing towards Achilles.
I crowd her space until the top of her shoulders are pressed against her horse’s side. “You’re playing with fire,” I bark.
“Well, actually, if we’re being technical, I was playing with water, but . . .” Her voice trails off when my arms cage her in on either side of her honey-colored hair.
Water drips from my chest onto hers as my faces inches lower. “So clever.”
“Mm-hm,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering from my lips to my eyes repeatedly.
Rocking my hips against hers, I make her feel how badly I want her. While the teasing is fun, I have no intention of misleading her. She is mine and I will claim her body entirely.
Her fingers trail over my stomach muscles, spread across the planes of my chest, and eventually lace together behind my neck, pulling me closer. By now, both of our bodies are soaked from having been pressed so tightly together. I can feel her nipples through her shirt every time her chest heaves, and the anticipation is wreaking havoc on my system.
I lower my head and cup her face with my hand. “You’re everything, London.” My voice comes out harsher than I intended, but the feel of her against me has my restraint barely contained.
My nose brushes hers as she waits in anticipation for our lips to touch. My eyes close, too. I want nothing more than to be overwhelmed by the touch and taste of her sweet kiss for the first time.
“What the hell?”
My head pulls back, recognition flooding as I swing to find a glaring cowboy twisting the knob on the hose, which has apparently began to flood the area. It was forgotten due to more pressing matters.
Speaking of which . . . I do my best to adjust myself subtly before speaking.