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I immediately headed for the filly in the first stall. She was as beautiful as could be, just like Nate had said. Her coat was white and dappled with black dots, and her mane and tail were completely black.
My chest squeezed, affection pulsing through my blood.
When it came to horses, I believed in love at first sight.
Easing up to the wooden fence, I stepped onto the bottom rung so I could peer over the side. “Hey there, girl. You are something special, aren’t you?”
She was grazing from a low bin filled with hay, and I leaned over the top rail so I could reach down and brush my fingers down the slope of her neck.
It was then I heard the low, quiet grumble stake through the air from behind. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”
I whipped around, and my eyes went wide, shock tossing my mind into confusion.
It didn’t take long to come to realization.
I really hated to agree with the asshole, but yeah, you had to be fucking kidding me.
No, no, no, this was not the Mr. Greyson.
He couldn’t be.
But there was no mistaking the fact that the jerk from earlier stared back.
Okay.
Glared.
Glowered.
Whatever you wanted to call it.
All I knew was his icy blue eyes burned through me like daggers. Searing me to the depths. Somehow they narrowed even more as they moved from my face and down my spine, dragging farther in a slow slide of obnoxious observation.
His gloriously obscene face twisted into a disgusted sneer when his attention came to rest on my backside.
Right.
I was fully leaned over the top rail wearing my cut-off shorts. Believe me, they had completely earned their name.
My ass up in the air, so up front and center it might as well have been in a display case.
In my defense, it was going to be like a thousand degrees today, and I was supposed to be out working the horse, showing off my skills, wooing this elusive Mr. Greyson into hiring me for this sweet, easy gig.
It’d seemed like the right choice in attire at the time.
Clearly, I’d been mistaken.
On all accounts.
I mean, I’d imagined Ryder’s cousin was going to have some kind of stick up his ass, but I sure as heck hadn’t expected it to be stuffed so far up there it would never see the light of day.
And no, I’d definitely not imagined he’d look quite like this.
This guy was no rancher.
This…this…dark angel who oozed controlled wickedness soaked in a vat of arrogance.
Frustration threatened to roll up my throat on a groan, all mixed with this sticky awareness that covered my flesh. My throat suddenly felt a little too thick for comfort.
Crap, his glare only darkened as he took me in, gaping at him where I’d frozen perched ass-up on the fence.
Finally gathering my wits enough to move, I slowly twisted around and slipped off the fence. My boots hit the ground with a thud.
Icy eyes traced over me from the front, scorn flying from him, as if he were personally affronted by the sight of me.
Seriously, what had he expected? For me to show up in a pencil skirt and heels? Or maybe in a suit? You know, considering he was still wearing one. He’d at least had the sense to remove the jacket, and the sleeves of his white and blue striped button-down were rolled up his forearms. It exposed that sleek muscle I’d been sure had been hidden under that suit.
But what took me aback was his arms were covered in intricate black ink, indistinct faces and designs.
Heat flashed, sparks that raced across my skin.
I bit my lip to stave off the redness, the awkwardness, and I fumbled around in my head for a way to make this right.
I needed a redo.
A fresh start.
An eraser to completely scrub out the run-in from this morning.
That seemed the best course of action.
I pasted on a bright, inviting smile and stuck out my hand, my voice all kinds of chipper. “Hello, you must be Mr. Greyson. I’m Paisley Dae. It’s so nice to meet you.”
It was amazing that stony brow could curl at all, but against all odds, disbelief knitted his forehead. “You’re going to stand there and act like we’ve never met.”
It wasn’t even a question.
It was a growl of judgement.
“Have we?” I feigned confusion.
His head swung to Maybe sitting in front of the barn before his attention swiveled back, a sound of irritation ripping off his tongue. “Just as I said this morning, I don’t have time for this.”
He started to turn on his heel like he was just going to walk away.
That time, it was my forehead that curled. “Time for what?”
“For you to play games. Acting innocent when you are the farthest from it.”
Me, acting innocent?
I could only imagine the skeletons this guy had in his closet. He clearly needed to purchase a ten-thousand-acre ranch so he had a place to bury them all.
