Her words cut off and she rubs her palm over her left knee. I feel a strangely powerful urge to wrap my arms around her and cradle her to my chest.
She takes a deep breath. “I had recently learned how to jump. There was a competition I wanted to enter and I didn’t listen when my riding instructor warned I was setting the bar too high. The horse balked at the next jump and I lost my balance. Fell right off. At the same time, someone’s pet Chihuahua got loose in the ring and the horse freaked when the dog got underfoot. She accidentally stomped my leg and it was a bad injury. I needed three surgeries and tons of physical therapy. Sometimes my leg aches in the damp weather and I stick to low impact therapeutic workouts, mostly swimming. But aside from a scar and a cautionary tale, I’m actually pretty lucky.”
Tye had propped himself up on his elbow while she was talking and now he gazes at her leg with frank interest. “That’s why you’re always so overdressed, huh?”
She throws him a look. “I’m appropriately dressed. But I’ve always been a little uneasy about the scars.”
He grins. “Let’s see. Pull your skirt up.”
“Tiberius,” I warn.
He stretches out on his back and continues to grin at Cecilia. “Come on. Show us. It’ll be like therapy.”
“Forget it,” she snaps.
“Okay. Why don’t you move a little closer so I can put my head in your lap? It’ll make us both feel better.”
She rolls her eyes. “Is he always like this?” she asks me.
“Only when he’s awake,” I say.
“Nothing dirty about it,” Tye insists. “I’m just looking for a pillow.”
Cecilia unties the pale pink sweater that was knotted around her waist and tosses it to him. “Use this for your pillow.”
He balls it up and stuffs it beneath his head. “Thanks, sweetheart. I kind of like how you stick with a theme.”
“I have a theme?”
Tye yawns and shuts his eyes. “Everything you own is pink. I’m not complaining. It’s cute that you’re so prissy.”
She sighs and unfolds her legs, sticking them straight out while careful to keep her skirt modestly smoothed. “Not everything I own is pink,” she insists and looks at me. “Fort said you picked out these boots.”
“I might have had a say,” I admit.
After consulting Cecilia’s tastes, courtesy of her hacked Pinterest account, I arranged a purchase from a store in Laramie. Last night I sent the owner a nice chunk of change to open the place at the crack of dawn. One of my guys was waiting to pick up the boots so Cecilia would have them first thing this morning.
Cecilia studies me more closely. “You seem to have a very good eye when it comes to my taste in fashion.”
I meet her gaze without blinking. “I’m observant.”
She breaks the stare first, letting her eyes coast over my jaw and start to move down my chest before she catches herself in the act and shifts gears, brushing some imaginary dirt from her skirt. “Yeah, I’d say there’s not much that gets past you, Julian.”
“Why would you want to put anything past me, Cecilia?”
She clears her throat and her breathing does a little skip.
I stifle a grin of triumph. She tries so hard to disguise the way she gets all flustered around me.
“Thank you for the boots,” she finally says.
“You’re welcome.” I’ve already memorized her features but when she’s this close I refuse to look away.
And why should I? She’s fun to look at and I brought her here for a reason. I’ll stare at her all I want.
Cecilia’s beauty is fresh and uncomplicated. Her nose is straight with a faint crease on the tip and her lips are ripe and tempting. Sunlight catches the hint of red in her thick brown hair, gathered in a low ponytail. Her wide brown eyes are lighter in color than mine. Softer. Cecilia’s default expression is serious so a smile from her is that much more rewarding.
She’s not smiling now. She’s thoughtful. A wrinkle of distress appears between her brows but is swiftly flattened.
