A swift and gentle few steps and I’ve got her pinned against the wall, my hand over her mouth. Her chest heaves as she acclimates to the movement, to me handling her after weeks of hardly any physical contact. She looks up at me, mossy green eyes flaring. “Don’t curse at church,” I warn her quietly, nearly ready to turn her around and swat her behind, because right now, she certainly earned it. But I don’t, because I have restraint, and more than that, that isn’t how it is with us.
She’s temporary in my life.A season, I remind myself.
“And also, the doors are open, and your whisper ain’t that much of a whisper.” Our faces are the closest they’ve ever been or will be. I’ve got the strongest urge to grab her bythose cute fucking cheeks and slam my big, filthy mouth against hers. My dick wants that very much, because I've been fighting a hard-on since my boots hit the ground. “So please keep it down so Sable Sky doesn’t chase you out of here with a pitchfork.”
I slide my hand off of her mouth and step back, but I don’t get far. Because she reaches for me, filling her fist with my shirt, keeping me there. Near her.
Goddamn it.
My heart is racing.
I nearly killed myself on that bucking machine today. My back is one bad ride away from being shot, I’m sure of it, and my neck has seen better days too. The headaches. The headaches are so unreal.
But right now, my heart is racing, and I feel more alive than I do under those arena lights, more alert than I do with my whole body on fire from training.
“Would they?” she breathes, her eyes searching mine, fist still holding me close to her.Guh-gung. Guh-gung. Guh-gung.My ears throb from the echo of my racing heart.
My mouth is cottony and uncomfortable. “Maybe.” I half smile. “I wouldn't." I shrug. “Well, I’d give you a head start.”
She tips forward, her laughter bending her in half. The sound of her is so sweet to my ears, so gentle and melodic—and there goes my heart rate again.
“Stop. Okay. You’re right.” She rights herself, smoothing her hands down her tank top and skirt, making my eyes chase her beautiful hands.
She has very beautiful hands. I’d die a thousand times before I ever told her, because that’s not something you say aloud, but I love her hands. I’d love to see them around my cock, oh Lord. Look at me, lecturing her about being in church and cursing and I’m imagining the worst. My filthyhands all over her sweet, smooth body, all young and… too good for me.
Inevitably, guilt hits, because I know in my heart I’m roping this girl into a mess, and it’s not fair to her. Especially now that I know her a little better.
But she will make the perfect wife for the court, and I’ll do anything to keep Sadie. And it’s not like Sable Sky is crawling with single ladies. I mean, I was really considering Mabel.
Quinn snaps, and I jerk my head up. “Hey,” she whispers, actually whispering. Now I at least know that she can. “You zoned out. Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yeah.” Can’t tell her why I was zoned out or what I was thinking about, so I insist, while nudging her forward, toward the doors, with my hand on her waist, “I’m fine, c’mon, I don’t like walking in late and having everyone turn around and look at ya’.”
That part happens to be true.
We make our way inside, and my leg rests against hers for the entire service.
Didn’t hear a word of the sermon.
Quinn comes in through the back door while I’m in the kitchen fixing a salad and some sandwiches. She ditched her little red boots in favor of her bare feet, and the sight of a woman comfortable in my house makes me realize I want to do this again.
A relationship. Love.
I do, I just can’t wrap my head around wantin’ someone when my life is in such disrepair.
I cut her sandwich in half, then cut it in half again before I realize I’m making sandwiches for grown-ups and not threewild little girls who, among the group of them, don’t have enough teeth to chew a steak.
“Plannin’ my birthday?” Sadie bounces over, digging her hand into my pocket as she eyes me making food.
I roll my eyes. “Your birthday was three months ago.”
“Well,” she bounces, ponytail swinging, “you never let me go to Petunia’s on Sunday!”
It’s true. Sunday we usually have lunch together here, and it’s a slow day on the ranch. Sadie sits with me on Daisy, and we take a long ride of the property, enjoying short stops to collect flowers, pet Tate’s goats, and snap photos. We cook dinner together after lying in the hammock under the oak tree, and in general, it’s our day to enjoy the ranch.
Only now I realize that there won’t be a ranch to enjoy if I don’t get this fake marriage going, and if I don’t push my body to the limit, train my hardest, and do my damnedest out there in that arena in two months, I’ll lose everything that matters and the only thing that matters.
“Well, me and Miss Quinn need to have a talk about the movie and… some other stuff,” I explain just as Sadie turns around, only just now realizing Quinn is already here.
